Little Debbie Move Over

My sister Courtney and I had a childhood filled with ritual. One particularly happy one, but one that still plagues my calorie intake to this day, was the after school snack.

We would come home, grab a snack and then settle in for a rerun of Little House on the Prairie. Every school day for years. No lie. (Note: This means you cannot stump me in Little House trivia. I've seen most episodes twice, can describe even now in detail Half-Pint's grown up dress, and know that Albert was addicted to morphine.)

The snack could be a variety of things, but more often than not was a cinnamon sugar pop tart, or Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls or Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies. Now before you send my Mamma hate mail, understand that she canned all our veggies, didn't allow soda except for special occasions, and really, really tried to get me to like white beans. 

But back to the "Little Debbies." A few years ago, I was hungry-grocery shopping (yes, it's a real term) and the box of 1.29 creme pies was on an end cap. Nostalgia kicked in, and they went into my cart. The devastation set in, of course, when I realized that through no fault of my own, the packaged pies looked generally squished, and the creme tasted more like shortening than I ever wanted to taste again. Sigh.

But about a month ago, I had the opportunity to be a part of the 1st annual Charleston Food Truck Festival. It was a sunny 70 degrees, and I was loving life.

  

The cutest snoball airstream ever

But then, as fate would have it, this woman set up beside me:

https://www.facebook.com/CarlaBakesCharleston

I mean really? A baked goods booth next to me? But Carla of Carla Bakes was very personable and had some brisk business, and there was lots of oohs and aahs over bacon chocolate chip cookies. I had my eye on another prize, though. A homemade oatmeal creme pie.

It came home to the little kitchen to savor later, yes, possibly over a Little House rerun. While that didn't happen, the delectable cream with a touch of salt, along with an amazing, brown-edged cookie replaced Little Debbie in my heart forever. It was so good, Mr. Edwards could have played a jig ...