Thanksgiving and Christmas are magnets for exotic foods.
Out pops the walnut bowl, peanut brittle and ribbon candy.
Just looking at these treats is half the enjoyment.
Eye appeal is buy appeal.
We have our ancestors to thank.
Thirty thousand years ago, the last surviving group of neanderthals huddled in an ice cave, on a downslope of the Swiss alps.
Fresh out of woolly mammoth, facing starvation, they brainstormed alternative food sources.
It was too cold to leave the cave.
Pizza hadn’t yet been invented.
Gary, the leader with the largest forehead, was graced with a vision.
He saw a colorful box of exotic luxury foods that could be delivered right to your cave!
This little colony – The Swiss Colony – started their own cottage industry.
Necessity is the mother of invention.
As is this little history fabrication.
I’m a bit distracted.
The Swiss Colony catalog arrived.
At my age, it beats the Victoria’s Secret catalog by quite a few smiles.
(Wanna know Victoria’s secret? Half the material, twice the price)
But The Swiss Colony catalog is the eye candy that I can’t resist.
To extend the pleasure, I nibble on it a few pages at a time.
This year, I’m going to buy the most beautiful gift box and just look at it.
I told Margie my plan.
“Aren’t those things a little pricey?” she asked.
“Not as compared to art they aren’t.
Plus, you get to eventually eat 'em.”
Of course, I could save the money and just hang pages from the catalog on my wall.
But that would expose my little white lie -- I only get the catalog to read the articles.
But the gift boxes are REAL.
Heavy. Textured. Dimensional.
These masterpieces are not constructed of oil on canvas, but food on platter.
Food that is ART.
So this holiday season, picture me leering at the Swiss cheese.
Slowly trimming it with my Swiss army knife.
Purchased from The Swiss Colony.
Paid by Swiss bank account.
All the while, warm and snuggly, sipping on a steamy little Swiss Miss.
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(Photo above courtesy of The Swiss Colony)
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