When we lived in England, I loved popping into the local health store. It was (and likely still is) called Oregano,  pronounced with the emphasis on the -gan- syllable. And the -gan- sounded a little more like ‘gone’ over there. Just so you know. Anyway, the main reason I went in (apart from the smell of spices in the air) was to buy pitted dates from a bulk bin. Maybe it was because I bought these extremely sweet and chewy treats at a health store that I felt quite virtuous about eating so many of them.

At home I liked to put them on an open dish on the dining room side board, conveniently on my way to and from the kitchen, downstairs loo, back doorway leading out to the garden and garage, laundry line, etc… in a nutshell, right where I’d pass them at least a dozen times a day. Living on the coast, it was of course nice and humid, and they remained sticky and chewy in the open air for the little time they survived that environment. I was the only one who ate them, so I had only myself to blame for the frequency with which the vanished away, necessitating very regular stops at Oregano.

Let me tell you how happy I am to be back to eating these rich treats.

Very, very happy.

For example, I have a sore throat, which I am treating with Oil of Oregano (dropped under my tongue). I recover my feeling that life is actually good (after each nasty dose) with a few dates. All I can say is that it’s like taking mouthful of fruity, slightly textured brown sugar which holds together well enough to require sufficient chewing to produce a sensation of bliss. Pure bliss.

#dates #treats

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