Nutrigrain Apple Cinnamon Harvest: $3.99/Box of 5/Kroger

nutrigrainharvest_applecinnamon-3A pastel sherbert sky sunrise greeted me this morning when I dug into my tiny bowl of yogurt with a tiny spoon because I like to feel like a giant ruling over my food. Is there any child who actually prefers the tart icified quality of sherbert to that of ice cream? I think of sherbet (unnaturally-hued neon green lime flavor) as the palette-cleanser tiny pretentious bowl served between several courses of a fancy dinner. The mouth equivalent of women in a department store running a cup of coffee beans under your nose so that you can keep smelling perfume samples until they succeed at upselling you on the so-called “value set” that includes a tote bag, body wash, and lotion. The only time that I actually enjoyed a small bowl of sherbet served with a tiny little spoon was when I was around 9 or 10 years old and my parents signed me up for an eating etiquette class with Mrs. Peggy Newfield, taught from her home in an elegantly-appointed dining room. Our “final” was a 7-course meal, and by this time, we were well versed in which of the zillion pieces of cutlery or silverware we were supposed to use for each food item. Even if you are obscenely wealthy and host dinner parties I find these pieces of flatware to be so antiquated and better used for, well, nothing. Half the time when I’m given sterling flatware to sell on Ebay (the most random ones like lemon forks and salt spoons), the auction winner is probably scraping them for the silver. But Mrs. Newfield served us sherbet with a wee spoon somewhere in the middle of this posh dinner and as a kid it was like a sweet intermission. Cold, sweet, fruity and unexpected after soup and before an entree. The later teenage graduates of her manners’ class went on to a week in France where I’m sure those table skills were even more crucial. Scoff.

And 20 years later I am lucky enough to remember one fork, one spoon, and one knife when I’m setting the table, and once a year on Thanksgiving, I still have to Google where to put the other spoon and fork that are in my grandmother’s musty mahogany box of silverware. And this Thanksgiving I vow to switch up my classic pumpkin pie and throw in an apple pie in the mix. It’s time for a change, and it starts with me and my still-evolving baking ability. And if I can bake an apple pie that tastes half as good as a Nutrigrain Harvest Apple Cinnamon bar, that would be a success, but this bar is making a mess! I need to remember (a la Mrs. Newfield) to put a napkin in my lap, as the bar’s pieces are flying this way and that. Crumbly and probably impossible to eat with silverware, this Nutrigrain bar is nonetheless delicious enough that I’d rather my mouth retain its taste than whitewash it away with a tiny bowl of sherbet. 4/5




Categories: Miscellaneous

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