My Strange Mexican Tale (Pack Your Bags)

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On the molding line, the chocolate depositor fills empty Kit Kat molds with tempered chocolate, and the fingers are dropped in and covered with more chocolate. A scraper removes excess chocolate and smooths the surface. When the chocolate is cooled, the bars are popped out and whipped through a wrapping machine. The production line was a barely interrupted blur of white, like dotted lines rushing by on the highway, becoming indistinguishable from one another. I learned that Kit Kats were slightly, subtly different all over the world.

In the United States, Hershey uses nonfat milk and milk fat, while in Japan, the factories work with whole-milk powder. Almost everything changes, but the wafers? The wafers never change. The wafers have a fixed standard that needs to be maintained, and deviations are not acceptable. Standing beneath the fresh, moving wafers, I asked Iwai if I could hold one, as if it were a newborn, and I did not expect him to let me. But he reached into the line and pulled one out, passing it toward me with two hands. All I knew was that the wafer was huge, golden, marked with square cups and totally weightless.

That if this was the soul of a Kit Kat, then holding the soul of a Kit Kat was like holding nothing at all. Kikyouya, originally a small, family-run sweet shop that specialized in kintsuba , a Japanese sweet filled with red-bean paste, has been making shingen mochi since the late s. Before I knew this, I ate shingen mochi in my hotel room, as Tokyo was being soaked by the outermost edges of a passing typhoon. With my first bite, I sent a little cloud of roasted soybean powder into the air and coughed with surprise.

The rice cakes were soft, chewy, delicious. And where the brown-sugar syrup trapped the powder, it turned into a gorgeous caramel sludge. Tomoko Ohashi was the lead developer on the Kikyou shingen mochi Kit Kat. It was more like a real pastry kitchen, full of dehydrated fruit powders and matcha organized in tubs, chocolate molds and serrated knives and a marble counter for tempering chocolate.

The challenge with shingen mochi, Ohashi said, was finding the balance between the soybean powder and the syrup. Because the sweet is so adaptable, everyone who eats it calibrates it obsessively, adjusting the ingredients so it tastes the way they like.

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Ohashi started work on the new flavor last September, and she finished it in May. In tests, she would make about 50 pieces of four to five different versions by hand, tempering chocolate on the marble table, and then taste them side by side, looking for the right balance of soybean powder to sugar syrup. Did the sticky rice in the Kit Kat help to mimic the mochi texture? After all the testing, Ohashi concentrated all the flavorings in the cream filling: the sticky rice as well as soybean powder and brown-sugar syrup.

The bars went on sale on Oct. Standing in the test kitchen, I unwrapped the new flavored Kit Kat and broke into it with a crack. The bar was a mini, two tiny connected ingots. On my way, I stopped for lunch at a small noodle restaurant and sat by the window, eating a pile of salted plums. I could see busloads of tourists filing out in the parking lot, their floppy hats secured with strings, their shirts wet with sweat. They were fruit hunters.

Yamanashi is green, dense with red pine and white oak forest and beautifully kept orchards that cut deep into its slopes. Fruit hunters pay to eat as much ripe, seasonal fruit as they like in a short span of time. Say, 30 minutes of thin-skinned peaches, or fat pink grapes, or strawberries, warmed from the sun, dipped into pools of sweetened condensed milk. Fruit hunters travel to eat the fruit on site, right off the trees, in their allotted time.

When the concept was explained to me, I thought the time limit seemed embarrassing. It was practical, it was beautiful and it acknowledged that souvenirs were, like memories, at best only approximations of the moments they represented.

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That it was, in fact, completely impossible to remove a taste from its origin without changing it in the process. The Kikyou shingen mochi Kit Kat was smooth to the touch, shiny. It had a brilliant, crumbless snap, which gave way to a pure white chocolate and caramel flavor and a lightly savory note. It was sweet, it was good.

It was in balance. And it recalled fresh Kikyou shingen mochi, vaguely, like a memory gone soft around the edges. She has won two James Beard Foundation awards for restaurant criticism. Not the boutiques or cosmetics counters, no duty-free sunglasses and designer perfumes for me. No, the pressing calculus as I make my way to baggage claim is driven by drugstores, kiosks, supermarkets and vending machines.

As with breakfast foods, I believe candy is often tastier the less expensive it is. I like my confections approachable. Shot through with a skosh of hoi polloi-ishness. Wrappers with cartoon mascots are promising. So is branding that testifies to soccer hooliganism as a respectable pastime.

If a wan man in a toque has ever loomed over the thing with tweezers, no matter how storied its provenance, I would enjoy its bootleg cousin more. Russian bulk-candy bins are feasts for the eyes, with trillions of variations on the individually wrapped chocolate bonbon. The art direction on each tiny canvas is a marvel, featuring oil-painted landscapes, shiny-eyed squirrels, polar bears and swans — even the occasional camel. The thumb-size rectangular one, featuring a startled-looking infant in a babushka, is my favorite. British Smarties beat American Smarties, because candy-coated chocolate buttons are superior to chalky pressed pills; of the former, the orange taste delicious.

Any flavor of Ritter Sport is crucial whenever you can find one milk-chocolate cornflake in particular. The green Haribo gummy frog is peach not apple common misconception ; clear gummy bears are the best bears. Hi-Chews lay waste to any other fruit taffy experience. Milkita melon is a singular delight — creamy honeydew drops — while Kasugai gummies in mango, muscat grape, lychee and yuzu in that order are a necessary part of any convenience-store run in Tokyo. When it comes to the United States, my opinions are more calcified. Red Vines over Twizzlers.

Hands down. Milk chocolate over dark; white is not right, and the only correct way to eat a Kit Kat is to nibble off the enrobed edges and pry the wafer layers apart. Fight me. Candy is controversial. As with a beloved sports team, your affinities and fealties have been ingrained since your prelinguistic days.

Such innate belief systems defy reasoning. How else could you explain how Circus Peanuts are still a going concern? Or those gnarly monstrous mint-leaf gel slices, the dial-up internet of candy? But no matter your brand, it will always deliver similar things: the rose-tinted pleasure of nostalgia, a brief respite from adulthood and, well, whatever else it is that sugar does for morale.

Despite all our differences, candy speaks to a fundamentally shared humanity; we like a lot of the same stuff. Most of us have some version of Fun Dip. Or Pop Rocks. Fruit leather. Bodegas, newsstands, dagashiyas and tuck shops rarely require selfie sticks. That in and of itself should inspire fondness and warmth. As a Korean kid who grew up in a former British colony, I might not ever be able to go home.

Mary H. As she passed out paper bowls, Beth Kimmerle smiled broadly at the dozen or so employees of Long Grove Confectionery Company seated around the conference table. Each bowl contained a slightly misshapen caramel of unknown origin. What do you notice about its appearance? She turned to a graphic designer. It was, in fact, caramel-colored, but Kimmerle, a year-old native Chicagoan who has written four books on candy and helps companies develop new recipes, was after something more specific.

Other suggestions included buttery, burnt, caramel — language that Kimmerle approved. Now she was ready to move on to flavor. She told everyone to write down any words that came to mind, whether they were one of the five basic tastes or any of the trillions of aromas the nose can detect.

Everything else is a texture or an aroma, a volatile, airborne scent. The folks at Long Grove were tasting the candy, but now their task was to describe its flavor, which exists at the intersection of taste, aroma and even feeling like the burning heat of a chile or the icy chill of menthol. Confusion radiated from their faces. The tasters began taking tiny bites and closing their eyes, chewing intently and rolling the caramel around on their tongues.

Just swish with water and try again. Someone let out an audible sound of delight. Everyone in the room laughed uncomfortably. Yet it did make a certain amount of sense. As children, we learn the names of all sorts of shapes, colors and sounds. But when it comes to the way things smell or taste, the only language we ever hear is qualitative — good and bad, yummy and yucky, delicious and disgusting.

And in adulthood, we learn that taking the time to describe the things we eat and drink is the pretentious domain of foodies and wine snobs going on and on about flavor profiles and horse-sweat bouquets. Once you start trying, you notice how difficult it is to assign language to taste and smell. The sense of taste is simultaneously public, because we come together to eat; and private, because we must put food inside our bodies in order to taste it. This paradox creates tension. Your experience of flavor is unique and unspoken; the mere act of describing it entails exposing something incredibly intimate.

What if you share a bar of chocolate with a loved one and describe how it tastes, only to discover your companion disagrees? I struggled to assign her much credibility. I learned to taste from chefs who trained in the finest restaurants in France and Italy. Kimmerle received her Sensory Expert certification after taking an online course from the Institute of Food Technologists. Could she really know more about how to taste than I did?

It makes sense that, within an industrial setting, the primary value of sensory evaluation is consistency. But why should nonprofessional tasters care about slowing down to describe the experience of eating candy? Come back and tell me about it tomorrow. They just drink and eat. So they learn, and they learn to appreciate. The point of candy is joy — pure, unadulterated joy.

In fact, matters of taste are highly personal, and often colored by past experience. Both genetics and childhood exposure shape our earliest culinary preferences. And for adults, nostalgia — a literal longing for home — can also affect the flavors toward which we orient ourselves.

Practically all I do professionally, in either capacity, is describe the experience of preparing and eating food. I tend to rely on metaphor — fireworks in my mouth! But sort of like my therapist does, Kimmerle, who was mentored by Fossum, had me set aside what I thought and narrow in on what I felt.

The sensory practice became almost meditative, offering me an entirely new way to experience taste. I wanted to keep practicing. The next day, Kimmerle suggested we try more varied sweets. We headed out on a tour of international markets near her home north of Chicago. Twenty-five years later, I still had no idea what it might possibly taste like. We sorted through everything and decided on a tasting order. Just as in a wine or cheese tasting, we wanted to save the strongest-flavored candies until the end to keep our palates from being overwhelmed.


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We agreed that the aflatoon , probably on the milder side, was a good place to begin. First, we noted the appearance: a speckled slice the color of brown sugar. Next, we sniffed. Like brown fruit? Or baked notes? Was she posturing? Even once we had tasted the aflatoon , I felt at a loss for words. It could be wheat flour, or almonds. And I still really get the brown fruit. It could be date, date syrup. We tasted the aflatoon again. I took another bite, this time noticing a gritty texture and the slightest tang as the aflatoon melted away. I started to feel impatient.

It tasted like pure citric acid and salt. I looked at the ingredients, surprised to find sugar and a host of artificial colors listed. Neither of us could have identified the presence of either until I rolled another pinch of the powder around on my tongue, searching for a grain of sugar. Each taste was so unbelievably salty that it made me wince with something between discomfort and pain. Yet my mouth kept watering. Or smiling. Eventually it was time for Pelon Pelo Rico. Pushing up on the base of the tube made the paste move through the holes at the top like noodles.

The paste was glossy and brownish-red. We agreed that it smelled like some sort of fruit leather and tasted sweet, salty, with tamarind and chile and a little grit to the texture. She was right — every single taste bud in my mouth was firing simultaneously. The sensation was utterly delightful. As we made our way through the massive pile of candy, I started to feel more confident about my ability to notice nuances.

We started to move through each evaluation more quickly, easily arriving at consensus. At one point I even wondered, Is this what it feels like to be good at meditation? Days later, I found myself thinking of that aflatoon again. I looked up recipes for it. Nearly every one called for semolina flour and raisins.

Back home in California, I found myself craving tamarind candy, so I went to my own Mexican grocery in search of several varieties, including my new favorite, Pulparindo. On the front of its package was what looked to be a cartoon-character version of the candy: a bar of tamarind paste with a jolly face and a tongue sticking out of its seemingly salivating mouth. Acid corrodes the enamel on our teeth, so we only need to think about eating something acidic and our mouths will begin to produce saliva to neutralize the acid.

Clearly, the Pulparindo guy knows that sour things make our mouths water. En route home with my haul, I bumped into a couple of friends. I excitedly doled out Pulparindo, certain they would love the salty, spicy, sour, sweet treat as much as I did. They were both suspicious. One carefully opened the wrapper, sniffed the bar and took a minuscule bite before recoiling.

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He might have even grimaced. Pulparindo bears a striking resemblance to it. I love biting through the crunchy coating of sugar and citric acid on the way to the gummy center. I love the almost punishing wave of sourness that lingers for a second too long on my tongue. And yet I remember being a young cook in a fancy restaurant, where admitting that my sweet of choice was chock-full of corn syrup and artificial colors and flavors felt potentially disastrous.

The chefs I worked for instructed me to slow down and think about everything I ate, even when it was just a deli sandwich or a slice of pizza or a scoop of ice cream. A version of sensory, though no one would have called it that. Dutiful young student that I was, I took the time to thoughtfully taste even my secret gummy candy, and for the first time I noticed that the sourness was only on the surface.

In Japan, the Kit Kat Isn’t Just a Chocolate. It’s an Obsession.

I realized it was the same granulated white powder I used to can tomatoes: citric acid. What if, I wondered, I added citric acid to the sugar in my next batch? I could make my own natural sour gummy candy! And I did. Recently, I bought a bag of candy — Haribo sour gummy bears, of course — and brought them to my desk to conduct a quick, informal sensory evaluation. I pulled out one bear of each color: red, clear, yellow, orange and green. Clear, my childhood favorite, was pineapple, tangy and tropical.

Yellow was lemon; orange orange. Red was some sort of generic artificial berry. I fished a second green bear out of the bag. Then a third. I put them in my mouth and let the sour coating dissolve away. Then I chewed. Worldwide, nearly 70 percent of cocoa beans come from Africa, and Ghana is the second-largest producer in the world, with a G.

Even so, Ghana has few producers of actual confections. Cocoa Processing Company Limited in Tema is one of them. Every year, the company says it processes 65, metric tons of cocoa beans, but it also has a line of chocolates and candy bars, including its lemon-flavored Akuafo Bar. Of all the candies in the world, Chupa Chups might have the most famous designer. In , a married candy maker named Luisa Spagnoli decided she needed to do something with the leftover nuts at her chocolate factory. She put a whole hazelnut atop some milk chocolate whipped with chopped nuts and covered it in dark chocolate.

The result looked like a fist, so she gave it the name cazzotto, or punch. The two renamed it bacio, or kiss, in These chocolate-covered caramels get their name from the celebrity trivia on their wrappers — quite literally, fan tales. Lokum picked up the nickname Turkish delight when it reached Britain in the middle of the 19th century and, years later, made a cameo in the C.

In its year history, the candy has become popular around the world. In , when an incident involving melamine-tainted milk shook China, production shut down for several months to ensure the candy was safe to eat, though in Singapore, consumers were told they could eat 47 pieces daily before experiencing ill effects. Ten years later, the company makes the candies with only imported milk powder from New Zealand. Born in a San Francisco licorice factory in the s, the twists have been the favorite of moviegoers and kids who like to bite off the ends and make a straw for more than half a century.

The brigadeiro, a fudge truffle, is a classic in Brazil and frequently served at parties. The story goes that the treat gets its name from Brig. Eduardo Gomes, a candidate in the presidential election. To create your own, make fudge balls by combining sweetened cocoa powder, condensed milk and butter, then top with sugar or sprinkles. Or take inspiration from the hipster versions you can find from New York to Brazil that include pistachios, coconut or matcha.

Back in , a Milwaukee man named John Flaig created a petition asking the company to bring the candy bar to the United States. Savoy, the original candy company behind Cri Cri, was founded by four immigrants in a Caracas garage in One of them, John Miller, had brought a chocolate-making machine with him from Scotland, and they used it to create the Savoy chocolate bar.

Almost 30 years later, the company created a puffed-rice version. In , that candy bar got its own name, Cri Cri, thanks to a formula the founders picked up by talking to friends, neighbors and kids: The name needed to be short and easy to pronounce. Today Savoy is one of the leading candy companies in Venezuela, and its products are often given in December during Amigo Secreto, which is essentially the Venezuelan version of Secret Santa. Confiteca, the Ecuadorean company behind it, designed it for the extreme palates of Gen Z candy lovers.

The S. What Zuckerlwerkstatt calls rock candy is about as far from the American version as it gets. A Bon o Bon is a milk-chocolate shell over a crisp wafer filled with a flavored cream. Every day, factories in Argentina, Mexico and Brazil produce 3, of the sweet treats every minute, and 70 percent of production is exported throughout the world.

In , the brand helped establish Sweetness Week in Argentina, a clever marketing campaign that encourages candy lovers to exchange confections for kisses. It worked: Candy sales in Argentina rise about 20 percent for a week every July. Pastillas are popular milk-based candies, originally from San Miguel in the Philippines. In the Bulacan region, the wrappers, called pabalat, have become a bit of an art form with cut-paper designs.

Pastillas are a celebratory candy and are often given for birthdays and weddings. According to lore, what a 19th-century candy maker meant to be a jelly bean ended up looking more like a baby, so a confectioner called them unclaimed babies — like the ones frequently left on church steps in the era. Edinburgh Rock, a confection that looks like a stick of chalk, was invented by a Scotsman known as Sweetie Sandy in the 19th century, when, as the myth goes, he found that old trays of candy developed a pleasingly crumbly texture.

But a local businessman named James Anderson stepped in, and Edinburgh Rock is still manufactured in Scotland. Flavors include peppermint, raspberry, orange, lemon and vanilla. Cadbury has produced the candy in Lagos since Cadbury reigns over the chocolate market in Pakistan; in , Mondelez, its parent company, accounted for 66 percent of sales, in part because of the ultrapopular Dairy Milk chocolate bar.

But CandyLand, the biggest candy company in the country, owns half the market for other confections. An animated commercial for the candy has real-life kids swirling animated clouds and rainbows to create the pastel-colored sweet. The traditional version of gaz, a Persian nougat studded with nuts, gets its sweetness from the excretions of a bug called the tamarisk manna scale, which is found on tamarisk trees in central Iran. Originally, people believed the excretions to be sap because they dried on tree branches.

Not so.


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Good news for the squeamish: Most versions you find now are made with other sweeteners. Lacta chocolate started in the s as Galacta, named for gala, the Greek word for milk. It received 1, stories and made a minute video, with more than 11, people voting online to choose the actors, character names and wardrobes; some even served as extras. Today Lacta is one of the best-selling milk chocolate brands in the country. Wedel started making the treat at the family factory in After the invasion of Poland, the company was forced to produce chocolate for the Germans, and Wedel was sent to the Nazi camp in Pruszkow.

He survived the war, but the E. In autumn, they are cafe latte and peanut butter. Trade Kings, a Zambian-owned company founded in , manufactured Boom Detergent Paste and imported foreign candy. But when its trade partnership fell through, the company decided to produce its own candy in Zambia. Now, its Amazon Pops are a signature product, and the company manufactures tons of candy a year. The pops are also popular in Tanzania and South Africa, where Trade Kings claims that it opened the largest candy-manufacturing line in the Southern Hemisphere in The treats come in flavors like black cherry, strawberry and pink lemonade.

He needed to figure out what to do with a bunch of leftover pineapple-flavored marshmallow from another product, so he covered it in chocolate and christened it the Pineapple Chunk. Over the years, Pineapple Chunks — or Pineapple Lumps, depending on the manufacturer — became a classic candy in New Zealand, and Cadbury manufactured its own version until ending production of it in the country earlier this year; now Rainbow Confectionery makes Pineapple Lumps.

Tamarind, a pulpy, sweet-and-sour fruit, is a common flavor of candies in Latin America. Pelon Pelo Rico hit the market in and sells several hundred million units a year in Mexico. Today the candy is also distributed in some countries in the Maghreb region North Africa and in parts of Europe.

Taichiro Morinaga, the founder of the company behind Hi-Chew, grew up poor in Japan. In , at 23, he moved to the United States, where he experienced candy for the first time and decided to become a candy maker. Eleven years later, he opened the Morinaga Western Confectionery Shop in Tokyo, and in it was the first Japanese candy company to produce chocolate. Years later, while searching for a gumlike candy that you can actually swallow so as to avoid the rude act of removing food from your mouth, he came up with the predecessor of the Hi-Chew, a Starburst-like candy with a softer texture.

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Since , more than Hi-Chew flavors have been on the market. The company was originally started by a Lithuanian immigrant who began his business making chocolate in the s. Originally available only in licorice flavor, the packs of candies now come in four varieties. Centuries later, monks in Flavigny began making candies with the seeds, attracting fans, including, reportedly, Louis IX. Today, the process is basically the same, with candy makers covering a single, two-milligram anise seed with layers of sugary syrup until it builds up into a hard candy that weighs a gram.

Shokolad Para, which translates as cow chocolate, was introduced in as Shamnunit but in the s was renamed because of the picture of a cow on its wrapper. Originally only available with milk chocolate, it is now available with everything from nougat to puffed rice to popping candy.

Elise Craig is a freelance writer and the managing editor of Pop-Up Magazine. At one point in the article, Strode visits a Finnish town near the Russian border and meets the local sheriff. For sentimental reasons, this sheriff carries around a dagger, which he hands to Strode. Apparently a previous owner used the blade to fend off six attackers.

I saw the finish of the fight — it was a glorious display of sisu. The sheriff slips the knife back into its leather holster and gazes to the east. I smiled at the pleasing symmetry. Granted, my surname does not double as an active verb, not even in Italian. Also, I was going to Finland to report an article on salty licorice. But otherwise, our tasks were not dissimilar.

Strode had introduced his readers to a word that explained a distant country and its underlying values. I would try to do the same, only with a really weird flavor of candy. Or umami, for that matter, This adds. Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice. Certain brands packaged themselves like breath mints, in stylish cardboard packs, to appeal directly to adults.

Which is saying something, because tiny Finland tends to punch far above its weight when it comes to candy appetites over all. A study by the London-based market-research firm Euromonitor International ranked the country fifth worldwide in per capita candy consumption. Three other salty-licorice countries, Sweden, the Netherlands and Norway, placed third, ninth and 10th. Americans, meanwhile, came in at a dismal 18th. Correlation does not mean causation, but come on, this is totally causation, right? All those salty-licorice countries clustered at the very top?

Annala had offered to arrange a salty-licorice tasting for me in Helsinki, as well as convene a meeting of the F. The first gala took place in , shortly after the founding of the F. See the St. Bernard slobbering over the shallots at Whole Foods? As you will have observed, an increasing number of your neighbors have been keeping company with their pets in human-only establishments, cohabiting with them in animal-unfriendly apartment buildings and dormitories, and taking them free!

No government agency keeps track of such figures, but in the National Service Animal Registry, a commercial enterprise that sells certificates, vests, and badges for helper animals, signed up twenty-four hundred emotional-support animals. Last year, it registered eleven thousand. What about the mental well-being of everyone else? In June, a miniature Yorkie caused a smaller stir, at a fancy Manhattan restaurant. I told her no dogs allowed but she lied that hers was a service dog.

This is the law. Alavian is mistaken about that. You could register a Beanie Baby, as long as you send a check. Nor does an emotional-support card entitle you to bring your pet into a hotel, store, taxi, train, or park. No such restrictions apply to service dogs, which, like Secret Service agents and Betty White, are allowed to go anywhere. In contrast to an emotional-support animal E. The I. The rights of anyone who has such an animal are laid out in two laws. The Fair Housing Act says that you and your E.

Both acts stipulate that you must have a corroborating letter from a health professional. Fortunately for animal-lovers who wish to abuse the law, there is a lot of confusion about just who and what is allowed where. I decided to go undercover as a person with an anxiety disorder not a stretch and run around town with five un-cuddly, non-nurturing animals for which I obtained E. The first animal I test-drove was a fifteen-pound, thirteen-inch turtle. I tethered it to a rabbit leash, to which I had stapled a cloth E.

Minutes passed. A man in a uniform appeared. Here are some excerpts from the letter, which I will tell you more about later, when I introduce you to my snake:. Marx has been evaluated for and diagnosed with a mental health disorder as defined in the DSM Her psychological condition affects daily life activities, ability to cope, and maintenance of psychological stability.

It also can influence her physical status. Marx has a turtle that provides significant emotional support, and ameliorates the severity of symptoms that affect her daily ability to fulfill her responsibilities and goals. Without the companionship, support, and care-taking activities of her turtle, her mental health and daily living activities are compromised. In my opinion, it is a necessary component of treatment to foster improved psychological adjustment, support functional living activities, her well being, productivity in work and home responsibilities, and amelioration of the severity of psychological issues she experiences in some specific situations to have an Emotional Support Animal ESA.

This letter further supports her pet as an ESA, which entitles her to the rights and benefits legitimized by the Fair Housing Act and the Rehabilitation Act of It allows exceptions to housing, and transportation services that otherwise would limit her from being able to be accompanied by her emotional support animal. He read the letter, then looked up. The Frick does not admit children younger than ten, but evidently the rule does not apply to turtles, because the man gestured welcomingly, and the turtle and I went and had a look at the Vermeers. Turtle her actual name is a red-eared slider who lives in Brooklyn, the property of a former mail carrier who was kind enough to lend her to me for the day.

The Americans with Disabilities Act allows you to ask someone with a service animal only two questions: Is the animal required because of a disability? What work or task has the animal been trained to perform? Len Kain, the editor-in-chief of dogfriendly. If you want to turn your pet into a certified E. Through a site called ESA Registration of America, I found a clinical social worker in California who, at a cost of a hundred and forty dollars, agreed to evaluate me over the phone to discuss the role of Augustus, the snake, in my life.

To prepare for the session, I concocted a harrowing backstory: When I was six, I fell into a pond and almost drowned. Using the same parameters, she asked me to rate my worrying, trouble relaxing, ability to sit still, irritability, and dread that something awful might happen. The next day, I received the following e-mail:. This was the only time I was evaluated. On my other outings with animals, I brandished a doctored version of the original snake letter.

If talking seems too last-century, you can consult thedogtor. With his penchant for coiling all thirty inches of himself around my neck and face, he felt less like an animal than like an emotional-support accessory—say, a scarf. He is the diameter of a garden hose, as smooth as an old wallet, and gorgeously marked with bands of yellow, black, and rusty red. As I walked down Wooster Street, Augustus tickled my ear and then started to slither down my blouse.

A moment later, I heard a yelp and a splat, and turned around to see that the startled fellow had dropped his can of soda. The real-estate agent, by contrast, went on about the granite countertop and the home office that could be converted to a nursery, but ignored the snake, which had got stuck in my hair tie.

A colleague appeared. Is he nice? Does he bite? I think yellow. Red makes the snake look too dull. Over at Balthazar, once the woman at the front desk confirmed with her superior that snakes could count as emotional-support animals, I was able to make a lunch reservation for the following week. An hour later, I learned that the Angelika Film Center does not require you to purchase a separate ticket for your snake, and that the Nespresso coffee bar is much too cold for an ectotherm.

To think that animals were once merely our dinner, or what we wore to dinner! Fifteen thousand years ago, certain wolves became domesticated and evolved into dogs. One thing led to another, and, notwithstanding some moments in history that dogs and cats would probably not want to bring up like the time Pope Gregory IX declared cats to be the Devil incarnate , pets have gradually become cherished members of our families.

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