Eight dollars for a jar of pickles? Seriously?
Call me a penny-pinchin' philistine, but the artisanal-everything movement is making me crazy. (And other people poor.) Here are five everyday foods that have wrongly been elevated from the secular to the sublime.
Eight dollars for a jar of fucking pickles? Cucumbers cost about 35 cents, people. And last time I checked, a pickle is by definition nothing more than said cucumber soaked in vinegar and sugar. Unless you squeezed that vinegar from the sweet swollen teat of the Virgin Mary, you've got to be kidding me. (The goes the same for beets, okra, or string beans.) Putting things in a mason jar does not perform alchemy.
Um, there's a reason why people say, "That's the best thing since sliced bread." Toast—beautifully browned crispy toast—is perfect in and of itself. It's a simple, lovely thing. Sure, add some butter. Add some jam. Just. don't. fuck. with my toast. Do not sully my slices with your hand-crafted peanut butter that's been crushed by the fluttering wings of angels when Jiffy works just fine (didn't you hear it was kid-tested and mother approved?) Fancy toast is all kinds of wrong.
God, granola's annoying. Isn't this, like, horse food? Like you buy it from Costco in 9-pound sacks and throw it in your barn? Where are they sourcing this bullshit? Does it hail from the golden fields of Elysium? At $9 a bag, it better. You can't drizzle some honey and sprinkle some strawberries on what is essentially glorified bark and call it a luxury food item. I prefer to get my daily constipation elsewhere, thankyouverymuch.
Good grief. I get that there's a world of difference between Hershey's and Ghiradelli—I don't have a four-year-old's palette— but five chocolate bars for $40 bucks? That's twisted shit, man. You could buy a shirt for that level of investment. Two shirts if you're an Old Navy-er. Four shirts if yer a thrift-shopper like me. Fine, yes. It's small-batch and it's wrapped in hand-died paper (that looks like WASP-y wallpaper, let's be real). But I'm gonna go ahead and say that's some seriously delusional, pretentious shit. I mean it lasts, what, 30 seconds and then ends up in the toilet?
Again. Quit trying to mess with something that ain't broken. This is supposed to be a plastic tub in your lunchbox that gets all warm and runny by lunchtime, okay? A glass jar of yogurt? What is this, an apothecary shop? This yogurt takes three. days. to. make. Again, how can I even enjoy what is 6 bites of white-slop goodness with the knowledge that some poor wench had to hand-strain that stuff for three days?
*I am more-than-sure that every one of these items is delectable and my mouth would implode with gastrointestinal bliss upon contact. Not the point.