A Thought Occured to me Yesterday, While Eating a Hershey's Kiss...

... that the structure and feel of the chocolate Kiss product was probably inspired by the act of suckling a mother's teat.

Here's what happened. I'm walking home from work yesterday, and I find a misplaced Hershey's Kiss in my jacket pocket. Hungry, I unwrap the morsel and pop it in my mouth whole. Something about the crisp spring air has me noticing the mouthfeel of this common candy for the first time. The smoothness of the surface, the shapeliness of the curved line, all ending in a tiny, tittilating tip. "Sweet Jehovah," I think, "The Kiss is a woman's nipple."

It makes a lot of sense. Whether a source of nourishment or eroticism , it's hard to diminish the subconscious appeal of a female's breast in your mouth. Those of us who were breast-fed, baby girls and boys both, have the familiar lip-locking act forever stamped in our primitive directories as something appealing: necessary for survival, even. Once we developed the teeth and gastric juices to chew on solid foods, however, this didn't stop us from seeking out other, non-lactating varieties for a nibble now and then. (Please note the unstated chronological gap of 18 +/- years.)

Someone in central PA thought to take advantage of this yearning in a clever way: By molding a cocoa areola and wrapping it in foil. What the tiny ribbon-opener signifies, this blogger does not know. But he won't hesitate to pop a Kiss in his mouth while pondering, nor will he think about the shapely chocolates the same way again.

The Cod

Gentle folks,

What you are about to see may shock you. But don't worry. This is merely the digitized fossil of an ancient beast, long ago destroyed...

This is a Cod head.

This is that same Cod head, as seen from the side.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Where can I get one of those for my next pot luck! And I agree, the cod head is a tasty, tasty dish. Sure, its gelatinous cousin (see above) lacks for visual appeal, but only in such a frozen state can one pick and choose the most delectable tidbits for nibbling and such.

Okay that's not true. A fish need not be jellified and molten for one to enjoy it. Nor was this one savored as it appears. This is the aftermath, the happy accident of a forgotten creature left in its ceramic sea for too long. A good friend gave me the fish to serve at a gathering. He taught me the fish's facial geography, so that I could share these secrets (or pluck the fleshy cheek for my own selfish consumption). In a way, the pot o' cod was a hit. Nearly everyone who lifted and peeked under the lid reacted in a way that conferred one of two emotions: utter disgust, or immense satisfaction. I'm an optimist. They thought it too beautiful to ingest. This is why I took home the entire head, minorly pecked at, and why, after a night in the icebox, the above abomination formed as if rising out of the primoridal, Fridgidaire ooze.

Stare at the top-down view of the Cod head long enough and you can see yourself in it. There's a lesson in that, somewhere...

An aside -- The same chef friend who gave me this to serve to people also served me, at his own restaurant, fried Cod sperm. He said it was an experiment; he didn't tell me what it was until after I devoured them. They tasted sort of like freshly made tator tots, with a kick of salt water.

This is what I'm trying to say: Be careful who you befriend in Portland, Maine.