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It began during another cleanout day in the garage. We expect to be moving within the year and are trying to purge everything we don't use. It's a nightmare.
The dictionary defines purge: "to get rid of whatever is impure or undesirable; to cleanse; to purify." Well, anything stored in our garage for decades cannot possibly be classified as pure. I am not in a purifying mood so much as a "get rid of" mood.
I was in the Basket Section of the garage. Yes, I know, it sounds like a department store, but it's an accurate description. I was sorting the baskets into Must Keep, Seldom Used, and Where The Heck Did This Come From? I found one Seldom Used that hadn't been emptied from its last Seldom foray. I obviously took it to some outing, came home, and dropped it as it was. It contained paper plates, napkins, two household forks (so that's why I didn't have 12!), an empty storage container, and in the bottom, two small cans of Pringles. Huh? I don't ever remember seeing Pringles in anything but their tall can - like a can of tennis balls. These were cute little snack size cans.
I can't remember the last decade I ate a Pringle. They're not on my go-to list. But there they were, dated 2005. Yikes! We moved to this house in 2005. If the can had an expiration date of '05, that means the Pringles were moved here in this basket. So they're over 21 years old. Hmmpf. For the life of me, I can't remember where I might have picnicked 24 or 25 years ago. I'm lucky if I can remember Tuesday's dinner. But ever curious, I just had to find out how they had aged.
I popped open one can and took out the first chip. It felt crisp, not limp. Here goes nothin' - I ate it. And it was ... good! I mean really good. I was expecting sorta rancid, but no. Amazing since the label states vegetable oils in their ingredients. By the way, Pringles are designated "crisps" - not chips - because they are only 42% potato. I read their web site. Didn't you need to learn that today?
I wound up eating the whole can while I continued purging. I made it all the way through the Basket Section and on to the Gift Wrap Section before I finished the can. I began to tire and knew I'd never make it to the Silk Flower Section. I was going to save the other can for my next purging day, but I relented and took it to Dear Richard, along with my discovery story. He hesitated but also liked them and even asked if I'd finished mine.
All this has added Pringles to the very short list of edibles with a shelf life of decades. Twinkies come to mind. My late husband, Tom, LOVED Twinkies. He liked anything Hostess made: Snoballs, HoHos, DingDongs, but especially Twinkies. I think it dated back to his afternoon paper route and the corner store located halfway between the end of school and dinnertime. I found two Twinkies under the front seat of his car months after he died.
Before last week was over, I discovered a few longer shelf-life candidates - both successes and failures. I found an opened jar of homemade raspberry jam in the v-e-r-r-r-y back of the refrigerator. Dated 2017, it was a gift from a friend who passed three years ago. With fond memories, I tasted its nine years carefully. Delectable. No crust, no granular texture, just pure deliciousness - bound for three English muffins in the near future. And then I opened a bottle of failure.
It was my beloved V-8 juice. I used to drink it for a snack and don't know why I stopped. It was hiding in a recess of the pantry cabinet, dated 2019. Honestly, I do clean out my cabinets. I try not to let these Methuselah-aged products slip through. Sometimes I get more caught up in cleaning the shelves or consolidating space than I do in reading the dates. I'm also better at it when my glasses aren't in the bathroom. I decided to open the V-8. OMG.
No longer a rich crimson red, the liquid was espresso brown - almost a hot fudge color. Amazingly, it didn't smell. But it poured like syrup as it chugged down the drain. I had shaken it, but the bottom still bore an inch of thick sludge. I guess I'll get my tomatoes, celery, and watercress in whole form for a while. Blech.
I'm considering buying some Pringles as a special treat. The little cans. Maybe I'll stash one in some dark corner for the next owner to find in 2049!
Marcy O'Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com