Wednesday, April 16, 2008

My office bought two bags of individually-wax-wrapped Babybels, and all save three were eaten.

I thought the days of this famous little, round cheese were over, and then I came to London. Er, I happened to make friends with people who actually indulge in this strange, rubbery and completely unnecessary wonder--and whose stomachs actually forgive them for partaking!

I remember the days of opening my grandparents' fridge, hoping that, among the mini Hershey's bars with almonds, I'd find a few babybels--leftover golden nuggets from Grandad's airplane trips wrapped in red wax. If I found more than one, and I usually did, I'd grab them all, have a seat at Nonnie and Papa's kitchen table, lay them in front of me, and decide which dairy wheel I'd eat first. As I pealed away the wax tab, a delicious and potential heart attack displayed itself in the form of a little white roundel. Yum.

I'm not sure what happened next. After a few years the Babybels either stopped appearing or I simply realized how disgusting they were. In any case, after a night of drinking in London I had my first in years. A poor choice, indeed. One Babybel, coupled with a foot-long pepperoni stick is a deadly combination. You will inevitably suffer from bad breath and indigestion all night. The next morning I thought I had ordered a McDonald's quarter pounder. 

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