The below is one of the many hilarious stories from our new book, Great Tastes. It’s one of our personal favorites, and if you love it, you should buy the book for 19 more that are just as fun as this one!
A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away at a Jewish girls summer camp in Maine, we made our dance debut as sisters to the song “Peaches & Cream” by the R&B band 112. Always the foodies, we picked the song based on how nice the dessert these guys were rapping about sounded, not knowing what the true meaning of the song was. (This is a cookbook, so we’ll let you look that up on your own time.)
While the only time we danced to a song about “dessert” was at the camp talent show, the rest of the time at our summer camp also revolved around our and everyone’s sweet tooth. Candy wasn’t allowed, so naturally the stuff was smuggled in and out any and every way possible. Parents strapped Swedish Fish to their thighs on visiting day, brothers from neighboring camps taped Charleston Chews into the linings of their backpacks on brothers day, and at nighttime a bunk-hopping candy-bartering economy thrived as Jawbreakers were traded for Skittles—and Sour Patch Watermelon was the equivalent of gold.
Don’t get us wrong—we had plenty of “legal” opportunities to indulge. The cookie line opened at eleven-fifteen a.m. on the dot each day. Girls would line up outside the mess hall for their one allotted cookie—though you could get two or three if you knew how to trick the kitchen staff (Laura was particularly good at this in her heyday), and again camp would become what we imagine happens in prison when something valuable is traded, consumed, or confiscated.
Ironically, our Grandmommy always called camp
“the prison,” and during the two “grandparent” phone calls we were allowed a summer, she’d stay on the phone longer than the ten minutes she was allotted and yell at the camp director, who got on politely explaining that we needed to get off the phone.
“Let me speak to your supervisor!” she’d exclaim. Seeing as it was a one-person office in a lodge, there really was no supervisor, but what our grandma was deprived of in phone calls, she’d make up for in candy. Whether she came on visiting day completely stocked up out of love or spite isn’t really a question worth asking. The point is that in the years that our grandma came, we had enough candy to distribute illegally throughout camp five times over. It furthered our “Peaches & Cream” reputation of bad-assery.
After we aged out, our little cousin Jordie continued the Kosann legacy at our beloved camp in Maine. We decided we’d take two days one summer to go up and visit her. We took an additional two days to plan and plot the body bag full of candy we’d stash in the trunk of our car.
On the road, we listened to Indigo Girls, got hyped up on our own personal bag of sugar up front, and nostalgically discussed buying a plot in Maine and building a lodge to summer in. Upon arriving at camp, we realized it was eleven a.m.: We had made cookie line.
We waited in front of the mess hall for Jordie to come up from the lake, and each took a cookie in the meantime.
“This woman’s barely paying attention,”
Laura mused, motioning to the kitchen attendant monitoring the bins. “I could take a second one easily.”
“A five-foot-seven adult in regular clothes among four-foot campers in uniform. How do you envision that happening?” Danielle responded.
“I could do it,” Laura insisted, eyeing the line. “You’re twenty-five. Let’s let the challenge go,” Danielle said.
Jordie ran up to give us a hug, and as we headed back to her bunk and she raved about her counselor and activities, Danielle motioned slyly to our bags.
Perhaps there was a new camp candy code we didn’t know about?
“Candy!” Laura whisper-shouted. We got to her bunk and poured it triumphantly onto her bed. Jordie scanned the stash, delighted. She pawed through it enthusiastically, basically swimming in it. Though we were triple her age at the time, we’re ashamed to say we did much the same. We proceeded to distribute it all throughout her cabin in hiding places only someone with the building’s blueprints would know about.
We had continued our candy legacy, and as we drove away, windows open, Laura proclaimed a bit too loudly, “We brought Peaches and Cream back to summer camp!”
Danielle shook her head. Surprisingly enough, no restraining orders were served.
While we believe candy is best left to the pros, these desserts will do just fine in helping you get sugar high.