Stopping by Downtown Plaza last night after work, I rode up the escalator from the parking structure and into a haze of fresh, sugary caramel corn scent wafting in the evening air.
[Inhale] Ahhh . . . the smell of Sacramento shopping.
There’s a cart parked in front of The Limited. It’s red, shiny, and offers several kinds of popcorn - including the swoon inducing caramel variety. You can buy it in any of three sizes.
Except I don’t recommend it. I’ve only tried it once and its bark is definitely better than its bite.
It’s not about eating it, though. Ever since I first moved to Sacramento 5 years ago, the smell of caramel corn is associated with not just shopping here, but being here. It’s a foolish association. There’s nothing necessarily Sacramentan about the corn. But it’s always been there when I’ve been there. It always smells the same. In a very strange, nonsensical way, it makes me think very homey thoughts. It’s a comfort food I don’t have to eat.
This is a time of year for noticing scents I think. The mothball odor around your sweaters, packed away since May and now out, awaiting that final turn for autumn and winter. The faint smell of pine trees and the woods 30 or so miles away, circling downtown when the air blows just right. The delta breeze carrying the scent of California agriculture, good and bad, from the fields being harvested. The undeniable essence of seasonal change that will never stop catching me by surprise . . . .
Take a deep breath. What’s up your nose?