If I was a twenty something, I would surely be spending copious amounts of time on Facebook seeing all the signs that everyone on earth was having a more hip, more fun filled, and more glamorous young adulthood than me.
Yesterday I got the taste of this Facebook Deflation Syndrome when I googled caramel apple recipes.
Yes, I know that sounds unlikely, but let me tell you what happened.
At present, everyone in the office is obsessed with caramel apples, especially Sophie, and we decided it was high time to make a few. My google search pulled up about a zillion recipes for melted Kraft caramel apples but frankly, that was just not what all of us in the office had in mind. Ours had to be from scratch.
When one site, picturing a dreamy looking caramel apple with a thick layer of caramel stuck to the apple, mentioned its recipe used only honey, heavy cream and sea salt, I believed I had the recipe to carry the day.
Then, while I was printing the recipe, I began to look at the site and read the woman’s blog and suddenly I was having a fifty year old’s version of Facebook Deflation Syndrome.
Most entries began with comments like, “Just back from two weeks in Japan and the restaurants in Tokyo were better than ever.” or, “Don’t you just love Paris in October?” or, “Had to make a last minute dinner for guests from ingredients in my practically empty refrigerator and could only find three kinds of goat cheese, some toasted pinenuts, an ordinary sort of tapenade and bunch of fresh cilantro.”
In exactly the same state of half dread and half fascination that I look at my kid’s Facebook accounts, I dove into this woman’s blog deeper and deeper. And then I had to pull the plug. After all, how much shredding could my ego take?
Because unlike this wonder woman, I have not been to all six continents in the last six months while simultaneously winning so many literary and culinary awards that my resume goes to two pages. And when my refrigerator is nearly empty, it has things in it like strange relish and empty orange juice cartons, not tapenade.
As I bid adieu to this site, I tried to beef myself up with a reassuring inner monolog. I began with the topic of travel and reminded myself it really is okay that the farthest I have been from the farm in six months is East Ryegate, Vermont where puppy Reina was born. I soothed myself with sweet words about how special it is that a far flung day for me is several trips to the compost pile.
Then, taking on the topic of awards, I racked my brain for a few mintues and recalled that I HAD won a prize once. It was a door prize for an ugly picture frame when I was in sixth grade. So useful for someone who is twelve.
Really, dear readers, have no fear reading this blog is going to cause you any Facebook Deflation Syndrome. It is not going to make you think you have not done enough peak bagging or made enough marvelous food. In fact, today, you have a real treat in store for yourselves when you get to see how MY special from scratch caramel apples turned out.
I tried wonder woman’s recipe for honey and cream caramel apples. I boiled my caramel to 255 degrees per her directions then watched in happy anticipation for well covered caramel apples to take shape before my eyes. And this is what happened.
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