Delicious Memory

I went to the grocery store today for a few quick items.  As I strolled through to the bread isle, there they were.  Delicious looking crisp French Crullers.  I decided one of them would have to end up in my shopping basket.   As I got to the car I put it in drive and pulled out the donut.  Chomp, chomp...into my mouth it went.  It was good.  Sweet, dough-ie, and pastry-like.  However, it wasn't out of this world.  Then a thought hit me.

Was it really the fact that the donut was good or was it the fact that the memory attached to the donut was a good one that makes me continually choose this donut option? 

When I was a little girl my sweet dad would bring home French Crullers for me all the time.  Sometimes plain and sometimes vanilla frosted.  I ate and savored as any kid would and that was that.  Now that I moved back to NJ and live in the area where my dad spent most of his time with me I get the same craving for those sticky donuts everytime I pass by one of them.  They're okay.  Definitely not spectacular, but they are delicious.  Not so much in their taste, I realize, but in their memory.  Each bite reminds me of my Pop, and for as long as those bites last, the memory is the ingredient that makes those crullers exquisite.

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