• burntbacon@discuss.tchncs.de
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      10 months ago

      The real stuff is great. The fake stuff is delicious. I may not be a strawberry fucker, but that strawberry syrup at ihop is sinful in it’s delectability. The aunt jemima fructose corn goo is orgasmic.

      The real stuff rocks my socks, but it’s also too expensive to slather on like I’m greasing my partner before said partner our kid’s pool wrestling matches. I appreciate the disaccharides I can get in industrial drum size. Gimme fake indian plastic bottles that hold diluted mud in them, and just dump em in my feeding trough. Let me squeeze the last drop of insulin out of my poor pancreas before my pumping heart explodes.

      • moakley@lemmy.world
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        10 months ago

        Respect, but the real deal is the only syrup in my house.

        My six-year-old daughter tried pancakes at a restaurant the other day where they only had Smucker’s corn syrup, and she hated it. She knows the taste of real maple. I couldn’t be prouder.