Sin lurking around every corner

The other day I was walking around downtown New Haven and decided to stop in Starbucks because, well, I'd just toured the Yale Center for British Art and I deserved it. Since I was in search of something to keep me warm and not necessarily a caffeine boost I decided to try something new and asked the friendly barista what the Caramel Apple Spice was like, was it like hot apple cider? And he replied that yeah, it was something like that.

I ordered one in the spirit of trying something new and because when you are jobless and you live in your husband's childhood room and it is about 2 degrees outside, you sometimes need a little boost.

It turns out that the Caramel Apple Spice was nothing like hot apple cider, at least not any hot apple cider I would have been allowed to taste in my youth, apple cider that aspires to some semblance of nutrition, apple cider that does not rot your teeth in one sitting.

And perhaps because I don't often allow myself sugary coffee drinks (more because they set my stomach afire than because I'm some kind of saint), my reaction was amplified.

This Starbucks version was more like apple juice with added sugar with whipped cream on top and caramel drizzled on top of that. And naturally, it was the best thing I'd ever tasted. And I can't stop thinking about it. And I'm never allowed to have it again.