Last week, we went into the town of Pictou and had lunch at one of our favourite restaurants, Sharon's Place. Afterward we went for a walk and I snapped some pics, some of which made to the blog last week. We saw a new candy store along Water Street and wandered in.
It is quite a place, with many varieties of fudge. I bought a pound's worth, and ate a little bit of it (I noticed the empty box this morning when I threw out Patricia's garbage. Hmm!!). I also noticed some small bags of hard candy, and one of them caught my eye.
It was a bag of... God help me! ... something called horehound, and I had to know more. The mental image conjured by that word in my noggin was one best left undescribed on this blog, as my sister reads it, and my former boss at Acadia University reads it, and my present boss reads it (and wants to know what this stuff is, too, I'll wager!). The proprietor replied, in a world-weary voice, because he has probably answered the question raised by many a person of a prurient nature over the years, that horehound tastes a lot like humbug.
(All I know about "humbug" is that it is the word that Ebenezer Scrooge says over and over in "A Christmas Carol", but Patricia at least knew what that was like. )
The next time I am in that store, perhaps as early as next week, I'll buy a bag of that horehound candy, and share it with my blog readers upon my return to the city, or at least the ones who read it at my work. The rest of you, we'll have to make special arrangements.
Horehound. Get used to it.
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