I used to dance with a cheeky cowboy named Cinnamon. He was the only black man who would frequent Cadillac Ranch, my favorite line-dancing joint, and he had rhythm oozing out of his spurs.

But that’s not the cinnamon I’m talking about today. I’m talking about the three different cinnamons in my house: Ceylon, Korintje, and Saigon. Turns out, they taste different from each other–thanks to you, absence of sugar!

Over the past few weeks (35 days in! Over 1/3 finished and no added sugars yet!), I feel as though my taste buds have come into focus. It’s like taking the film off the face of a new watch. Everything is sharper. More distinctive. More beautiful.

My least favorite cinnamon is Ceylon (Thanks a lot, Whole Foods and the monopoly Ceylon has over you!), which is the best for you and the least liver-damage-causing.

My favorite is Korintje, which seems available to buy only at elitist spice houses.

Ceylon’s too “I’m trying to be sweet!” and annoying about it, while Korintje is more flavorful, like it was kissed by chai. That’s right, it tastes like a flirty giggle.

Saigon is somewhere in between and by far the cheapest and readily available. (Least healthy = cheapest = ‘Merica.)

But the point is, there’s a difference to me now. It’s revelatory—on par with what I imagine colorblind people feel when being told there are numbers they can’t see embedded in those odd, intestinal cartoon circles.

What more flavors are out there that I’ve never noticed? It’ like discovering a new land! A tiny patch (not even a hectare big, whatever a hectare is) that no one wants or cares about, but whatever, I’m sticking my flag in it, dammit!

A pioneer of cinnamons today, a frontierswoman of who-knows-what tomorrow!

p.s. Walnuts taste buttery! #wtfthat’sawesome