Fluffernutter.

Food loomed over my young life, fraught with little wobbly bits and strange textures. I was very squeamish about what I put in my mouth, cooking being a scant and hurried affair, a trial to my mother. Fried or baked chicken, fish on friday, hamburgers or meatloaf, with Seasoned Salt and corn flakes breading, ketchup a necessity. But my mother loved to bake, anything involving brown sugar, flour, nuts and vanilla extract, loved her right back. Nothing pretty, but much sweetness and joy. Dessert was for every meal, not just breakfast. Ok, no, but, still.

Butter tarts and chow mein noodle drops, pies and nut bars, cakes from mixes - but real frosting, fudge and brownies assuaged my malnutrition and hunger. Fresh fruit being too expensive for every day.

Christmas heralded a massive bake-off, to sweeten the family gatherings and lull us into a high fructose stupor. I would be allowed to mix and chop, measure and wash the limited utensils, until the honored old tins were wax papered and filled, taken out to the unheated, closed in back porch, a larder for high calorie sweets.

My treat was a wad of dough scraps from the crusts, to roll out, slather with margarine, brown sugar, and chopped walnuts, fold, repeat until immanent collapse, then stuff the raw concoction into my mouth. Heavenly wad of nutty, sugary joy.

A new surgical procedure reminded me forcefully of eating Campbell's chicken and dumpling soup after school, watching Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. I would shove the plastic straw through the semi-soft dough, and suck up the core through the lumen, leaving neat holes through, until little but a lattice of dumpling remained. (The procedure? Actually, you may be happier if I don't mention.)

After school, while mom went to pick up my father at work, I would snitch chocolate chips, and spoonfulls of peanut butter, licking them up together.

Wonder bread had amazing adhesive powers. So did Marshmallow Fluff, especially mixed with peanut butter to a uniform consistency, applied to the white bread, and mashed down into a solid lump. Called a Fluffernutter. Gods, I loved that, long, long ago.

My sweet tooth today is restricted to occasional dark chocolate, and a few daily chocolate chips. But I remember how wonderful it all tasted, then.