One of the Christmas desserts I baked required that I make a batch of something that I had not heard of in all my four years of grain-free baking: Date Paste. The recipe, which is just dates and water blended up, made far more than I needed for the dessert, so ever since Christmas Eve, every time I rummage through the refrigerator, I stumble across this little container with the appropriate identifying label.
And do I think of food?
I think of dating.
I think of all the ways that a lover tries to get his beloved to stay with him/her and how Date Paste could be marketed to the lovelorn, "As Seen on TV."
And I imagine the TV commercial, maybe with Lionel Richie crooning "Stuck on You" in the background, while the camera zooms in on a guy secretly covering his hand with Date Paste.
I suppress a giggle.
I'm totally warped. I know.
I need to throw that stuff out today.