I don’t recall too many things from when I was four, but I have yet to forget the time I was introduced to the substance that would prove to be one of my favorite foods.
We didn’t watch a lot of television growing up, so when it was allowed (usually on Saturday morning), it was a pretty special thing. A family favorite of ours was Winnie the Pooh. My three siblings and I would pack onto our couch and get lost in the Hundred Acre Wood with Christopher Robin and his eclectic group of friends.
On one particular occasion, I asked my mom what Pooh Bear was continually obsessing over. He would risk life and limb for this dark yellow matter, draining the supply of all of his friends (especially poor Rabbit), and even engorging himself to the point of immobility.
My mother proceeded to invite me to the kitchen table, retrieved a small bottle out of our kitchen cabinet, and placed a little bit of Pooh’s nectar of life on a spoon for my sampling. Much like our friend stuffed with fluff, I was hooked…
To this day, my parents (and now my wife) will get me bottles of
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