Great Pumpkin Divide

We are a nation divided. This fall, that discord is more evident than ever before. We see it in signs placed by storefronts, we hear about it on the radio and television and read about it in the news.

These divisions seem unstoppable and unparalleled. They threaten familial bonds, create friction in the workplace and drive a wedge into long-standing friendships.

I’m not referring to politics here folks. I’m talking about pumpkin spice flavoring. It’s everywhere. You can’t step foot into the grocery store without immediately being greeted by prominently displayed items that are curiously and sometimes inexplicably flavored or scented with pumpkin spice. Cereal, cookies, even cheeses (the very thought makes me wince), are now produced with this ubiquitous novelty flavoring.

Coffee shops seem to most thoroughly embrace this fad, filling their retail space with heady aromas that, honestly, don’t smell anything like pumpkins to me.

If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m not a pumpkin spice fan. So when I walk into a coffee shop and order an ordinary unflavored coffee, I feel downright rebellious. Inevitably, the clerk double checks my request.

“You don’t want any flavorings in that?”

“No,” I respond, feeling like a teenager turning down a french fry — a sense of superiority with a touch of alienation.

Even my own sister, who I have been politically aligned with my entire life, announced during my last visit that she was excited for pumpkin spice coffee. I stared at her, dumbfounded. “You like that stuff?” I asked. “It tastes like pot pourri.”

She countered by brewing a pot of her preferred brand, which she insisted was only lightly flavored. In the name of family peace, I pretended to like it.

But I don’t. Not in coffee, not in sausages (heaven forbid!), not in yogurt, breakfast cereals or granola bars. Not on a train, not in a plane, as Sam-I-Am would say.

In years past, my distaste for pumpkin spice never felt like a big deal. But this fall, the once whimsical fad has expanded exponentially into a full-blown mania — a craze with an almost cultish following. Friends and co-workers proudly declare allegiance to this

trend as they clutch large cups with flavored beverages and chat about their excitement over “pumpkin spice season.”

That, really, is at the crux of my issue with pumpkin spice. It has kidnapped fall. It has permeated the entire season of cooler weather and changing leaves with a dramatic aroma that, to my olfactory senses, is unwelcome. Even, in its strongest form, unappealing.

So what to do? Truth be told, my distaste for pumpkin spice isn’t a unique experience. I occasionally run into other rebels who have shunned this craze and are equally puzzled by it. Misery loves company so I take every opportunity to commiserate with these likeminded dissenters.

I often find myself at odds with flavoring trends. Bacon and maple syrup infused foods have also filled grocery store aisles to my utter disgust. Less repulsive to me, but still unfavorable, were lemony tasting foodstuffs that appeared this summer. And still to come are a bevy of peppermint flavored drinks and snacks that are sure to hearken in winter.

So it seems that every season now has a flavor that retailers adopt zealously. Sure, some of these flavored snacks are fun to try. I’ve sipped on peppermint hot cocoa and munched on lemon cookies, and even, at my sister’s request, drank a full cup of pumpkin spice coffee.

Generally, I find such treats unremarkable. At worst I think they taste fake and even perfume-y. Once in a while, though, I find something I truly enjoy. In fact, I even like pumpkin spice in one item: pumpkin pie. I have in my spice cabinet a container of pumpkin pie spice that probably predates the pumpkin spice fad.

I expect that the pumpkin spice trend will reach a peak and then start to peter out. But pumpkin pie is a tradition that has been around for centuries and will continue to be a true harbinger of fall long after the last cup of pumpkin spice coffee is sold.

That’s a tradition worth savoring.