A Very Bite Me Christmas

A vanished batch of peppermint cookie bars turns a quiet holiday prep into a whirlwind of mystery, laughter, and craft—and it all starts with a fruitcake. We open the doors of the Bite Me Cannabis Club to find twinkling lights, a missing “Santa’s Special Reserve,” and a community ready to rally. What looks like a disaster becomes a tour through joy: Shady Pines residents riding a gentle high, debating Beatles lyrics, and surprising everyone with the kind of old-school expertise that can save a show and reinvent a recipe.

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Chapters

• 4:17 Yuletide Setup And Warm Wishes
• 5:32 The Great Edible Emergency
• 8:37 Shady Pines Gets Elevated
• 11:57 Rebuilding The Batch

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 2:43

Hello friends, this is Bite Me, the showbite edibles, also known as Bite Me Podcast, as it's been lovingly referred to as of late. I'm your host, Margaret, and today is a very special day. Today is Christmas. And hopefully you're celebrating in a way that makes you happy and feel cared for. Maybe you're celebrating Yule Tide instead of Christmas, which is something that I've been sort of referring to it as as of late, because I do have a very dear friend who's not a big fan of Christmas. So now we refer to it as Yule Tide. Bit of a nod to our pagan roots of the past before Yule became synonymous with Christmas. And they kind of merged. But in any case, no matter how you're celebrating, I hope you are going to have a beautiful day with good food surrounded by people that you care about, no matter what that looks like for you. So today I thought I would do something a little different, as I've done in many years past for the Christmas episode that tends to come out, or maybe I should be calling it the Yuletide episode. And I will be sharing a story with you all. A Bite Me Christmas. The great edible emergency. It was December 23rd at the Bite Me Cannabis Club, and the air was thick with the scent of pine, gingerbread, and the distinctive herbal aroma that made the place feel like home. Twinkling lights were strung haphazardly around the jars of gummies, the display cases of artisanal chocolate bars, and the framed poster for the local access cable show Bite Me, which had somehow become a cult hit. Mary, the club's founder and head chocolatier, was in a panic. They're gone, she whispered, her usual calm completely shattered. The entire batch of Santa's Special Reserve, the limited edition peppermint cookie space cake bars, the ones for Christmas Eve, for the show taping. They're gone. The small team that made Bite Me special froze. Leo, the show's eternally mellow cameraman and edible enthusiast, slowly lowered his video camera. Whoa. That's definitely not cool, man. Samir, the brilliantly precise baker who engineered their most complex treats, checked his logbook for the third time. The cooling room was locked. The security feed shows nothing but a blur of red and white. Rosa, the club's culinary sommelier, who could pair a sativa gummy with a cheese plate like a master, snapped her fingers. The show's special guest, Mrs. Henderson from next door. She brought over that fruitcake this afternoon. The entire crew shuddered. Mrs. Henderson's fruitcake was legendary, a dense, indestructible brick that had been re-gifted for generations. She wouldn't, Mary said. She's eighty-eight and thinks OG Cush is a new laundry detergent. Just then the bell on the club's door jingled. In walked Mr. Chen, the retired postal worker who was their most loyal customer and the show's biggest fan. He looked uncharacteristically frazzled. Mary, team, we have a situation, he announced, removing his snow dusted hat. It's the entire Shady Pines retirement village. What about them? Samir asked, sensing already the connection. They're elevated. Joyously, chaotically, profoundly elevated, and they're all talking about a magic mint cookie that appeared in their community lounge gift exchange. A collective groan filled the room. Santa's special reserve had an unusually fast onset and was famously potent. The thought of Shady Pines under its influence was terrifying. There would be chaos, calls to authorities, and the end of Bite Me forever. We have to contain this, Mary said, her business owner instincts kicking in. Leo, Samir, go to Shady Pines. Provide support and hydration. Rosa, you're with me. We have six hours to recreate the batch from scratch for tomorrow's show. The two teams sprang into action. At Shady Pines, Leo and Samir found a scene of delightful, if surreal, pandemonium. In the game room, a group was engaged in a furiously competitive yet slow-motion game of ping pong, marveling at the cosmic spin of the ball. In the lounge, someone had put on a vinyl of the Beatles' revolver, and a circle of residents were having a deeply philosophical debate about the meaning of I'm only sleeping. Mr. Jacobs, a normally grumpy former accountant, was happily braiding tinsel into the beard of a very patient orderly. And at the center of it all was Mrs. Henderson holding court. It was simply the most remarkable fruitcake I've ever tasted, she proclaimed. So expansive. Leo, filming discreetly, whispered to Samir, This isn't a disaster. This is the best episode we never shot. Back at the club, Maya and Rosa were a whirlwind of cocoa butter, peppermint oil, and carefully measured rosin. But the process was slow, and the special peppermint candy cane dust that gave the bars their festive sparkle was all gone, used in the original batch. It's not the same without the sparkle. Mary sighed on the verge of tears as the clock ticked past 10 PM. The show's about the joy, the craft, the specialness. A plain bar won't do. Just then the door jingled again. In shuffled the entire contingent from shady pines, led by a beaming Mrs. Henderson and a slightly shell shocked but smiling activities director. The residents were now in the gentle, cozy come down phase, wrapped in blankets and wearing smiles of deep contentment. We came to apologize, misses Henderson said, holding out a Tim. I may have accidentally switched my fruitcake with your platter of treats when I visited. This experience was entirely my fault. Mary stared, speechless. Mr. Chen stepped forward. In the spirit of the season, and as thanks for the most interesting Christmas party Shady Pines has ever had, we'd like to help. He gestured to the residents. We may be old, but we have skills. Doris was a confectioner. Arthur was a chemist, and I can follow instructions like nobody's business. And so in a beautiful, chaotic reversal, the bite me team was gently shuffled aside. Under Doris's firm direction and Arthur's precise measurements, the retirees took over the kitchen. They worked a quiet efficiency of a lifetime of experience, humming carols as they tempered chocolate and mixed fillings. Mr. Chen, with military precision, began packaging. By midnight, not only was the entire Santa's special reserve batch replaced, but it was also doubled, each bar perfectly decorated with the new, even more spectacularly glittery dust that Doris had whipped up from crushed sugar crystals and edible pearl powder. It's a Christmas miracle, Rosa whispered, clutching a hot cocoa. The next day, Christmas Eve, the Bite Me Studio was packed with the crew, the residents of Shady Pines as honored guests, and a gleaming pile of rescued treats. The show taping was magical. They sampled the bars, a modest, show appropriate microdose, shared stories of the great edible exchange, and even had a segment where Doris demonstrated her glitter dust technique. As the taping wrapped, Leo panned the camera across the happy, smiling faces. Mary stepped forward for her traditional sign-off. This show, this club, was never really about cannabis, she said, her voice thick with emotion. It was about community, about breaking down barriers and sharing joy. It just took a little holiday mix-up to remind us of that sometimes. The most special people can come from where you least expect. From all of us at Bite Me, Merry Christmas. The crew cheered. The residents of Shady Pines applauded. Mrs. Henderson waved at the camera. And cut, Leo said. That's a wrap. Best episode ever. As everyone mingled and shared treats, Mary felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Mrs. Henderson holding two of the special bars. A gift for you, dear, she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. It suddenly seemed entirely deliberate. She leaned in close and lowered her voice to a whisper. And don't worry, my original fruit cake recipe is safe with me. Let's just say my late husband Herbert was a botanist with a very interesting greenhouse. She winked, placed the bars in Mary's stunned hands, and shuffled off to join Arthur in a debate about the optimal infusion temperature for butter. Mary looked down at the shimmering bars, then at the unlikely, wonderful community now buzzing through her club. She smiled, realized the true surprise of the season wasn't the missing edibles, but the discovery of a whole new, unexpectedly brilliant and delightfully experienced family. The camera, forgotten on his tripod, captured it all. Laughter, togetherness, the unlikeliest of friendships, and Mary's dawning, joyful smile as she took her first bite of a truly special Christmas. And that, my friends, is the Christmas miracle at the Bite Me Cannabis Club. It goes without saying that I really do feel the sentiment of this show. Bite Me Podcast, the Bite Me Cannabis Club, any of the things that I've put out into the world over the last few years wouldn't be possible without all of you, the Bite Me Community. I appreciate you. Thank you for listening, my friends. I'm your host, Margaret. Merry Christmas. Happy Yuletide, and stay high.