Two words which make me think of my childhood: condensed milk. We always had a can of it in a green plastic container on our kitchen counter, mostly for making a Vietnamese coffee (best coffee in the world, btw). This might also be the reason that I’m only 5’3”. Or genetics, whatever. I’ll always remember our old bitch of an electric can opener that would leave the edge of the can sharper than a samurai sword, so getting into that condensed milk carried a sense of danger as well. None of this easy safe pull-ring business that they have nowadays. No wonder kids these days are so soft – I blame ring-pull cans. And also the internet, because they’ll never feel the pain of having to trek all the way to the library to photocopy pages out of encyclopedias for school projects.