A Precious Commodity

So I told Carolina that I would bake an apple pie for Thanksgiving. I'm actually cheating and using that pre-made, uncooked, pie dough that you just have to unroll. I used to make my own crust many years ago. My mother loved to cook, and she was a particularly fine baker. I think this came from the influence of her Scottish grandmother. So I grew up enjoying home-baked from scratch apple pies. I was never much of a fan of cakes, but any kind of apple pastry has always been a weakness for me. So, I learned to make my own crust and used to bake a pie now and again, but that was all many years ago. This year I'm cheating, my mother would frown, but what can you do?

Anyway, I went to the store today to pick up most of the ingredients that I would need and once again I was confronted with a spice section in the grocery store with no nutmeg to be found anywhere.

I ended up at check-out and I happened to mention to the cashier, "You guys don't carry nutmeg?" English wasn't her first language, so it took me a couple of tries before she really understood what I was asking for. I finally said, "Nutmeg. It's a kind of spice." She then opens the drawer under her register and pulls out a tiny container of nutmeg and says, "You mean, like this?" DOH!!! "Exactly!!!"

So, they're hiding the nutmeg under the cash register like it's some precious commodity that is going to walk out of the store. Well, come to think of it, this tiny thing cost $5, so maybe it would after all. But, SHEESH!