In just a few days, my son Oliver will turn 12 years old and not once in those years (or the one or two preceding his birth) have I been without a jar of Lyle’s Golden Syrup.
A former colleague with Scottish roots introduced me to this delectable, gooey delight in her kitchen and I was instantly hooked. She used it in treacle tart (so does Heston Blumenthal) and to drizzle over steel cut oats. Both noble uses but neither is one of my favourite ways to use this 125-year-old product.
For a year or so, I was a casual user, drizzling a little Lyle’s on pancakes or toasted frozen waffles on occasional Saturday mornings. Then I got pregnant. About then it would have been a good time to buy stock in Lyle’s Golden Syrup or futures or whatever it is they sell against sales of this magical product because once I was finished with morning sickness, sales of this buttery flavoured stuff went through the roof.
At least once a day from my second trimester until I gave birth (and yes, that ‘at least’ is not hyperbole. What I’m about to admit really did occur more than once on some days during that time), I made an Eggo frozen blueberry waffle in my toaster, slathered it with salted butter and then added enough golden syrup so that every little square was full to the point of overflowing. I won’t admit to licking my plate but I did lick my fork clean on one or two occasions that I recall with shame.
The truly comic part of this story is not that I had this crazy pregnancy craving, but that I didn’t identify it for what it was at the time. For instance, my mother and I went to Florida for a week during my highest consumption period and I recall my mother’s raised eyebrow as she watched me eating this combo (again) while expounding on how weird it was that I had no cravings! To her extreme credit, she bit her tongue and didn’t point out the obvious.
These days I dip my own spoon only very rarely into the Lyle’s Golden Syrup jar; however, Oliver often requests it at breakfast time. Is it by coincidence or by design that I’ve raised a little boy who loves the same syrup and waffle combo his mother craved while carrying him? Who knows.
Have any of you ever had a recurring craving? And, if you’re a mother, did you have any cravings when you were pregnant?
NB: If you’d like to learn more about what I do when I’m not posting here, check out this article from Saturday’s Vancouver Sun.