Wednesday, February 04, 2015

craft of craving

I have a craving.

That is an interesting sentence.  Is it possible to ever just stop there? 

Is it ever possible to simply have an abstract craving?  Or does that sentence need to identify an actual craving for a very specific thing -- to make any sense?

I can't think of a single instance where I have left a dangling craving at the end of a sentence.  Cravings are for something.

This little rumination started ricocheting around my head as I left one of my favorite restaurants last night.  My fettuccine Alfredo was almost perfect, but I could not quite clean my plate.

So, I was walking toward my car with a small container of pasta left-overs when the craving hit.  I am not much for desserts.  But, when I have them, they have to be on a rather limited list.  No chocolate.  No cream cheese.  No coffee flavoring.  And not too sweet.  The survivors constitute a small group.

Topping the list is ice cream.  But not just any ice cream.  It has to be Baskin-Robbins cherries jubilee -- or nothing.  And that was what I was craving.

Our little town is filled with ice cream stores.  Almost none of them have anything approaching cherries jubilee.  The closest is a black cherry flavor -- with chunks of black cherry -- sold by Thrifty ice cream stores.

There are two Thrifty stores within cone-tossing distance from my house.  The problem is, as good as the Thrifty black cherry ice cream is, it is not Baskin-Robbins cherries jubilee.

The nice thing about cravings is that unless the specific item is at hand, substitutions will not suffice.  I was going to pat myself on the back for having the courage of my convictions to drive past the Thrifty store without even slowing down.  (Well, I slowed down to see if the store was open.  It was.  I will give myself a half point for not looking for a parking space when I saw the store was open.)

And I will take away that half-point because my real justification for not stopping was that I will be in Oregon this coming Sunday -- and I can stop by the Baskin-Robbins store at the Bend Fred Meyer whenever my brother gives me the keys to the Shiftless Escape.

Some itches just need to be scratched.  This one will be licked. 

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