While life is filled with serious choices (too many to count), it’s the less critical ones that are often the most fun — and the most debatable. To wit:
Yankees or Mets? (For the love of legends like DiMaggio, Mantle, and Jeter, you’ve got to give it to the Bronx boys of summer.) Lakers or Clippers? (Again, I say, there’s only one correct answer here — hint: the one with all the championship banners hanging at Staples.)
Thick crust or thin? (As any true pizza lover can tell you, it’s got to be just thin enough to fold while you eat it. Any thinner is just wrong; any thicker is more wrong. And eating it with a knife and fork is just plain blasphemous.) Almond Joy or Mounds? (Neither. Trick question.) New York or Los Angeles? (San Francisco — Yankees and pizza notwithstanding.)
Ketchup or mustard on that hotdog? (Before you judge, you’ve got to try ketchup. I convinced B. to do that very thing years ago, and he’s never mustarded again. And my mother-in-law has never forgiven me.)
On line or in line? (It’s a having-been-raised-in-New-York thing, I think. I say “on line” — although a dear friend of mine from another part of the country once asked, “Really? Is there a line painted on the ground that you’re standing on?” No, there’s not, smartass. And where did she get that New York attitude from to begin with? Huh?)
Cone or cup for that scoop? (Clearly cone. Classic, pointed end, none of this fancy waffle-style nonsense.) And speaking of scoops, chocolate or vanilla? (Yes, I know that surveys say that vanilla is most people’s fave but come on. I mean, a) you can’t trust polls (have we learned nothing?) and, b) chocolate so rules.)
And, with Thanksgiving just a day away, the inevitable choice: on your sweet potatoes — marshmallows or none? I was a marshmallow girl all the way growing up. Truth be told, I never ate the sweet potato part. I’d just scrape off the marshmallow and eat that. (Of course, I was a very picky eater as a kid; so picky that when we ordered in Chinese food, my parents would convince me that the water chestnuts were potatoes to get me to eat.)
Anyway, it wasn’t until I met B. (who dislikes marshmallows intensely) that I finally tasted naked sweet potatoes. Turns out, I love them. And I’ve never looked back. (Adding too-much sweet to already-sweet is gilding the beyond-sweet lily.)
All of this, my friends, as my way of offering up a bit of lighter fare in these tough, tough days. I wish you all a safe, happy, and healthy Thanksgiving and hope that you enjoy as many marshmallows (or as few) as you desire.
Sometimes less is s’more.
© 2020 Claudia Grossman