On my last smash n’ grab at the grocery store, I ended up with a bag of chips with some sort of winsome farm scene and a proclamation about vegetables on the bag. They were in the organic section, so I didn’t even read the label. I am a trusting consumer. And my version of Supermarket Sweep includes crying if not completed fast enough, so there you go.
Last night, Mr. H read the bag. There is nothing organic in the bag. The chips have never been to a farm. In fact, the brand is a sham brand belonging to Frito-Lay. On second tasting, the chips taste exactly like Doritos.
“These are naturally baked,” said Mr. H.
“Naturally baked?”
“What does that even mean?”
“Left to harden in the sun?”
“I guess Twinkies aren’t naturally baked,” he said thoughtfully. “They just set up, like…ceviche.”
Which brings me to my next point: every time someone on Top Chef makes ceviche, I have to finish the box of wine. You’d think people on a cooking show would be more inclined to apply actual fire to food, but their loss is my liver’s gain.
I saw those chips in our local store too! On their own stand looking all farmy with a weathervane even! Evil poser chips. I, a fast fast shopper as well, had them in my cart when I randomly read the back in the checkout line. I put them aside while muttering about truth in advertising to my self loudly, causing the woman behind me to seek another line… She did not get it. But now finally someone does.
(Grammar and spelling police take the night off please)
Oh, hell, I might have bought two bags for a weathervane. Pigfuckers! “Naturally baked.”