The epic mozza battle

I don't know what it is lately, but I think I've reverted to my five-year-old self.

You know, where you want one food, and only one food, and it doesn't matter what you have in the rest of your fridge/cupboad... all you want is to take a mustard sandwich to school, point finale. (For the record, I never ate mustard sandwiches, but a kid in my sister's class did, and has become famous for it).

Now there's a bit of a flaw in that paragraph... my parents say I wasn't a picky eater... and that's lasted into adulthood...

But here I am, with the eating habits of someone else's five-year-old self.

Last week it was toast. Toast and raspberry jam.

The week before it was potatoes. With all the toppings.

I think before then it was fish-burgers... and long before that was pepperoni pizza (thank god that one's over, it was getting expensive!)

Now it's mozza sticks.

It all started a week or so ago, when I went out to dinner with two friends of mine, and one ordered the mozza sticks as an appetizer. I nearly died. They were the most delicious mozza sticks of my very short life. I somehow managed to only devour two. They weren't mine after all. Then I had a brainstorm.

Frozen mozza sticks. From the Northern. Yummie, right?

NO. NOT YUMMIE. They were squishy, bland, and the colour was all wrong*. The "batter" was yellow, not crispy golden brown. It was beyond disappointing.

So Friday, after working a bit later than usual ... I decided to treat myself. Go to the Wolf and get take-out mozza sticks. You know, return to my roots, yo.

Cost for 6 mozza sticks? 17 bucks. That's right. 17 bucks.

I sincerely hope there was some kind of mixup. That I was charged for the ENTREE of mozza sticks rather than the APPETIZER... but I didn't say anything. I had tunnel vision. Inside that little rhombus Styrofoam temple was my dream-mozza sticks. And a piddly thing like cash wasn't going to stop me from chowing down.

Since then, I've come to my senses. There is no way I'm going to let some fried cheese put me in the poor house. So I've decided instead to make my own. I will be the "mozza-stick woman" in Rankin Inlet. I'll give them out as Halloween candy. They will make their way into Christmas stockings. Into plastic Easter eggs.

It will be divine.

To be continued (quite possibly later tonite after the first batch is made...)

*PS, to Tina, these sad, wilty mozza sticks were actually made by those same eegits who make the jalapeño poppers. Why did I even bother?