Here, now, is a rare insight into the inner workings of my mind. Upon seeing or hearing the words "Jordan almonds," my thoughts zip through a time tunnel back to grammar school. We are on a field trip to Radio City Music Hall, and we're about to see "Pete's Dragon." The lobby is packed with school kids and we've got money to spend at the concession stand. It's there that I see a box of beautiful pastel-colored candies. I've never seen anything like them. I must have them. And so I buy them-- for an outrageous price, I'm sure-- and I settle into my velvet seat, getting ready for the movie to start. I take out a pink almond and marvel at its loveliness. I pop it into my mouth and crunch on it. Um. Wait a minute. This doesn't taste like an M&M, I think. I really thought it would taste better than this. My first Jordan almond was a disappointment. I should've gone for the Kit Kat.
And then I zip back to the present moment. Turns out Alexandra is having a shindig to celebrate all sorts of milestones, including her 20th anniversary. She writes:
"When we were married (many moons ago) I was the typical Italian bride -- I had to have Jordan almonds as favors for our guests. One of the women I worked with made me my favors -- the almonds wrapped in netting. (I remember as a little girl, my parents bringing home favors - little plastic umbrellas filled with almonds and wrapped in netting with a personalized ribbon always comes to mind or some other plastic trinket shape ... but always with the almonds)."
Ah yes, the ubiquitous wedding favor. Jordan almonds and netting. I, too, remember getting little plastic swans or wishing wells filled with the sweets.
I wonder if there will ever be a Jordan almond renaissance? Will brides ever do away with the grand favors of today for the simpler, sweeter treats? Something tells me no, which makes me sad. Every kid should have a memory of five precious almonds wrapped in creepy netting.
