Saturday Morning Nostalgia In Two Bites
This cookie took me right back to high school in the most delicious way.
Some things will always remind you of being in high school. For me, the taste of sweet cereal, being stoned, and walking around listening to slightly-angry-but-mostly-angsty music are the big three, and these Saturday Morning Mini Cookies from Korova helped me hit the nostalgia trifecta.
I made pot cookies once in high school. We ground up a whole quarter of devil lettuce and just threw it into some butter in batch of chocolate chip cookies. The cannabis flavor was strong and the potency even stronger. That was the first time I learned that overdosing on edibles means you are going to pass out and sleep hard no matter whose couch you’re on. Luckily, at a more scientifically measured dose of 10mg of THC per cookie, these were much easier to handle and didn’t have that heavy herbal flavor that screams, “Hey, there’s weed in this!”
“This cookie didn’t taste like I expected it to because it was so much better.”
A lot of edibles don’t taste nearly as great as they look and end up being more of a “take your medicine” experience than a yummy treat. This cookie didn’t taste like I expected it to because it was so much better. The hard texture I thought was foretelling of staleness ended up being delightfully crunchy and crumbly without being overly dry. It packed all the crunch of a freshly poured bowl of cereal with all the creamy goodness of cereal that's been sitting in milk for hours. The colorful specks of rainbow sprinkles took me back even farther in childhood to Saturday Morning Cartoons, but honestly I still watched those up until my junior year. I couldn’t quite put my finger on whether the taste was more Fruity Pebbles or Fruit Loops, because honestly I haven’t tasted either since I was a teen. Either way, it was nostalgically delicious.
Although the idea of couch crashing and binge-watching some original Jem and the Holograms episodes was enticing, I had to go meet a friend, so I put on my headphones and headed out into the sunshine daydream that is Los Angeles. It felt like I was playing hooky walking around stoned on a weekday at one in the afternoon, and I suppose as an adult without a real day job, I sort of am a truant of adult life. I mean, I’m in my thirties and still wear a backpack (although now it’s much cuter and made of leather). My body felt fifteen again, my limbs slightly heavy and lanky, everything moving with a slight delay, floaty and somehow poignant in its awkwardness. It’s not a perky get-up-and-go kind of high, but it's not overly depressing to the point of couch-lock either. It encouraged me to go outside and explore with an “I’m way too cool to run ever, even in PE” sort of attitude.
Ty Segall’s “The Floor” came on my iPhone’s Pandora station—all things that didn’t actually exist yet when I was in high school—but the heavy bass lines and resonating vocals with warm distortion and flat emotional affectation felt like a late-nineties acid flashback buzzing through my headphones as I buzzed around the streets of Los Feliz. It reminded me of going to the Warped Tour when I was growing up in Florida, back when my mom would roll all of my joints for me because I hadn’t learned how yet. I had a sense memory of being stoned and walking around bobbing slightly to some fuzzy guitar solo while feeling profound. While this was a much better experience than that concert because there were no neo-Nazis around to smash a bottle over a guy’s head during a NOFX set, I did feel the fiery spirit of the little punk I used to be, the punk who covered up her bleeding shrapnel wounds with stickers from a nearby booth and kept on rockin'.
“The smooth afterglow from these cookies made the red streaks in the sky seem a little brighter, deeper, and more urgent.”
As the song shifted to Nirvana’s “Polly,” I got lost in the dusky sunset and wanted to pull out my journal and write a poem about having so many feelings. The smooth afterglow from these cookies made the red streaks in the sky seem a little brighter, deeper, and more urgent. When I got home, I looked at the string of Christmas lights still hanging in my bedroom and realized these parts of ourselves are always there just under the surface. Little archeological pieces of our personalities covered up by the latest layers of time and memory are ready to have the dust swept off at any moment by the right sentimental cannabis cookie.
I think the little teenage stoner who lives deep inside my brain would think it’s fucking cool that I escaped Florida and made it to LA, that I now rate and review weed products for a hip website. And I’m pretty sure she would've loved these Saturday Morning Mini Cookies just as much as I do.