Chocolate muffins and fried calamari

I had a Proustian moment yesterday.

I've been having a craving for chocolate muffins, and I finally got hungry enough to walk out in the cold for a mid-afternoon snack yesterday. I have a memory of eating a chocolate muffin, warm, moist and oozy with melting chocolate bits. This is a Berkeley memory, and I probably got the muffin at the on-campus cafe, or maybe the supermarket. I wanted that muffin.

The muffin I found at ABP was nothing like the chocolate muffin of my past. Dry, cornmeal-y for some odd reason, with rare bits of chocolate. I even tried microwaving it. ABP was the only place I could think of that sells chocolate muffins; The on-campus cafe doesn't carry it. Verdict: sometimes, it's better to continue dreaming.

I was reminded recently of my mother's fried calamari. I was 6-7 then, when she was still willing to fry food. My mother is a progressive sort of person -- she goes through phases and never comes back to them again. It's somewhat disappointing since I don't have any homey-comfort food when I go home to visit. There is always something new instead.

The crunch of the batter, the bits of salt, the chewy bits of squid. Perfect, and never to be had again. I still have hopes for the chocolate muffin though.