|Portion of a painting by George Hughes . . .|
Something that was very popular in the Sixties.
The house had been cleaned, top to bottom until everything sparkled like a new penny.
I should mention here that I’ve always wondered why, when company was coming over, my Mom felt it necessary to clean absolutely every surface in our home.
Was she really expecting her guests to go wandering into the storage rooms or laundry room?
Were they actually going to notice the fingerprints on the downstairs bedroom wall?
But, already, I digress . . .
Several card tables had been set up in the front room.
Each with four chairs.
A deck of cards.
Pad of paper.
And the all-important, easily snitched from, dish of treats.
Usually mixed nuts.
Or (cue exciting music . . .) bridge mix.
Have you ever eaten bridge mix?
The chocolate-coated voyage to tasty yummy-ness?
It’s an adventure in itself.
There are mint, orange, and Irish crème flavored pieces coated in dark chocolate; peanuts, raisins, caramels, and Turkish delight in milk chocolate.
The adventure comes in finding one that you like.
Because some of them can fool you . . .
My favourites? The orange, Irish crème, peanuts and caramels.
The others? Ick.
At first, the only way to tell was by size and shape, but that can be deceiving. The raisins, for example, can fool you into thinking they’re peanuts.
Taste was the next option.
But Mom and Dad protested, sometimes violently, when they discovered treats with little nibbles taken out of the sides.
Then returned to the dish.
I know. Parents are weird.
But there was no way I was ever going to chance my taste buds coming into contact with something as icky as Turkish delight.
Raisins and I also have a history. (Seehere)
Finally, I came up with a solution.
If you squeezed the candies gently, they cracked just enough for you to get a glimpse of their soft centre.
If the colour denoted icky-ness, you could, by squeezing in the opposite direction, return them to their original shape.
|Caution: May contain icky pieces|
We won’t go into the fact that we kids weren’t even supposed to be in the front room.
Let alone snitching from the candy dishes.
Moving on . . .
I don’t know if people still have bridge parties.
Judging by the cries of excitement or dismay that emanated from the room, they were an immense source of fun and dismay in equal parts.
Myself, I never learned to play the game.
But I do remember the treats.