I have a well-documented thing for honey. A crush on honey, no, a deep-seated need for honey – so drippy and persistent that it rivals the fat yellow bear in the red shirt. My pairing of choice is with butter; any toast or crackers below are just a platform, and if propriety would let me do away with the base and just eat butter and honey, I would. And let’s be honest, I have. Maybe…once or twice. I do.
We have plenty of local beekeepers that provide everything from lavender to wildflower, but whatever the variety, I still must have the bear.
Precious, no? He is a regular on my counter, golden and waiting.
More toast, Marilyn? No thanks. Just had some.
Well. Just butter, then. No – no, I couldn’t.
Yes you could. Ha ha, I never do that.
Oh, but you do.
What a kidder! Innocently plastic and well-meaning. Still – sometimes I wonder about my will to honey, once in a while, when it turns just a tad too quickly from request to demand. Much the way some words, words you’ve used all your life – words like welcome or cheese – suddenly look wrong. Chicken. Doorknob. If you fix long and hard enough, they swim out and back to focus, making you doubt they were ever right at all. Doubt me? Stare at the word doubt.
And there we are. One day, the things you take for granted, your dear basics like language and crackers and honey, might all at once look different. Are the things we love as sweet as they seem?
Oh, dear. Honey – or is it Hunny?
I am one of the honey club. My favorite here in inland Southern California is fireweed. It is from the blossoms of a plant that only sprouts and blooms after it has been helped along by a fire in the area. The heat helps the seed to shed its hard coat and sprout. My next fave is tangelo….has a citrus taste. Yes, the bear is a must, but your pic makes me realize that it truly is a sinister looking artifact.
For me it is honey and goat cheese, sweet and tangy on a salty cracker-creamy and crunchy and salty and sweet and tangy.
Peanut butter and honey sandwiches, on toasted bread so the peanut butter gets kind of melty, with bacon.
There’s a touch of Chuckie about that bear
Ah the Bear. With a pointy top.
Oops, published the post before I finished. I was in Guam for a few years and discovered I couldn’t get the Bear with the pointy top. I had a girlfriend buy me one, couldn’t go so far as to have her send it to me, that would be over the top. I was relieved when I knew she had it in her kitchen, waiting for me. The Bear. With the Pointy Top. Only.
Who knew a honey bear could be so philosophical? Makes me long for a biscuit…
I have a bad greek yogurt & honey habit. I started buying the “economy sized tub” of yogurt and well…found out the hard way that I really could plow through it on my own…in one sitting. Damn bear.
Honey, do give that bear a time-out. He’s gettin’ awfully cheeky.
just used Mr Hunny for some homemade granola the other night…he’s such a kidder!
You know what is really nice about blogs? You find out you’re not alone with your guilty little secrets – like buttering crackers and slathering on the honey! (Or loving the hard lumps of brown sugar – I went back to the documentation.
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Every morning, without fail, I have a cup of Bigelow Plantation Mint Tea with a generous spoonful of orange blossom honey – my personal favorite. However, I don’t have the bear. I now feel I have missed out. Hmmmmm……
I’m off to bake my very first batch of scones.
While I also enjoy honey, Marilyn, I am not in love with it (I am a maple syrup girl myself, but this is your blog). But! I do so love the bear bottle. And I have thrown this question about many a time in other people’s homes, “Why, for the love of all that is good on this green earth, would you buy the bottle-shaped bottle when you could have THE BEAR?! I believe it is an early sign of dementia to dispense your honey in anything other than a bear.
There are two kinds of people in the world – those who choose the bear, and those who don’t.
I stopped buying the bear, cause he just did not hold enough honey. And sometimes he squishes in the middle and never puffs back out, then he doesn’t sit on the counter well, and falls over. He becomes a bad bear.
Jenni has a point…when the bear gets irritable, it’s not pleasant.
don’t you feel a cough coming on? I just read an article that a teaspoon of honey at bedtime will help a cough just as well as a teaspoon of cough syrup!
I also share your love of honey. And, geek that I am, I know honey trivia. Honey is a natural anti-bacterial–ancient Egyptians used it as a salve on wounds. I haven’t tried that myself. No, really, I haven’t. And honey does not spoil. If it goes all crystallized in the bear, you can just dunk him in some hot water until the honey melts back into its usual sweet form.
If you haven’t already, you should watch the Spiderwick Chronicles. Not that I think you have the same reaction to no honey. That would be rude.
My hidden honey secret? Ever so often, I sneak over to the pantry, walk inside, grab my glowing honey bear and give him a big ‘ol squeeze, right…down…my…gullet. Completely satisfying when I’m craving something sweet.
Other than sharing my personal honey habits, I am so with you on the, “Some words, words you’ve used all your life – words like welcome or cheese – suddenly look wrong.” That happens to me often, but I’ll take that one step further. Try saying a word, a common word, one you’ve used throughout your life a few times consecutively. It begins to sound wrong after a while too, to the point of not making sense. Take the word bench for instance, “Bench, bench, bench, bench, bench…” See what I mean? Who ever came up with the word bench?
And why am I sharing my random thoughts on your blog?
Like, do you have your own personal liposuction machine? And have you ever drenched a sesame seed bagel in bee poop (that is what some politician’s wife called honey when I lived in Wisconsin)? This is the operational definition of heaven.
Oh, Alice. Your message initially got stuck in the spam filter, I suspect, because you uttered liposuction and bee poop. How I love having you around on Simmer.