Chocolate Whore No More

I'm going pansy in my old age. Or maybe it's called "refined". Most people would say I'm maturing. At any rate, there's been a change a brewin' in me. I'm starting to like vanilla.


This frightens me more than a little. As a long time chocolate devotee, I'm starting to wonder if I'm going soft. Until recently, I would audibly groan when someone ordered Vanilla Bean in an ice cream store. How could someone possibly order the biggest flavor dud, the dull base for all things eventually made tasty with the help of chocolate and nuts? This is how I regarded vanilla. Chocolate is rich, and dazzling. Desserts were created with chocolate that had names like "Death By Chocolate" and "Chocolate Coma". Chocolate is a romantic scene setter and token of love. Surely you couldn't compete with chocolate.

My chocolate life began to unravel at Dairy Queen. In these tough economic times, I have started patronizing the store where an ice cream cone is still affordable. Not to mention the high school kids working there still look like high school kids. At the local gelato shop, I worry about the tempting counter girl giving my husband a free sample. Dairy Queen has vanilla and chocolate. In the beginning, I ordered my standard child size chocolate cup with mixed nuts. After a while though, I noticed a chemical twang that lingered on my tongue. I persevered however, thinking it was me. Surely it couldn't be chocolate's fault. After much consideration and dissatisfaction, I made the leap and ordered vanilla. I jumped off the chocolate bandwagon when I was alone with the kids. I knew what I was doing broke every rule I had made for myself and the rest of the world. Scot could not be around to witness this disdainful, hypocritical act. It hadn't been long ago that I had razzed my sister-in-law for choosing vanilla in her family's Neapolitan ice-cream carton. And here I was, ordering Plain Jane Vanilla. I took my first mouthful with complete skepticism. And was shocked. The vanilla tasted pure, and sweet. The ice cream had a surprising depth and richness. The nuts burst through the vanilla with their saltiness. It was almost as if the vanilla did not compete with the nuts in a flavor showdown. Huh, interesting, I thought. All that, and it was just Dairy Queen. I kept that day's dirty little secret, but decided to further my vanilla experiment. There seemed to be promise on the Vanilla Horizon.

In the month since my Dairy Queen conversion, I've had a vanilla latte, a vanilla cream soda, and a vanilla scone. The vanilla scone allowed the butter to be noticed, and the crumbly exterior to be seen. With chocolate, I wouldn't have seen a razor hidden inside. All of my vanilla test run tastes were delicious . Now,when I look back at my chocolate-laden past, I remember my fondness for plain cheesecake and clotted cream. I'm not sure it's a matter of giving something a chance, or appreciating the understated. I do know this; vanilla is a team player. It lets all flavors sing. Lastly, I look at the long list of people I know and love who adore vanilla. Not one is even somewhat dull or boring. My friend Jennifer is a hip Doc Martens- wearing writer. My daughter Nora is he wildest 4 year old I know. Sister-in-law Amy is charming and uniquely relaxed. They were just in on the magic of vanilla before I was. Keep an eye on me, though. It's one thing to welcome change and embrace something different in my life. If you spot me drinking Earl Grey and petting a cat, I might be in danger of becoming someone other than myself.