I’ve been eating comb honey from north Georgia for the past few months, ever since the Gwinnett County Fair, where I bought several jars of Sourwood Honey. I love its buttery, almost nutty taste and its shimmery golden color.
But a few days ago, I went to the December meeting of the National League of American Pen Women. The women in our Atlanta Branch are great fun. I thoroughly enjoy meeting monthly with such highly creative, vital women. As I was leaving, after the meeting, Sally Hodges handed me a jar of honey. I tried to upload a picture of it, but for some reason I can't get it to load, so you'll just have to imagine the luscious, dark, rich, chocolate-y color. I have no idea what kind of honey it is, but the taste reminds me of maple syrup.
During the 26 years I lived in Vermont, I tried all the different grades of maple syrup and decided that the very best one for me was what they used to call Grade C. The C stood for commercial. It was the darkest, richest syrup you can imagine.
Then political correctness and marketing mania invaded the Green Mountain State, and Grade A became Grade AAA. Grade B was called Grade AA. And good ole Grade C became Grade A. The assumption, I think, was that people would think Grade C was sub-standard. This is the same sort of thought pattern that had people trying to change the town of Hog Mountain, GA, into Hamilton Mill. The ludicrous knows no geographic boundaries.
So, now, here I sit with a whole jar full—well, almost full; I already ate a bunch—of the richest darkest yummiest honey I’ve tasted in a long time.
Call it Grade C Honey.
That’s the highest compliment I can give it.
BEEattitude for Day #432:
Blessed are those who read (especially those who read about us bees!), for they shall live in a limitless world.
The teeny details:
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