Oct. 5, 2017

Remarkably, I’m about to finish up my first jar of wheat germ.

Pumpkin seeds? I go back to Whole Foods regularly to replenish my stock; THEY know who’s in charge.

In my youth, my sister Twig would get bored of carving pumpkins at Halloween. She would meticulously sift through the goo and tease out pumpkin seeds, which she would bake on trays in the oven while my younger sister and I were still arguing over whether we could carve our own pumpkins, or if Mum or Dad had to wield the knife. Then Twig would appear with hot, salty pumpkin seeds, which we ate because they were there. Pumpkin seeds, while never prominent, are in my realm of experience.

But wheat germ? No way. That’s Euell Gibbons time. That’s for seriously crunchy granola types in granny glasses and clogs. That’s for communes and hippies and odd stores with creaky wooden floors smelling of Patchouli.

So to discover that I have somehow consumed, one tablespoon at a time in my morning yogurt, an entire jar of wheat germ is… surprising.

Maybe I need to go pin an Indian print bedspread to my wall and dance around a bonfire in the moonlight. The bonfire part sounds like fun, actually!

I raise my nearly-empty jar of wheat germ to you in a toast. To your good health – and mine!




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