I had bought them myself, vanilla rugelach that Ta took to his morning minyan for tikkun. The men had mostly favored the chocolate instead, and Ta had returned with leftovers.
After my lunch, I looked at them. They looked back. Could I have just one? Was I capable of taking just one, and being satisfied?
I snapped open the container, carefully selected what appeared to be the gooiest of the bunch, and brought it to my mouth.
Oooooooh! Every synapse on my tongue howled in bliss!
I tried to nibble on it slowly, but it was gone! ImustImustImustImustImustImust have another one! My hand reached out.
And then pulled back.
My head was still reeling, my blood sugar was begging, and the sweetness still pranced about my palate. But I staggered backwards out of the kitchen as every fiber of my being wept. Please! Just one more! One more!
I hurriedly found a chore to occupy myself with, ignoring the internal wailing. Soon, however, I realized that I had actually forgotten about that delectable vanilla rugelah. In about fifteen minutes, the craving had passed, just as I had read it would.
I guess there is a reason why those "Gam Zeh Ya'avor" rings are so popular.