A few weeks ago, a church member passed through my office. As she set her tote down, readying herself to dig in to some volunteer work, she grabbed a container of pecan pralines and placed them on my desk. I think I heard her mutter something about them being really good, or addictive, or something like that. Not sure, as it is all a blur now. But I do remember looking into the container, fishing out a fat-looking nut, and popping it into my mouth.
Butter+sugar+nuts+salt=instant addiction for me.
“Did you… did you make these?” I asked. She smiled and said they were from Trader Joe’s. Mental note to myself — never ever shop there again. Trader Joe’s was now a dealer to me. I had to avoid it at all costs.
She wandered off somewhere in the building, leaving the container with me. It was a staredown. Only shame kept me from flying under my desk, container in hand, devouring each and every salty, buttery, sugary, nutty little glob. I picked out four more nuts, closed the container and swiftly took it over to her tote. Set it down. Patted it. Walked back, sat down and enjoyed my pecans.
It took me 2, maybe 3 weeks before I made my visit to Trader Joe’s. Really I was looking for their pie crust dough. Really!!! But while I was there… I mean, a little container of pecan pralines wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, the kids would help eat them.
I popped a few on the way home, “accidentally” left them in the car after unloading the groceries, a few more on the way to Walgreens, a couple on the way to pick up the kids from the library… a vow not to at another one until home. The ability to keep that vow until I was in the house for 3 minutes, popped a few more, peddled them to the kids (who pretty much all said “eww”) and the fear that I will devour the entire contents very soon.
By the way, they are just delicious with a glass of red wine.