Here yesterday, gone today

Went to the store today to get a tin of Treacle, needed in an old English recipe for making Ginger Cake. Surprise, surprise, no such thing as Treacle anymore, although there use to be, the shop assistant thought. Cartons of various grades of molasses have taken over, and while both come from the same source, sugar cane, there are definite differences. Google, of course, can give you the history of it, sentence and verse.
Before Christmas treacle can be added to any number of yummy dishes, all of which, no doubt, will get the closest attention at the celebration table, till eyes cross, and bellies are as tight as drums!
Have no fear, treacle to the rescue, only this time its companion is brimstone, for together they make short work of the pains of excess, and a few other complaints besides.

In Charles Dickens’ Nicholas Nickleby, Mrs. Squeers, a nasty lady, had a bucket of the stuff, which she’d doled out to the boys of Dotheboys Hall in place of food.

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