I don’t remember a whole lot of my childhood. It swirls away like smoke as I reach back into my memory.
Most of what I remember are people. My grandfather’s face with the divot dug deep into his skull just above his right temple, the result of a glancing blow from a bullet in WWII. My grandmother’s hands… little details. The kinds of thing a child is endlessly fascinated by.
I was a little over 7 when I last saw my grandparents. And time spent with them seems like a collage. Composed of bright threads, stolen moments. Amongst these bright scraps are precious few whole memories. Ones that include talking and motion.
But what I remember so very very clearly, was the honey my grandfather use to dole out as a treat. He would only allow me but a single teaspoon, placing it into my eager, open mouth as if I was a nestling. He ever only allowed me one at a time, claiming that more would cause me to get sick, something that I never dared to doubt.
I remember that honey so vividly; cloudy, creamy-white with just the hint of sugary grain. It came straight from a local beekeeper, unfiltered, packed without heat or fuss tasting of local flowers.
I spent years looking for its equal.
Futilely.
And then, one balmy day, I took some friends to my local farmer’s market. Not my usual one but another one near by. By chance we had cause to tarry by the honey stall. Being already giddy we sampled a few of the honeys.
And in a single taste, the memories of my grandfather came flooding back.
Honey Pacifica makes my grandfather’s honey. And they make it better.
Unfiltered and unprocessed the honey is the same creamy-white I remember. The same sticky, sugary sweet flavor that clear honey cannot match. It flows like thick, sweet cream in lazy glossy ribbons that hang suspended in the iridescent surface.
It is a comforting taste. Warming from the inside a kind of sweet pleasure that speaks of toes curled in summer grass. Of wildflower meadows and lazy days.
But Honey Pacifica does my grandfather one better. They offer this beautiful raw honey in heavenly flavors. My favorite is Mango, followed closely behind by lemon. Clean flavors, pure flavors the only enhance the honey’s decadence.
I still eat it one spoonful at a time, though now a days I drizzle it over rolls bought fresh from the Farmer’s Market. Or better yet, stirred into my Trader Joe’s Greek Style yogurt. A most delicious way to start the morning!
Absolute heaven!
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