Of Wawa, Kakes and Cheeses of Bacon

I have the east coast in my blood and it's always good to go home, even if it means a total of over 10 hours of plane time with two small children and a wife who hates to fly. My wife, thankfully, is an east coaster as well. One of the pleasures of WonderWife's™ hometown are the many Wawa convenience stores sprinkled throughout.

I did not grow up with Wawas. My hometown had 7-11, as we do here in Southern California. While my love for the 'Sev is strong and unabated, I must confess that Wawa gives it a run for its money. It could be the made-to-order sandwich bar, where you can put together your masterpiece using a touch screen that has detailed options like "a little bit of mayo" or "extra oil". Perhaps it's the fresh baked Philly style pretzels sold at the register. But most definitely, it's the entire aisle dedicated to the greatest snack cakes in the history of junk food.

"Nobody bakes a cake as tasty as a..."

(If you can finish that line, than you know what I'm talking about.)

I was fortunate to grow up in a state that had access to the sugary goodness known as Tastykake. They are made in Philadelphia and are only sold in surrounding areas (though their reach keeps expanding). Tastykakes are one of the touches of home that I miss now that I live on the opposite coast. And at the Wawa, they have a whole bunch of them.

So imagine my surprise when I was perusing the Tastykake aisle of a Wawa, while the sandwich artisan behind the counter was preparing my Shorti, and I found this:

Not only is it a Tastykake, but it displayed two words that I love to see on any snack food, "limited edition."

Cheesecake Tastykake pie is exactly what you want it to be. It has a graham crust, thick enough not to get soggy and thin enough so that you don't get a mouth full of dry crust when you eat the pie. The filling has a rich, creamy texture and does a pretty good job of replicating an actual cheesecake. Good stuff indeed.

Speaking of good stuff, my mom-in-law (who in the past has provided me with experiments in bacony goodness) came through again this Thanksgiving by serving bacon cheese before the big meal.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that bacon cheese is cheese with bacon in it. While I think the cheese itself was cheddar, it tasted more like deeply smoked gouda. It was really good on it's own, but it was downright excellent when placed upon a garlic cracker. I almost didn't have room for turkey.

But of course, I had room for turkey. Cause it was Thanksgiving. And I was on the east coast. My true home.

Mother's Milk

My in-laws were in town recently. I don’t have the stereotypical relationship with my in-laws, commonly found in many sitcoms of the 90’s. I genuinely enjoy spending time with them. Plus, since we’re 3000 miles away from either set of parents, we will graciously accept any extra bodies willing to entertain the kids.

It seemed really important to them that WonderWife™ and I have a night out. This was a really good idea on paper, but this plan didn’t take into account Sprout’s erratic sleeping patterns and her continued refusal to be fed by anything unless it’s dispensed by my wife’s boobs combined with our sheer exhaustion. As the day dragged on, WW™ was running on fumes and it was looking less and less likely that we would be having a date.

I'd like to think that it was the pathetic “small puppy begging” look that I wore that caused WW™ to unexpectedly announce after dinner, “I’m going to the store to get milk.” It was true that our milk supply had been tapped and since cow juice is our house’s life’s blood, I had no doubt she was going.

I jumped on this opportunity. “Want company?”

So that night, WonderWife™ and I embarked our first time alone outside of the house together since Sprout was born—our first date in over five months. It was short, but it was a lot of fun. And we’d both desperately needed to have some fun together. Even if it was just 15 minutes in a grocery store, buying milk.