It started at Dollar Tree.
A month, or two months, or three years ago (these last five years have been so very long this year), my sister and I were across the street from it at the FedEx store for her to turn her recent birthday present printed on regular paper---creamy shots of the ocean, likely here in Ventura, about to charge onto the sand---into a bigger collage on glossier paper, pulled from a .jpg on the flash drive she brought with her for the guy at the counter to do it.
She had first seen the shots at the Latitude Gallery in downtown Ventura, but the price for a framed print would have only been acceptable if we could have climbed inside of it to live in it, in lieu of rent.
So that was the best way for our budget. And after it was arranged, price paid, receipt given along with when to come back to pick it up, we thought about where else to go. Nothing in the current shopping center. No notepads needed at Office Depot, no lamps at Lamps Plus.
But there, across this stretch of Telephone Road, was WinCo and Dollar Tree, among other places. I, at least, hadn't been to Dollar Tree in many months. It has a far better selection of books than 99 Cents Only ever will, much as it occasionally valiantly tries (I have four promising ones from 99 scattered around, including "The Leisure Seeker," which became a movie starring Helen Mirren and Donald Sutherland). That was reason enough for me to stop into Dollar Tree.
We crossed the street, walking past the side of Blaze Pizza, Dollar Tree straight ahead. And in we went for me to see what books I could salivate over.
But surprisingly, this is not about books. This is about what happened after I picked out three books from the stacks that are such a joy for me to browse, and then to worry over when I think I've picked too many. As an insatiable reader, there's no such thing as too many, except when living in an apartment with limited space, and the front parts of the shelves of my bookcases also stacked with books, besides the standard usage of bookcases.
No, this is about hunger, temporarily satisfied until it started again five minutes later.
I was hungry. Arby's was nearby (I like their sandwiches), but I didn't feel like Arby's. Besides, this was a short outing. We'd be home soon.
I couldn't ignore it, though. I needed at least a little something. And I went to the aisle that has packaged nuts, to see what they offered versus what I pick up often at 99 Cents Only from the Dan-D-Pak brand, mostly almonds and walnuts.
I spotted a brand called Snak King, which offered a honey roasted mix that appealed to me because it included almonds, but I was curious about the sesame sticks in it. My late father really liked sesame sticks, and so I thought I should try this pack for that, in tribute to him. I ended up buying three because it had been a while since I had had this pack, and what if I liked it and was left with nothing till the next time that my Dollar Tree book craving hit? Besides, I am always in full support of anything honey roasted.
We left Dollar Tree to walk to WinCo, to see about one or two things my mother wanted to know if they had. I vaguely recall something about cotton squares, but more memorable were the Campfire Marshmallows I wanted to get her as she likes them, usually above what we sometimes get from Ralphs, though far below the seasonal marshmallows that Trader Joe's sells.
I tore open one of the packs and dug in, looking for the sesame sticks, honey roasted also. I found them, reliably coated with sugar, as many producers of honey roasted nuts tend to do, and I tried one.
And I stopped dead in my walk.
More than sesame sticks, my father loved halvah, which is usually a bar made of tahini (ground sesame seeds), with sugar, chocolate, or other flavors. When we lived in Santa Clarita, close enough to Los Angeles to visit the Fairfax District every now and then, he was on the hunt for that in the Israeli supermarkets. I liked it well enough, but I never latched onto it like he did. I love marzipan more, really love it, in the same way he loved halvah.
But these sesame sticks. I had had my share in years' past, but I never paid much attention to it. This was a different dimension. It wasn't the honey roasted aspect that did it, but the overall flavor which commanded attention, which told you to really think about the taste, what constituted it, where it came from.
It's salty, yes, but an in-depth saltiness. This is not the saltiness of Lays that you just simply shovel in because they taste good, and the more you eat, the more you get to keep that flavor in your mouth. This is a flavor that asks you to go piece by piece, to really consider it.
The sesame seeds are an important part of it, obviously. But what really makes it is what I didn't realize at first was the main attraction for me: Malted barley flour. Malted is the keyword, because I love chocolate, strawberry, whatever malts, and malted vinegar, thanks to when John Boston, one of my old, deeply respected bosses, came to visit me here in Ventura and we went to a fish place down South Seaward Avenue, near the best stretch of beach in all of Ventura. It closed since then and is now Pierpont Tacos, but I remember his preference for malt vinegar, and I was curious, too, because it was malt. This also went back to the time at The Signal newspaper that I wanted to be like him as a writer, as a person, and I got into Tootsie Roll Pops for that reason, and even subscribed to the New Yorker for a time because he read it.
Naturally, the more of something you want, the less there is (except for books, thankfully). And that was the case with these honey roasted sesame sticks. One pack was enough, and I'd save the other two for another time. But I wanted that flavor again. I wanted to think about it again for a while. I wanted the center it seemed to bring, time and space that usually feeds into the obsessive search for knowledge, into more books.
It had triggered in me another kind of search, too. Even after having the last two packs later on, I knew I couldn't keep buying that honey roasted snack mix from Dollar Tree just for the sesame sticks. Not with the book section always beckoning. I needed to find other sesame sticks that offered exactly what those sesame sticks inspired in me.
It began early last month. We were shopping at Ralphs and in their natural nut section was a container of sesame sticks. $3.99. A price I normally blanch at, for anything. Mostly in between jobs (though I still work part-time at Ventura College, and I'm thankful for that), trying to gain a solid connection in Ventura, I try to spend as little money as possible. There are necessities, groceries and such, but I've vowed to live as small as I possibly can. Even when I do land something full-time, I'll do the same. It's good training, because it's not worth the consumerist hassle. A local library is always a godsend.
However, I also judge $3.99 by how far we can stretch it. Honey vanilla almond milk at least lasts for a while longer than regular milk. And I wasn't going to eat this container of sesame sticks all at once, so it would at least stretch for a few weeks. $3.99 wasn't so risky here.
With Ralphs' offering, I learned that it's a matter of balance between the malted barley flour, bulgur wheat, and the sesame seeds. The honey roasted sesame sticks from Dollar Tree (through the Snak King brand), were on you right away, demanding that you notice, and I liked that. With the ones from Ralphs, you crunch a few times, and only toward the end do you get that weighty tinge of flavor. They were acceptable, they worked as sesame sticks, but it wasn't quite what I was looking for.
A couple Saturdays ago, while my sister was out with her boyfriend and they stopped at Big Lots, I asked her to look for sesame sticks for me, and she found the Good Sense brand that's ubiquitous in that aisle, Sesame Oat Bran Sticks. I'm nearly finished with the bag now and to me, it tastes too busy, possibly because of the oat bran. That thoughtful flavor doesn't come through prominently enough.
After that offering, I went on Amazon, scrolling through its pages of sesame sticks. $14.99 for 2 pounds of honey roasted sesame sticks from the Anna and Sarah brand. 3 pounds of smoky bacon maple honey roasted sesame sticks from SweetGourmet for $19.99. 2 pounds of narrow, lightly salted sesame sticks for $14.11 from Yankee Trader. Heftier prices than the $3.99 from Ralphs, and riskier. What if I don't like Yankee Traders' sesame sticks and I'm stuck with 2 pounds? Choose one of them, and that's all I'll be choosing for a while with those prices. Still I look. Still I mull.
Last Sunday at 99 Cents Only, I was in the nut aisle, picking up my usual Dan-D-Pak bag of almonds (I've given up the walnuts for a while, tired of them), and noticed more formidable-looking packaging for Dan-D-Pak's honey roasted peanuts. "Signature Product" it said on the top right. I hadn't thought much about honey roasted peanuts then. The last time I'd had them was Walmart's brand, which always has too much sugar crystals stuck to every peanut. It's why I haven't gotten them in many months.
But I was curious about what made Dan-D-Pak so proud of these honey roasted peanuts to package them this way, and I put a bag in the cart.
Not long after I got home, I tried them and was awestruck. Finally, there's a company that has made perfect honey roasted peanuts! No sugar sprinkled on them like other brands. No honey-sugary crust that completely ignores "peanut" in the name "honey roasted peanuts." The honey was there, both it and the peanut working gently in tandem. An impressive balance for a snack that isn't often known for that.
And I realized that that's what I'm looking for in sesame sticks, that kind of cooperation. I want that in-depth flavor, but I want it to be meaningful like that, that whoever makes it has clearly thought about what it should be and has undoubtedly tested different batches until they reached their ideal presentation. And these honey roasted peanuts were it, to the extent that every time I go to 99 Cents Only, I'm getting a bag of them. I'm also going to use them as the model for my ideal sesame sticks. I'm not ready yet, but I may take a gamble on one of sesame stick brands from Amazon. If I do, they're going to have a lot to live up to.
