Cotton candy is a lot like insulation in its pink, light, and fluffy appearance. But let me assure you: it tastes way better.

Our cafeteria is celebrating opening day at Fenway Park today with treats reminiscent of the grandstand and youth: Fenway franks, sausages, pretzels and cotton candy—the fever is high. We watched sugar being spun into beehive-shaped cones by novice spinners who were soon covered in webs of cotton, little pieces sticking to their hair and others taking flight around the dining hall like edible pollen. I indulged in a sampling of everything, perhaps going a bit overboard with a stick of cotton candy in each hand (OK, three, if you count the one to go).

Candy floss, as the British refer to it, stirs warm memories of field days, carnivals, and county fairs—afternoons spent pinching off pink or blue puffs and marveling at the way they melt in the mouth. Magic, really.

If you happen to be going to Fenway though, don’t buy the balled up version that comes in a bag. It tastes like cough medicine. Better to wait for the real thing this summer when you can stretch out on the grass watching puffy clouds glide by while eating little clouds of your own.