this week marked the year anniversary of my move to the US. as a teen, i visited new york monthly, visiting new friends who have become old friends. i spent so long wanting to live here, that when i finally got here i felt ungrateful to miss anything about what i left behind. i felt like missing any part of my “old life” was a betrayal to the version of myself who spent hundreds of hours (and dollars) on greyhound buses.
besides, because COVID-19 took control of our lives just 3 months after i moved, it felt fruitless to worry about what i missed — there was no real way to act on it. yet, i couldn’t stop my subconscious from sneaking up on me with the craving for small details of canadian life that i never expected to miss. specifically small edible things.
have you ever had maple syrup taffy? it’s made by pouring maple syrup on freshly fallen snow, then rolling a popsicle stick in that gooey strip. i’m sure you can get this somewhere in america — say, vermont, or any state that feels enough like its northern neighbour.
maple syrup taffy was a highlight on my school trips to quebec, just me and 50 other kids going through various stages of puberty, licking what amounted to cold sugar off of a tongue depressor. the simplicity of this snack is so charming to me, it’s like the culinary equivalent of being excited about a yo-yo or riding an inflatable tube down a snowy hill (another field trip mainstay).
the hill i will die on is that America does NOT!!! have enough satisfying chocolate nut candy bars. it has taken me too long to realize how superior the canadian chocolate bar selection is to the american chocolate bar selection. i think about oh henry! every day (you say ‘dear john,’ letter, i say ‘oh henry!’ letter etc).
i can’t imagine that when the tim hortons execs decided to call their new lil slushie drink an “iced cappuccino” in 1999 they realized espresso-based drinks would become as ubiquitous as they are now. thankfully we still have this iconic drink, its name a coy lil lie, or if you’re being generous, a humble reconceptualization of the luxurious cappuccino.
i hate all slushie type drinks and yet i’m constantly yearning for iced capps which i have to admit is basically a slushie. if you need any proof, just leave one sitting for 15 minutes and the lil crushed ice and syrup will inevitably separate. i cannot explain the mystical allure of the drink. i mean, we all know the inadvisable amount of sugar it contains is why, but where’s the fun in admitting that?!
the most charming thing to me when i moved to quebec was that they sell cheese curds for poutine by the cash register. “why not? throw ‘em in the cart!” i love a place where a significant portion of the population considers lumps of curdled milk an impulse purchase.