It's amazing the
associations your brain makes. For the longest time growing up, and
possibly well into my early twenties, I thought that Andes mints were a
Christmas candy, completely seasonal, like candy corn or Cadbury eggs.
There's an obvious
reason for this, each year on the 25th of December I would climb out
of bed and make my way to the family room of our small ranch style house
that I grew up in. Upon arrive to the living room which was only permitted
entrance once my mother and her husband had joined me at the arched door
way. At which time we would all entered together and start out ritualistic
disrobing of the small fortune of socially acceptable exchange of unneeded
things that shows the people in your life that they were in the forefront
of your mind during the tussle and bustle of the season.
Half way through the
throngs of boxes and metallic paper we would take a brake and empty out
our stockings. Small trinkets, lip balm, deodorant, and the miss-mash of
items that didn't quite have their own place under the tree. This
miss-mash also included, candy. And yearly, my mother would include a package
of Andes mints, which she would open and pour into my stocking. I am not 100%
sure why, other than the fact that they are super yummy, that I loved them so
much. There was no shortage of sweets in my house around the holidays. We were
Italian, cookies and cakes and wandis, and pies, and all sorts of sugary
delights graced the surfaces of our kitchen, living room, and cupboards, but
Andes mints were my favorite.
It wasn't until I was
nearly 25, and went to the Olive Garden for the first time (again, I grew up in
an Italian house) that I ever encountered the little chocolaty delights without
being in my pjs, sitting on the floor pouring them onto a little box I kept my
Christmas candy in. My mind was blown when the check came and there
sitting on top of it, wrapped in little silver paper stamped with the Olive
Garden logo on it, were my favorite holiday candies, in July!
My friends laughed as I
exclaimed with delight over getting to eat them in the middle of the summer,
like I was breaking some sort of rule. I was beside my self with joy. I
told them how they were my favorite candies and I looked forward to them each
year. They continued to laugh at me while they told me that they could easily
be obtained year round, and they were not in fact a holiday candy. A part
of me was sort of crushed, how did I go all these years and not know I could be
enjoying them year round? How did my mother lead me to believe such a farce
for so long?
I went out immediately
and bought a package for myself! But it wasn't the same, they didn't evoke the
same kind of joy that they did on Christmas morning, not the same kind of rush
they did at the table in the OG, making me feel like I was some sort of holiday
rebel. No, Andes were defiantly just a holiday candy for me, don't
get me wrong they were yummy, they just lacked that awesomeness that nibbling
on them while I played wii my new toy, or read my new book, or watched my new
movie.
To this day, at 28 years
old, I still refuse to eat Andes mints before Christmas unless in at Olive Garden.
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