Like most families, mine sometimes doesn't know what's good for them (or perhaps they merely disagree with my definition). I have an unabashed love for a certain discount shopping club (perhaps it rhymes with "Moss, yo!"), mostly for the insanity of being able to buy a gallon of three-bean salad for $7 or 18 gigantic croissants, or a new car on the way out.
Yesterday we needed AA batteries, K-cups, and bird seed, by itself a list of minor absurdity, but the beauty of Mossyo is that while we found all of that, I also considered an enormous crock of hummus (passed), a six-foot wide, double-hood, $1,800 grill (passed), a Rolex Milgauss (!!) (sigh, passed) and this tub of crab spread. Which I purchased (for $8).
When we got home, I began to enjoy this fine spread on crackers, from the counter, before doing anything else. I think it would be good on cucumber slices, but it might also be good with a spoon straight from the tub, or perhaps scooped back into a hollowed-out crab for decorative purposes.
Here's the thing, though: Lauren and Noah both hate Floss doh! Lauren dislikes the crowds that she finds crowding, and Noah because it's just boring (but he wasn't complaining about the giant frozen yogurt on the way out though). I am always in anticipation of the potential for finding something amazing, but I have to weigh that against that fact that they just don't want to go, even if it means that they can perhaps pick up snowshoes or a new elliptical machine or five steaks (or in Lauren's case, five tofu mocksteaks, which perhaps is a product).
They also, despite my urging, refuse to try anything resembling spreads made from crustaceans, whether it be crab, shrimp, crayfish or barnacle (mmm, barnacle dip), even when formed into a log or served in a bread bowl. Honestly, I don't get it. I brought home a veritable party in a tub, but they turned up their noses at this clear delicacy. I barely made a dent, so if anyone reading this wants to help me polish it off, give me a call.