The Syrup Chronicles

I accidentally turned my kitchen into a fiery, olfactory hell over the weekend.

There are only two smells that I really can't handle: burnt insulation and maple syrup. While I don't encounter burnt insulation a whole lot, I do bump into maple syrup quite a bit. For some godforsaken reason, syrup is a breakfast staple for some (including Laura) and as much as I'd like to, I can't only associate with fellow syrup haters. I tolerate it.

If I can't stand the smell, then it follows that I don't eat syrup regularly. I think I actually like the taste, but since I rarely eat it, I'm not entirely sure. All of this is pointing towards something, friend.

On Saturday, I woke up, did a little exercise, and decided to make some breakfast. I remembered back to the previous Sunday when Laura and I were putting groceries away; she specifically mentioned how happy I'd be with the bacon she picked out. "Let's light this bacon candle," I declared, "and then eat aforementioned bacon candle."

I opened up the bacon package and... it smelled a little weird. Its smell was 93% bacon, 7% syrup. I scoured the packaging and I did not see a single mention of syrup. Had I seen those words, I would've thrown the package away and buried the trash can in the back yard. I respect my loathing of syrup.

I proceed to cook up the bacon and the smell didn't go away. We all know how excellent bacon smells, and this had all of that, just with that slight maple twinge. I tested one of the pieces and, good lord, it was perfection. The thing could've been drenched in syrup for all I cared; I was in breakfast heaven.

I rocked the breakfast scene, cleaned up, and left for the rest of the day. When I got back to the house, and I do not lie here, it smelled like a maple syrup factory. It smelled like some mean-spirited pranksters had slipped into the joint and dipped everything in that sticky devil-sauce. You'd think I had broken into Miss Butterworth's house. I opened the windows and shook my fist at the heavens.

I know this syrup thing is a little weird, so I wasn't going to bring it up to Laura. For all I know, the first sign of schizophrenia is a constant smell of one's least favorite scent. Anyway, when Laura got home, the first thing she said was, "Wow, this stinks like syrup." Exactly!

I had already cleaned all of the plates, pots, and silverware from the breakfast explosion so I had no idea where this was coming from. I was ready to coat the kitchen in kerosene, light it up, and call the realtor, when Laura ventured the trash can might be the source. As soon as I took that out, things improved immediately. I can hardly smell the syrup in the kitchen now, meaning that I hardly want to stick my hand down the garbage disposal when I enter the kitchen.

I blame the bacon packaging, the poor ventilation in our kitchen, and the syrup industry, in decreasing order, for all of this.

Posted by Cody at October 29, 2007 7:03 PM