There’s something sobering about seeing my favorite TV clips labeled as “vintage.” But thankfully, today we are not here to ridicule Arnold Schwarzenegger. Instead, the “pump” for today is Peet’s Coffee’s pumpkin sugar cookie.
Conceptual Soundness. It’s a sugar cookie. It’s just a simple cookie with a few basic ingredients (sugar, flour, butter, a little fake vanilla extract) coated with coarse, colored sugar. It’s a classic! And it’s easily decorated to match any season or occasion. Kudos to Peet’s for sticking with the classics. 4 points.
Appearance of the treat: Well, I guess it’s sort of a pumpkin shape. But I normally expect the classic pumpkin shape to be a bit more “squashed,” with a slight flat spot on the bottom and a slight downward curve on either side of the stem, like this:
Ain’t she a beauty?
But more problematically, it appears that whoever was in charge of decorating the cookie accidentally spilled half the shaker of sugar in the middle. Indeed, half the sugar just fell off when I picked it up to eat it. I do give them credit for the orange color; it’s just applied too unevenly. Also would it have killed them to put a little green on the stem? 2 points.
Taste: Meh. The cookie base wasn’t as crisp as I’d like; it might have been a little stale. In fact, some bites seemed almost gummy. The flavor is pretty bland, as well. This is an underwhelming cookie. Not bad exactly, but it doesn’t live up to sugar cookie potential. 2 points.
Value. $2.95 for a sugar cookie at a coffee place isn’t bad. When you factor in that I also used their wifi to make this post, it’s a good deal. 3 points.
I was browsing the display case at Starbucks, looking for my first seasonal treat to review. And staring back at me, with a look of something between surprise and horror, was the head of a raccoon impaled on a stick. This seemed promising.
Something wicked this way comes
For some reason, these raccoon cake pops are HUGE! And by “huge,” I of course mean they’re tiny. But they’re huge in the sense that they’re popular. You’ll find discussions all over the internet commenting on this “new addition to Starbucks’ fall menu.” The website Trendhunter gushes that the raccoon pops are “surprisingly realistic in design” and they “even [have] pointy little ears and dark rings around the eyes.” There’s even a whole subgenre of internet memes involving raccoons eating raccoon cake pops. Observe:
Of course, none of this explains why a raccoon design should be featured in a fall lineup. But it is. And who am I to argue with Brian Niccol?
So let’s get this party started. As usual, we’ll be reviewing each treat using a four-factor grading system, with each factor earning up to four points.
Conceptual Soundness: So, this is a facsimile of a raccoon’s head impaled on a pike. Admittedly, I’ve never understood the whole cake pop concept. Instead of having a slice of cake, you’re going to get basically one bite of cake. And for reasons that are never explained, it’ll be stuck onto a stick. I mean, a lollipop or an ice cream bar or a shish kebob makes sense on a stick, since it takes a while to consume and it’s messy to hold. But a single bite of cake??? This thing is getting no conceptual soundness points from me! Zero points.
Appearance of the treat. Well, it is cute. The shape is reasonably well-defined, with little ears and everything. The eyes and nose and markings are created with icing. There’s no mouth, but that kind of lends to its cuteness. The base color is an odd blue-grey, which may or may not be the color of a raccoon in the wild. Overall, it’s playful, fun, and well-executed. I’m willing to give it the full 4 points for appearance.
Taste. Starbucks describes the pop as “vanilla cake mixed with buttercream, dipped in icing and finished with a raccoon-face design.” I have to admit, it’s delicious. The cake is moist, rich, and flavorful. The gooey frosting (buttercream?) that’s inside is what really brings the whole things together, lending a smooth texture and a more sophisticated taste…or at least, as sophisticated as is possible when you’re eating a miniature raccoon head stuck on a saliva-soaked stick. 4 points.
Buttercream brain, exposed.
Value. One of these will set you back $3.95(!!!) That’s a lot for one procyonid-shaped bite of cake. By my calculations, the equivalent of one full cake would cost you $118.50. This is not a value, people. Zero points.
October is my favorite month, for a number of reasons–the change in weather, the availability of darker and heavier beers on tap, and of course the approach of Halloween. Somehow all three of those come into play at the annual Poe Fest in Baltimore. The two-day festival is always held on the weekend closest to October 7, which of course is the date Poe died in Baltimore, under mysterious circumstances, in 1849. This year therefore marks the 175th anniversary of Poe’s death. Astute readers will recall I visited Poe Fest in 2019, and I’m returning this year for a very special reason. Let me explain:
Remember the story (“A Dying Wish”) I presented in serial form as part of last year’s October blog posts? I’m pleased to report that it’s been nominated as a finalist in Poe Fest’s literary contest called The Saturday ‘Visiter’ Awards. So I will be attending the Festival, where the winner of the contest will be revealed at the Black Cat Ball on the night of October 5. I will of course report on the outcome, along with photos, the next day.
Meanwhile, as has become our tradition here at Chasing Phantoms, we’ll be making daily Halloween-themed posts throughout the month of October. This year we’re bringing back a fan favorite: Daily reviews of seasonal treats.
Just part of the day’s work here at Chasing Phantoms.
Now, I’m aware there’s been some controversy over how we’ve defined “seasonal treats” in the past. This year we’ll be expanding the concept to its breaking point, like a Nerd Rope that’s stretched until it snaps and scatters little Nerd candies all over the carpet.
So let me be perfectly clear: We are defining “seasonal treats” as any nutritionally-suspect foodstuffs traditionally associated with the month of October. Specifically, we will be reviewing treats in four categories, with (roughly) a week devoted to each category.
Week 1: Seasonal offerings from chain coffee shops (Starbucks, etc)
Week 2: Halloween candy
Week 3: Seasonal offerings from ice cream and donut chains (BR, Winchell’s)
Week 4: Seasonal alcoholic beverages
Yes, we here at Chasing Phantoms are willing to conduct this research for the benefit and edification of our loyal readership. Think of us as a Halloween-themed version of Consumer Reports, just without the standards or credibility.
The fun kicks off tomorrow. Be sure to share the news with your friends!
I hope you all enjoyed this month’s Halloween offering, “A Dying Wish.” Of course, the way the timing worked out, the story ended on October 30 (All Hallow’s Eve Eve). So for today, which is Halloween proper, I offer this “true” ghost story for Halloween.
[Editor’s Note: Long-time readers may recall that I related this incident some years back, while I was on my US Route 60 trip. But that story appeared in the days when I was composing my so-called “blog” in Google Docs and emailing it to a small number of friends, so you might not have seen it. We pick up the story on Day 7 of my trip, as I’d entered West Virginia.]
It struck me today that this drive across the country on US 60 is similar in many ways to my trip across the country last fall on US 50. Sure, US 50 is a northern route, and US 60 is a southern route, so they each have a distinct flavor. But there are many similarities between the roads. Both are mainly two-lane highways, and both cut through the middle of countless towns. The two roads even end up in the same state, not too far apart. And this morning I was feeling that this leg, through West Virginia, feels as remote and lonely as US 50 passing through Nevada. They call that stretch of US 50 “The loneliest road in America,” and for good reason. In a similar way, today’s stretch of US 60 had me driving for long stretches without seeing a town or even another car. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s pretty therapeutic to be driving all alone along a windy road closed in on both sides with foliage. It’s calming and gives you time and room to meditate.
The narrow ribbon of asphalt that is US 60, cutting through the briars and brambles of The Mountain State.
As the afternoon wore on, the sky began to cloud over and the mountains began to take on a more melancholy feel. I was passing through the unincorporated village of Sam Black Church (named after a church building, which itself was named after an itinerant 19th-century minister). Here’s the church:
A white church named Black.
As I was passing through the deserted village and sensing the melancholy air, I came across this sign:
Roadside ghost story.
This was awesome! A “real” ghost story! (The full tale is explained here, in Wikipedia.)
Maybe it was just how my mood was affected by the weather and the long, solitary drive, but I felt compelled to find the grave of this Zona Heaster Shue. Surely she would be buried close by. After a quick consultation of Find-a-Grave on my iPhone, I found that she was buried in a churchyard just a few miles away. I set out for Soule Chapel Methodist Cemetery. The route was a narrow, twisting road over some hills, without a living soul anywhere in sight. Not so much as a grazing horse was out in the fields.
A good road for ghostspotting.
Finally, I arrived at the cemetery, which turned out to be a 150-year-old churchyard next to a white clapboard chapel. It was the perfect setting for a ghost sighting.
“So sure of death the marbles rhyme, yet can’t help marking all the time/How no one dead will seem to come. What is it men are shrinking from?” -Robert Frost
I walked among the graves and quickly found Zona’s headstone:
I have to admit that, while it was gratifying to have found the “ghost’s” grave, I was disappointed that the headstone looked so much fancier, perhaps newer, than the others in the cemetery. And it’s a little garish to identify her as the Greenbrier Ghost on her headstone. (The ghostly phantom you see in the headstone is my reflection, which just goes to show how shiny the headstone is.)
I should point out that this is Zona’s second headstone. She was first buried shortly after her death, but after her ghost supposedly appeared to her grieving mother, the authorities were compelled to exhume her body. Her corpse showed evidence (earlier overlooked) that she’d been murdered, and her husband was implicated and soon sent to prison. When she was re-buried, someone saw fit to identify her as the “Greenbrier Ghost” on her headstone. I assume that she’s OK with that, because even in death she doesn’t seem to be shy about communicating her complaints to others.
OK–It’s me again, on Halloween 2023. I hope you enjoyed all this month’s spooky offerings. Feel free to suggest your ideas for next October! Meanwhile, watch this space for another road trip soon.
It was many months before the whispered asseverations about my reception finally attenuated. Many of the guests never spoke a word about it afterwards, but a few undertook the manner of Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner, seeking out listeners for his “ghastly tale.” Their words, for the most part, were dismissed as the products of overly imaginative minds, jealousy, and alcohol.
Harder to dismiss was the disappearance of Dr. Triste. The police spent weeks scouring the city and surrounding countryside for clues, but their efforts were in vain. He simply vanished, having been last seen at my ill-fated gathering. Some claimed there must be a connection between the disappearance of Dr. Triste and the alleged resurrection of Prof. Glauben, but these theories were largely considered too fantastic to be believed. Ultimately, my genuine innocence (at least as regards Dr. Triste) was accepted by the authorities. Given that neither Dr. Triste’s nor Prof. Glauben’s corpus was ever habeas, the case was dropped.
Over time I tried to forget those incredible events that followed from disinterring Prof. Glauben’s skeleton. My valet Jacob was immensely relieved that I ended my strange and secretive ways. And I began courting the young Diera Marshall, who, like her father, spoke not a word about the shocking events at my home that evening.
I cannot recall the precise evening, but approximately a year after the disappearance of Dr. Triste I awoke from a fitful sleep with a strong urge to take a walk in the night air. It was as though I was being beckoned. I had no choice.
I dressed hurriedly, throwing on heavy clothes to protect myself from the chill. I glanced at my watch; it was 1:15 am.
By the time I had left the warmth of my home I realized where I was headed. Of course! Why hadn’t I thought of it earlier?
The cold winter wind gnawed at my face, but I walked steadily towards my destination, crushing dead leaves beneath my feet. Fog was all that lay before my lantern’s light, but I knew the way by instinct, even though I had only been there once before. After a full two hours I saw the imposing stone edifice before me. I made my way to the small hill behind the prison, and pushed my way through the creaky wrought-iron gates I’d entered two years earlier. It took only a few minutes searching to find the headstone which bore Prof. Glauben’s name.
For some time I stood in the dark silence, staring at the grave and mulling over those past outré events. They were already becoming a fuzzy memory, though it still pained me greatly to recall the expression on my mentor’s bony face when he left our reception. Yes, he had to be here; again, it all fell into place. I struck the moist earth with my spade.
An hour later I had for the second time opened the grave of my friend and teacher. For the second time I removed the coffin lid. And for the second time my heart sank. There, amid the rotting remains of a black tuxedo, lay the skeleton of Dr. Glauben, silently weeping.
“Nein, Venwick, let me stay here, beneath ze earth, where I belong,” he pleaded.
“I shall do as you request,” I replied with trembling lips, “but please allow me to say goodbye.” The skeleton looked up from his coffin. “Professor,” I continued, “Did you talk with Dr. Triste after you left the reception?” Prof. Glauben said nothing. “I believe you followed Dr. Triste from the party because you knew something about him–or rather you deduced it–and when you confronted him outside he admitted that he, too, had achieved immortality.”
The skeleton winced, and I went on. “Yes, Professor, you two were –you are–in the same predicament, and after hearing your statements of that night I conclude that you both decided to act as dead men, even if you can’t die.”
Prof. Glauben remained silent for a moment, then opened his jaw with a bony click. “Ja. Ve have forfeited ze hereafter,” he said softly, “and now ve must suffer. But ve shall not continue to live our lives among humans. Ve decided zhat ve must behave as ze dead.” A tear emerged from an eye socket and rolled down the side of the skull. “Und now, Venwick, you must leave. Please to close ze door after you.”
With a heavy heart I replaced the coffin lid and shoveled earth back into the hole. Then after crossing myself I turned to walk home. Breaking over the red horizon ahead of me was the morning sun, harbinger of a new day, bringing with it the blessing of life and the promise of death….
Or vice versa.
THUS CONCLUDES OUR TALE. WATCH FOR A SPECIAL HALLOWEEN BONUS TOMORROW!
Chasing Phantoms 