Once upon a time, a very very long time ago, in a land far far away called "Putnamistan," I was recently engaged and feeling particularly homesick for bulk ginger snap granola from my local non-co-op co-op as I wandered the aisles of the local Stop & Shop. This was before I discovered that the Mrs. Green's that was such a pain in the ass to get too off Route 9A had a (larger) sister store by the Mega K-Mart in Carmel.
Anyway, there I was perusing the natural foods section, which is actually quite substantial for not being a Wegman's. Soy milk, check, Van's vegan wheat-free waffles, check, bizarre flavours of goat's milk yoghurt I wouldn't be caught dead eating, check. Expensive dog food, check. Whole grain bread at an unholy price from The Baker, who goes to my dad's church and sometimes gives him day-old muffins and rolls for free, check.
And then there was the cereal aisle. I beheld with wonder the 26 different flavours of Kashi, and the Barbara's Puffins with peanut butter flavour or the cinnamon flavour or the gorilla flavour, and the boxes and boxes of flax flakes. And there it was. Nestled all by itself, up on the top row next to the Peace Cereal brand Vanilla Almond Crisp, was a shining green box. Of Ginger Snap Granola. Six of them, in fact.
Astonishing. I climbed to the top shelf after a few unsuccessful jump-tries and got myself some of this organic goodness (with HEMP!, according to the box). In retrospect, I should have gotten all six. Because when I went back the next week for more, it was gone. Never. To. Be. Seen. Again. Anywhere. Not at Stop & Shop. Not at Mrs. Green's in Mahopac, Carmel, Briarcliff, or Mt. Kisco, because I checked them all. I even looked in the crummy neighbourhood A&P, which of course never has anything, and charges a fortune for the privilege.
I decided sadly I must have been imagining things, and that I'd had a week of imaginary bliss with that tangy ginger zip, probably related to the euphoria of the nearly-married. I'd have to have Mel send some up from Whole Earth if she ever got there.
This morning, on the advice of my sister (the reference librarian, which is a clinical term for "chronic web-surfer who gets paid for getting dressed and going to an office to do what I do all day in my bathrobe") I looked on their website.
And behold, fellow seekers!
I'm so glad I wasn't hallucinating. Because I hate when I do that.