Amuse bouche... Pure Junk

The Donohues’ kitchen table was heaped with food. Not so much food, really, as junk. Or pure junk, as Carmel was calling it.

“That’s not what you were calling it last weekend,” said Sean, as he picked a mini Galaxy off the heap.

“Last weekend was December,” Carmel said. “It’s all over now. It all has to go.”

Sean stared to unwrap the Galaxy.

“Don’t do it, son,” Carmel said. “You don’t even like the Galaxy.”

“No one likes the Galaxy,” Sean said, “and that’s hardly the point. They’re here. And all the good ones are gone. And I might as well.”

“That’s no attitude for the new year,” said Carmel.

Carmel explained to Sean that she’d read that cross Russian doctor from the telly saying it was OK for everyone to put on half a stone at Christmas, so long as they got down to losing it as soon as Christmas was over. Otherwise, it would hang around till the next Christmas, and you’d be a full stone up, and on and on into obesity and type 2 diabetes. “She’s Finnish,” Sean said. “Same difference,” said Carmel. “And that’s not the point. It’s January. Discipline is back in the Donohues. I don’t care if last week you were eating Quality Street from the second layer even when there were some of the duds left on the first layer, it’s back to normal service now. And all this pure junk has to go.”

“Right,” said Sean, eyeing the mountain of confectionery that his mother had dumped from various boxes and tubs onto the kitchen table. Out the kitchen window, Sean could see his father trying to squash the plastic tubs into the green bin. Carmel followed his gaze. “Jesus, life was much simpler when it was the tins of sweets and you could keep the baking in them after, until they got rusty,” Carmel said. “Or you kids could hoard up your Lent sweets in them under your beds.”

Sean could swear his mother was choking up. He reached for another Galaxy. His mother slapped his hand away. Life was much simpler before they knew sugar was evil, Sean thought.

“Are you going to put all of this in the bin? You hate waste.”

Carmel told him no, she was going to make rocky road with a lot of the chocolate junk, and send it into the office with his father when he went back to work tomorrow. And then she was going to gather up all the dud Quality Street and Roses and bring them to Bridge.

“Young ones at the office and ould ones at Bridge,” said Carmel. “No need for either of them to have discipline. But you leave the Galaxys alone — no son of mine is starting the year chubby.”