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Subject: [FOLKLORE FAMILY] Re: a heartwarmer: Color Me Confused
Date: Fri, 7 Jun 2002 16:05:57 EDT

COLOR ME CONFUSED

Little Cindi graced me with a gap-toothed grin as she squirted catsup
on her plump, juicy, hotdog.
Her sweet, squeaky, "Here Auntie have a bite," was drowned out by my
tomato-curdling scream.
"Ewwwww! What's that?" I stared in horror as a big, PURPLE glop
soaked into the bun.
"It's our new cool catsup. We have purple and green in the cupboard,"
Cindi smiled.
Color me confused, but the thought of purple catsup made my brow
wrinkle almost as much as Granny Clampett's face. Believe me, I am not a
catsup snob. In fact, I consider it one of the major food groups and think
nothing of dousing fries, potato chips, hamburgers and fish sandwiches in
rich, red, catsup.
The problem arises when the catsup is not bright red, but Grinch Green
or Passion Purple. I know color shouldn't affect the taste, but the
thought of purple catsup is enough to give me sweaty palms, dry mouth, and
heart palpitations (similar to seeing Brad Pitt on the movie screen).
So what's the deal with all these food companies trying to "new and
improve" their products? It's getting to the point that I'm afraid to put
anything into my grocery cart these days.
For instance, I recently stood in the garbage bag aisle and my brain
turned to compost as I stared at the brands, sizes, and colors of bags that
just get thrown out anyhow.
Whatever happened to black cinch sacks for garbage, and clear plastic
bags for recyclables? Scented bags, that's what! I actually saw "French
Vanilla" scented garbage bags on sale. For only three times the cost of
plain old "plastic scented" bags, I could buy a garbage bag that would
"soar my senses" with aromatherapy. Somehow the thought of my garbage
smelling better than me made me want to yank out my hair, but not my
checkbook.
So, besides sweet Cindi, who buys this supply of purple catsup and
vanilla garbage bags? Probably the same try-anything-once folks who throw
a vertically striped jar of peanut butter and jelly into their grocery
baskets. Frankly, I find that concept as un-American as a kid who won't
eat PB&Js at all. Everyone knows you have to slather creamy, gooey, peanut
butter on one slice of Wonder Bread and then spread sweet, sticky, grape
jelly on another piece before doing the old "slap and squish". You know,
slap the bread together and the squish to join the flavors. The thought of
calmly spreading PB&J at the same time should be grounds for court marshal!
With all of these bizarre foodstuffs, it scares me to think what the
world will be like when my kids (now in their terrible teens) go forth and
multiply (after college and marriage) and take their kids to the grocery
store.
Will the little tykes beg for pink mac-and-cheese? Will the
lime-green mustard clash with the purple hot dog nestled in its
navy-striped bun?
Color me old-fashioned, but no grandkid of mine is going to be served
purple oatmeal or green spaghettios. Even if I have to stockpile "normal"
foods, I will serve the little sweethearts food that is good, nutritious,
and THE RIGHT COLOR.
Now, all this talk about food is making me thirsty.
Excuse me while I pop the top of a Code Red Mountain Dew. I know this
soda "should" be green, but I broke down and tried a free sample the other
day and its sparkly cherry taste is just like a kiddie cocktail. See, I'm
not so set in my ways.
I may never dunk my fries in green catsup, but color me courageous,
there may be hope for me yet.

-- Darlene A. Buechel



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