sweetening the drive

I often wonder what goes through the minds of PR types when they come up with consumer hooks.

Now, I know what is primarily in their minds -- to find a catchy phrase that will ping the buyer's needs. Wilson Bryan Key told us all about subliminal suggestions in marketing.

That is not what makes me wonder. What I wonder about is who some of those slogans are supposed to target.

Like "home cooking." The intent is obvious -- to attract buyers with memories of distant meals around a beloved relative's table. Though, based on comments I have received from readers about home-cooked meals, the admen may be shooting at the wrong target.

Yesterday I drove to Manzanillo to have my new glasses repaired (a screw had simply disappeared) and to pick up some supplies from Home Depot and Sam's Club. While driving back to Barra de Navidad, I grabbed a container of grapes from Sam's.

Grapes are one of the few fruits I like. I always have. But I have been disappointed with the grapes on offer lately. You know the ones I am talking about. Each grape almost the size of an apple. And with the taste of -- well, next to nothing. All in the service of making harvesting simpler.

These grapes were different. They were the size and color of the California Thompson grapes that made my high school summer days in Oregon one of those memories that gets filed under "Good Times."

I grabbed three or four grapes and popped them in my mouth. These certainly were not Thompson grapes. They lacked the acidity that gave the grapes of my youth their complexity.

These were just sweet. Really sweet. Almost a burnt sweet.

Then I looked at the label -- something I should have done an hour earlier. I will give whoever named these grapes points for honesty. They really did taste like cotton candy. Right down to the hint of caramelization. And the sticky fingers.

Now, I know there are people who love cotton candy. My friend Joyce will tackle vendors on the beach to ensure they do not get away without selling two or three whirls that look like wigs from a community theater production of Hairspray.

But I am not one of those people. Despite the name connection, cotton candy has never been one of my vices. I will confess, though, that like several other family members, I wanted to name a daughter Candy Cotton. The fear that she would end up headlining with Stormy Daniels put paid to those dreams.

That did not stop me from eating half of the contents before I noticed something else on the label. "Please rinse well." I fully expected the line below was going to say something like: "Coated with strontium for your protection." It didn't. Apparently the only thing I had consumed unbidden was fungicide sulphites. Maybe they will mix well with the arsenic from my Penafiel habit.

Having tried these ultra-sweet grapes, I doubt that I will buy them again. I will just need to keep chasing that Thompson dragon.