Color Me Confused
By Darlene A. Buechel
Little Emily 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," Emily
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 different 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 myself made me yank out my hair --
not my checkbook.
So, besides sweet Emily,
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 PBJs 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 squish
to join the flavors. The thought of calmly spreading peanut butter
and jelly at the same time should be grounds for court-martial!
With all of these bizarre
foodstuffs, it scares me to think what the world will be like
when my kids (now teenagers) go forth and multiply (after college
and marriage) and take their tiny tykes to the grocery store.
Will the little darlings
beg for pink macaroni and cheese? Will their 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 chips in green catsup, but color me
courageous; there may be hope for me yet.
Darlene Buechel, a Wisconsin Cheesehead, hates cooking but enjoys
reading, writing and eating "the right color" foods.
She has been published in several children's magazines and is
working on a middle-grade chapter book.
