Swedish Fish
I told this story to Adrian and he said it was a blog story. He also said he has never had Swedish fish.What makes for a pleasant lunch? If anything, it should be the combination of good company, what you expect to be one of the last warm days of September (turns out is was not), and possibly the most delicious meatloaf one can get in a mid-size half-ghetto half-fake-posh town like this that prides itself on the invention of hamburgers and pizza. Things can only get better when, along with the bill, the waitress leaves – no, not her phone number – but a pile of Swedish fish. And what if I said that they were the tastiest Swedish fish I have ever had – no competition at all. Sort of the home-made equivalent of Swedish fish.
Of course, the girl working in the candy store did not know this part of the story. All that she saw was three people extremely particular about their Swedish fish. We stared at them, then we thoughtfully discussed their color and size; we asked to taste them. We made a big deal out of it. The Swedish fish were just not the same as the ones we had eaten not even half an hour ago, and in the process of realizing and accepting this, our attitude changed from excitement to suspicion to disappointment. Then it changed to delight, as on that early September afternoon, what we thought would be the last almost summer-like day of the year, we walked out of the candy shop with some other sort of candy. The best tasting Swedish fish in the history of mankind were soon forgotten.
posted by Dora @ 11:10 AM
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