A Fable

Once upon a time, there was a Marmalade Queen. On Christmas, the Queen was given a bag of oranges from one of her loyal subjects. The beautiful oranges sat in a beautiful bowl in the Queen’s kitchen for two weeks. One day, she decided to do something with her oranges, but was torn between an interesting-looking orange marmalade with dried red chiles and orange syrup that required far less time to make.

The Queen had an appointment for a royal massage that evening and knew her time would be limited. Despite the appeal of the new marmalade combination, she decided it would be wiser to make the quicker syrup. She cast her eyes briefly upon the recipe and began to work, wishing heartily that she had a maidservant to do the tedious work.

She carefully cut the zest off her six oranges and put it in a pot to boil with sugar and water. It smells divine and the sweet syrup will be wonderful over pancakes, she thought smugly. Again the Queen glanced at the recipe to determine her next step. After letting the cooked peels cool, she was to strain them. The flavorful syrup would then be mixed with juice from the luscious oranges and some citric acid. She reached from the bottle of powdered Vitamin C and examined the label: ascorbic acid.

“This is not citric acid,” the Marmalade Queen cried. “I have no citric acid!” She looked in the food preservation book for guidance. It advised looking in the canning section of grocery stores or health food stores. She sighed, realizing she must go out amongst the common people on a lowly errand, right in the middle of her canning. The simmered peels set to the side and the royal canine bribed with liver cookies, she made her way to the imperial chariot.

Eager to get back to the sanctity of her palace, the Queen stopped at the nearest grocery store. They did not have what she needed. She walked next door to the hardware store and looked. No citric acid in their canning section. She sighed a heavy sigh, squared her shoulders, and soldiered on. Trader Joe was unable to accommodate her request and she was forced to consider the possibility of no syrup.

The Queen was becoming increasingly agitated due to the seeming futility of her quest as well as the rude behavior exhibited by her subjects. People in the stores were so wrapped up in their petty little lives that they almost ran her down several times. Not one peasant displayed the appropriate respect due the Marmalade Queen. Why, even the drivers blocked her way, driving well below the speed allowed by the law of the land, and in some cases coming to a full stop altogether in the road!

She was discouraged but hoped the next large grocery store might be more accommodating. After wandering the wrong aisle due to an ill-informed peasant, she spotted the canning supplies. “Aha! This is not pectin.” The Queen looked at the odd jar that said it contained citric acid but wondered about the other ingredients. How would she know the right amount to use? I am desperate, she thought, and gave the merchant money for the jar.

But she was still unsure. A purveyor of health foods was only a mile away. The Queen directed her chariot through the inconsiderate hordes. Miraculously, the glass jars lined up on shelves against the wall included citric acid. She obtained a small quantity for her supplies and proceeded to the merchant’s counter. A phone rang incessantly, completely ignored by two uniformed women. After two people in front of her were helped, the clerks were willing to take her gold. The Queen suggested perhaps they should answer the phone first.

The lowly clerks tried to curry favor with the Queen by saying they take care of customers first, to which the irritable Queen responded that the person on the phone might very well be a customer as well. The women insisted that customers who make the effort to come into the store deserved preferential treatment. The Queen, in a foul mood from her difficult quest, snapped, “I shall remember that if I ever call you!” She also pointed out that people calling were perhaps saving some fuel by avoiding driving all over the village as she had, searching for a rare product. The clerks were happy to see the Queen go after they had her gold coins.

The Queen hated to waste the kingdom’s gold so she stopped by the large grocery store on her way home to return the jar of inferior powder. She waved to the guard greeter at the door, saying, “I’m back.” He responded affirmatively. Upon her exit from the store, the greeter had the audacity to address her retreating backside. He did not call out, “Your majesty, pardon me.” No, he just yelled, “Hey, lady.” She turned in surprise to see whom would speak to her thus. He stumbled over his words, saying he was not sure if something was scanned improperly. The Queen was incensed that she had to explain her return to this peasant. He finally implied that she had stolen something, saying his machinery had “beeped” when she passed through. The Queen haughtily went back into the store and walked out the same way, proving that she was not a beeping thief.

The Marmalade Queen returned home saddened by her trip away from her palace. She finished making her syrup and it was very good. Then she ventured out again for her royal massage. Would she return as dispirited as she left? We may never know.