There’s a local organization that, as their fundraiser, sells flans on street corners. Vanilla flans with caramel sauce. And, oh my, are they good!
Every day when I head home they’re there. Fortunately, they’re always on the busy corner, the one that would be difficult to stop at and then pull back out into traffic. Or they were until yesterday that is. For a year, I’ve resist. I’ve been so proud of myself too. Only yesterday they moved across the street, to the corner that you can use the changing of the light to pull out and my resolve flew right out the window.
I zipped Howie right over to the curb, pushed the button to lower the window, and whipped out my cash. They tossed my flan on the seat and off I went, all in less than a minute. And then I got silly.
Anyone who isn’t aware of this organization would surely think they just witnessed some sort of illicit transaction. It was warm so the flans were in a cooler. There aren’t any signs to indicate what’s being sold. You just have to know. If someone didn’t, all they’d see is a car suddenly stopping, an exchange being made and then the car taking off again, quick as can be.
Thank goodness the local authorities know what’s going on because I’d sure hate to be pulled over and searched just because I couldn’t resist a treat after a long day.
Every day when I head home they’re there. Fortunately, they’re always on the busy corner, the one that would be difficult to stop at and then pull back out into traffic. Or they were until yesterday that is. For a year, I’ve resist. I’ve been so proud of myself too. Only yesterday they moved across the street, to the corner that you can use the changing of the light to pull out and my resolve flew right out the window.
I zipped Howie right over to the curb, pushed the button to lower the window, and whipped out my cash. They tossed my flan on the seat and off I went, all in less than a minute. And then I got silly.
Anyone who isn’t aware of this organization would surely think they just witnessed some sort of illicit transaction. It was warm so the flans were in a cooler. There aren’t any signs to indicate what’s being sold. You just have to know. If someone didn’t, all they’d see is a car suddenly stopping, an exchange being made and then the car taking off again, quick as can be.
Thank goodness the local authorities know what’s going on because I’d sure hate to be pulled over and searched just because I couldn’t resist a treat after a long day.
4 comments:
Now I want a flan and there are no flan sellers on the corner here...
I love that stuff.
Oh that sounds soooooooooo good. No one sells flan here, either.
Although I did get some strange looks in the parking lot at school yesterday for a similar exchange. I pick up a couple little girls twice a week and drive them home. Their mom runs a pizza shop so she makes us a pizza once a week so I don't have to cook. Yesterday we pulled our cars alongside each other and I handed her the cds my son borrowed from her daughter and she handed me a pizza - many strange looks from the other parents - lol.
Oh, B,
Sounds so wonderfully delicious!
I don't know how you resisted for a year. You go girl!
:}
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