Food

An Open Letter to Doritos- “But is it yogurt flavored?”

Dear Doritos,

I imagine right about now you are asking yourselves what happened. Why has your glorious decision of soft-ish chips, directed towards the females of the planet, been targeted by trollish harassment and mockery since its announcement. Somewhere, I imagine there is an R&D specialist who is gazing woefully at the trending hashtags of #LadyDoritos. They lurch every time the phone rings, expecting the call to be from their immediate supervisor, alerting them of their immediate termination over what can only be described as a social and cultural misstep that fails to recognize the needs of specific user groups and imposes values and desires on a specific group without proper consideration.

Somewhere, that R&D specialist is weeping into their bag of chips, making them soggy, gazing malignly at a bowl of orange mush vaguely resembling Donald Trump’s face in both skin and, I imagine, texture, wondering how did we get it so wrong?

Was it the concept of soft Doritos? No. I know plenty of people who detest the sound of crunching chips. They equate it to a leaf mulcher eating human bones. To them, it is worse than finger nails down a chalkboard. There are others still, who hate the feeling of your equilateral products scraping the delicate corners of their mouths, cutting in like a foodie’s Glasgow smile. Some of us hate the feeling of chip bits falling down our shirts, getting caught in our bras or man girdles. We all have our neurotic likes and dislikes when it comes to our snack foods, but I’ll let you in on a secret for the general population…

Never once, when discussing my snack food choices with my coworkers, loved ones, or strangers on the train, have we ever considered semi-raw potatoes rolled in fake cheese and sodium as an appropriate alternative to our chip problems.

You know why, Doritos?

Because no one fucking cares.

Look around you. Look at the state of the world. Have you seen who the President of the United States is? Did you notice that there is still war and famine across the globe? Did you notice the opioid epidemic on your streets or take into account the rate of homelessness around you? You probably did, but like most corporations, you saw it as a by-product of the time and instead opted to focus your research and energy into a literal half-baked scheme that no one asked for.

Least of all women.

And there’s your second issue right there. I’m not sure. Maybe your R&D group is a bunch of old white men raised on some cotton farm in southern Alabama where women still wear petticoats and do declare things with appropriately subdued enthusiasm, but the ladies I know are not marching for softer chips for our delicate lady palates. Unless your Doritos are going to be extra absorbent when it comes to dealing with my period blood, or, I don’t know, fucking yogurt flavored (because apparently we are really into yogurt too), I could quite literally not give a single shit about the crunchy level of your product. I’m too goddamned busy worrying about, and coming to terms with, sexual harassment in the workplace, and the fact that my male coworkers are paid more than me, and the assholes that think me smiling at them is an invitation for them to call me things like “sweet cheeks” and “sexy” that, hey, if I don’t return in kind, suddenly turn into alarming forms of aggression and derogatory comments like the goddamned c-bomb or even fucking grabbing at me

Who, just tell me who thought women wanted softer Doritos? Who thought, in an age marked by struggles for equality among gender and sexual orientation and race, it would be a great idea to market fucking slightly softer Doritos to an entire group of people. Are you shitting me? No, you’re not, though an over-indulgence in your product would certainly lead to plenty of distressing shits that I wouldn’t wish on my greatest enemy.

Here’s a better question for you.

Who asked you for this? And, follow up question, did they also ask you if you really think you should be vaccinating your kids? Because I’m guessing someone who shows the passion for one probably has enough time to waste on the other.

I understand as a snack product you need to stay on top of things. You have to keep up with trends and constantly be producing the next best thing. In a market saturated with delicious treats and snacks, it is vital that you are always in. Here’s an idea. Try a new flavor. Goddamned novelty flavors are all the rage. People love trying new, stupid flavors that they know will only be around for a short period of time. Hell, Japan has made a name for itself offering up weird-ass chip flavors that we can’t even dream of here in North America. You can be damn sure that if Doritos put out a Seafood Jazz Dorito or Cheesy Enchilada Dorito flavor people would eat that shit up. Again, literally. Lays has made a name for itself having contests about chip flavors! Doesn’t that seem like a good idea? That seems like a good idea to me. Much better than trying to market an insulting snackfood to half the world who, just to remind you, never asked for it.

Times are changing, Doritos. You have to use a measure of social intelligence and recognize the values of the culture in which you are trying to market your product.

Spoiler alert: our current top ten values do not, and I would guess will never include slightly softer chips.

Sincerely,

Kathleen Sawisky Esq.

An Open Letter to Swanson Steamfresh products “The Age of Sauce Is Upon Us”

Thought: Why do we call them ‘Corn Mazes’? What fool overlooked the hilarious opportunity for it to be a “Maize Maze”?

Dear Swanson Steamfresh,

As I write this I am witnessing my husband’s face contort in a wildly amusing way. I might say I could have told you so to him, but that would only create marital strife, and quite frankly we are only two or three misplaced words away from dueling to the death on the eaves trough of our new house.

His face is contorting partially because, in an effort to rid himself of what is a remarkable and intense, I hesitate to use the word ‘flavour’, he has opted to pour himself a generous portion of scotch whiskey, which I purchased for him after starting my new job as a sort of thank you for being such a loving and supportive husband and refusing my offers to duel on the eaves trough of the house.

He has poured himself this generous portion of whiskey because he just ate a small bite of your “Flavor Full” Barbeque Sweet Corn product and it has not agreed with him.

I understand that we live in the Age of Sauce, Swansons. Much like a Ritolin Riddled Millennial, we ask that all pre-packaged foods come doused in succulent, varied flavours to ensure that we are not bored by the process of eating. Heaven forbid boredom should set in – we might fall asleep, our heads swallowed by our Hungry Man meals, mashed potatoes inhaled into our sinuses and suffocating us before we’d have a chance to reach for the paprika to remedy the sheer, unadulterated boredom that is eating.

But really, does everything need a sauce? Am I so incapable of squeezing a lemon or reaching for that bottle of Artisnal BBQ sauce that I purchased from the local farmer’s market that you must take it upon yourself to slather my frozen vegetables with this shlock? What’s worse is that it isn’t even interesting BBQ sauce. You add it to your product to encourage the eating of vegetables and, I presume, corn. But here’s the thing, Swanson. No one is prepared to admit that corn is the single most god-awful vegetable in the face of the planet. Corn was not made to be consumed in its natural form. Why else have we turned it into syrup and bread? because it’s a fucking disaster of a vegetable! In order to eat it properly the average human requires years of extensive orthodontic and dental intervention, and even then the minute you have one kernel stuck between your teeth it becomes a crisis, with mom piling all the kids into the car at 7:30 at night to make an emergency trip to the dentist just so you can have the damn thing surgically removed.

Corn is not the friend of mankind, and no amount of BBQ sauce will ever make it so. Even my own special reserve of artisanal sauce made from the blood of wild horses that were slaughtered under the full moon can’t make corn palatable. It’s an impossibility, so please, do us all a favour and stop trying to make sauce-ridden corn happen. It isn’t going to happen. At least when I steam my own corn I can douse it with rye whiskey and set it on fire. that makes it marginally more edible. Try doing that with your saucesational BBQ and Sweet Corn. You can’t, can you? Because whatever is in that BBQ sauce is an affront to nature itself and consumes fire to gain strength. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that my garbage can has melted into the foundation of the house after my husband disposed of the bag.

I guess what I am getting at here, Swanson, is that you don’t have to douse everything in sauce. Potato wedges can just be potato wedges. Non-specific-type-of-Asian-Medley can just be a non-specific-type-of-Asian-Medley (I’ll save that for another open letter, although my guess is you know what I am going to say, and if you don’t I would suggest you google ‘Asia’ and then ‘regional cuisine’ and tell me how many of those countries actually utilize baby corn in their meals.)

You know what I do like, Swansons? Your Pure & Simple frozen veggies. I don’t feel like in my wild attempts to create a balanced meal I will somehow have to create a meat sensation that somehow compliments the strange, fanciful saucy veg that you have prepackaged for me. If I want to make my Russian Prince Salt Chicken, which is delicious by the way, I will have no concerns about it clashing with your Broccoli Florets because those florets are sauce free. Unlike the Buffalo Cauliflower which, speaking as someone who has never eaten a buffalo before, seems poorly named. I know you worry about us, and you worry that we aren’t eating enough greens, but trust me, we will if you only give us the chance. Like reluctant parents finally giving their 18-year-old the keys to the car, you have to give us some responsibility so we can prove ourselves. Yes, we are capable of seasoning our own vegetables. Yes, we can decide how much salt we want to put on the green beans. Yes, we can. Let us go, Swanson. Let us fly.

And here’s another thing. “Flavour Full”. Really? Really? That’s what you’re going with? Perhaps it is the savvy consumer in me, but I want to know what you’re trying to hide by calling these bags of sauces “Flavour Full” instead of “Flavorful”. Is it because the sauce to vegetable ratio is so lopsided? Is it because what you have included in these products can’t be called ‘flavour’ so much as ‘artificially enhanced spice dollops’? No one thinks that is witty, Swanson. If anything, the lack of concern for the English language is disturbing. You’re already on thin ice with your Salisbury Steak Hungry Man Meal – don’t push your luck by desicrating a word as simple as ‘flavourful’. You know what would have been a good name for them? Swanson’s Steamfresh Flavour Punched Vegetables. Because then I imagine someone punching an ear of corn and that fills me in a way that frozen vegetables never can.

Bored Baking – Episode 3: Puncha Yo Buns Coconut Lime Loaf

Day 1,254: Still Unemployed. The morale of the troops is beginning to wane. I presume this has something to do with the $68 dollars in the bank account and the fact that one can only replay Borderlands 2 so many times.

Plus side, today I located an online food calculator which tells me just how awful these homemade delicacies are for my gullet. Assuming one gets 12 servings from a pan, you can expect to consume roughly 166 calories per serving of Puncha Yo Buns loaf. Why Puncha Yo Buns? As my friend Shawna pointed out, I was wearing an Adventure Time tee-shirt while baking them. The name just makes sense.

Here we go, folks. Bored Baking, Episode 3: Puncha Yo Buns Coconut Lime Loaf!

Acknowledge the presence of the loneliest garlic.

This is the highlight of my day. Everything else goes downhill from here.

2. Having acknowledge the garlic, it is now your responsibility to go out and beat up a variety of evil witches until they give you the following goods, or you are arrested. Either or.

1.5 cups flour
3/4 cups white sugar
3 eggs
1/2 cup butter
1/2 heaping cup of sour cream
1/3 cup coconut milk. Regular stuff, unsweetened. None of this ‘lite’ nonsense.
1 cup unsweetened coconut shavings or scrapings. Whatever you’d call it.
juice of 1.5 limes
zest of 1 lime
1 teaspoon of baking soda
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract. Or however much you want. I don’t care. I’m not your supervisor.

Full disclosure: I had to kill a man in Reno to get those eggs.

If I were, I would wonder why you were spending all your time baking instead of making those debt collection calls, which is your job.

3. Now that you’d gathered your ingredients and, I assume, painted your face in the recommended ritual calf’s blood, you’re going to want to toss that butter and sugar into your mixer.

Don't forget to chant the incantation from page six of the Enchiridion over the mixer while it is on.

Don’t forget to chant the incantation from page sixty-seven of the Enchiridion over the mixer while it is on.

4. Now toss in however much vanilla you want. It doesn’t matter. You can never have too much vanilla. That is a proven fact.

I mean, it hasn't been proven by any actual sources, per say...

I mean, it hasn’t been proven by any actual sources or professionals, per say…

5. Blend it until it is all creamy and smells distinctly like the enticing perfume of the local harpies. Try to resist the urge to prostrate yourself in front of the mixer.

Self-restraint is the key to all incantations and/or recipes.

6. Now toss in your eggs. If you can’t get your hands on Mock Turtle eggs, hen’s eggs will do just fine. Make sure they were taken from the hen under the light of a pregnant moon. Blend it.

Mock Turtle eggs are what Giada recommends. Who am I to disagree?

7. Add your sour cream. If you were unable to milk the brown spotted cow required for the recipe yourself, store-bought sour cream will work in a pinch.

Store bought? It’s like you’re not even trying anymore.

8. Add the lime zest and coconut. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Here comes some ridiculous requirement, like the limes have to be cross-bred with an antelope and only picked during the second Thursday of the month. Nope. Just some regular old limes that have been imbued with the spirit of Mrs. Topechka.

It isn’t a proper recipe if the ghostly presence of a Ukrainian pioneer isn’t involved.

9. Blend that.

What, you allergic to scraping the sides of the mixer? Amateur.

10. Add your coconut milk and keep blending.

This recipe also works for lining the bottom of any small rodent’s cage.

11. Now toss in the flour. Blend it a bit. Scrape those sides. Recite the incantation from the Egyptian book of the dead, and add your baking soda.

Having finally learned the difference between baking soda and baking powder, I can say, without a doubt, baking soda is much better when attempting black magic in order to gain mystical powers so one might defeat the Lich.

12. If your mixture doesn’t start looking fluffy as hell at this point, you may have to add more Griffin’s Blood. Otherwise, spread it into your greased pan.

Yes, now repeat after me. Bears, bears, bears, bears, bears, bears, beeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaars.

13. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. You must not move from in front of the stove, lest the magic be lost. Then, when your copy of the Enchiridion is inserted in the center and comes out clean, you know it is ready.

This is not the oddest recipe I have ever been asked to make.

Now you are free to enjoy it. However, you will have limited time to consume it and have the Cosmic Owl guide you through your dreams, so make sure you only eat it right before bed. After all, it’s only 166 calories per serving. It won’t kill you.

Or will it?

Bored Baking: Episode 2 – Mrs. Topechka’s Round House Kick Tea Loaf ft. DAVID’s TEA

Hidden amongst our cookbook collection is a battered copy of Culinary Treasures: Centennial 1867 – 1967 by the Saint Basil’s Ukrainian Women’s League. One recipe that I’m particularly fond of is the Cranberry Tea loaf, submitted by a Mrs. S. Topechka. I am a huge proponent of cranberries as I believe they are probably the only food that is capable of surviving a nuclear blast given how utterly gross they are in natural form. Therefore, I try to use fresh cranberries in everyday cooking whenever possible so when the time comes my body will be prepared to live off of them.

I mean, today I didn’t have cranberries, or nuts, or even the orange rind which the directions demand I use but Mrs. S. Topechka clearly forgot to include in the list of ingredients. What a beginner’s mistake.

Nonetheless, I decided that there is no better way to celebrate the 30 degree heat (85 for those of you who refuse to conform to the measurements the rest of the world use) than by turning on my oven and making a variant of Mrs. Topechka’s loaf with my own collection of ingredients.

Ready? Okay!

First thing is first. Get rid of that garlic clove or get a garlic holder or something. Honestly. You have no dignity left.

Repeat after me: Your KitchenAid Mixer is not a garlic holder. Your KitchenAid Mixer is not a garlic holder.

Okay. Now you’ve done that, collect all these things, and don’t argue with me.

1 cup sugar

½ tsp. Baking soda

¾ cup cold, strong tea (Today we will be using DAVID’s TEA’s English Rose black tea, because I live dangerously)

1 egg beaten (or two if you forget to read the ingredients properly)

Some apricots. I don’t know. Maybe, like, a cup? It’s about a cup when I’m done with it I guess.

2 tbsp. cooking oil.

1 tsp. salt

2 tsp. baking powder

2 cups flour

Also: One Tome of Spirit World Recipes as presented by the Ukrainian Women’s League.

Take all your dry ingredients and sift them together. If you are like the average person and don’t own a sifter, just toss it into a bowl. We aren’t the Kardashian’s here. Sifters are for the rich and well-to-do.

Or for people who can afford to shop at IKEA.

Boil up some water and throw your tea into a hipster mason jar.

English Rose from DAVID’s TEA, available at the nearest awesome Tea Emporium near you

Add water. In reality you should have already done this, probably even before you started reading this recipe. It’s going to take forever to cool down and believe me, you want it to cool down. Whatever, we’ll make do.

We don’t believe in proper proportions in this household.

Now while you’re waiting for your tea to cool, combine the rest of the wet ingredients together in a separate bowl.

Two eggs are basically just like one giant egg anyways.

Okay, let’s check on that tea. Is it cool yet?

Hotter than a witch’s teat.

Okay, time for Plan B. Grab your dish towel or a cheese cloth if you are a billionaire I guess, and strain out some of that tea.

This is the classiest thing I have done all day.

Now put that in the freezer. We don’t have time to waste.

We… don’t?

While you are being the picture of patience, cut up those apricots. Using scissors is an easy way, unless they bend your scissors which totally didn’t happen here.

There is a certain level of satisfaction found in the destruction of fruit.

Good, you did it without cleaving your hand off. You want a medal or something?

Well, if you’re offering…

Urgh, I’m so bored. Take the tea out, add more ice cubes.

David would be ashamed!

Perfect. It’s cool now!

Cool as a witch’s teat in winter.

If you add it while it is still hot it will cook the eggs and you will have a nasty egg-tea combo, so try to avoid that.

That’s the complicated way of saying “Add the tea to the wet ingredients and mix it all together.”

Now slowly add the wet ingredients to the dry until it is all mixed. Mrs. Topechka suggests you stir it until it is barely mixed.

You aren’t the boss of me, Topechka!

Now add dem apricots. Again, stir it until just mixed.

YOU AREN’T MY SUPERVISOR.

Now spoon the whole monstrosity into an oiled pan and let sit for 20 minutes. Take this time to preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Yes, you could have done this first, but there is no point in having your oven on any longer than it needs to be.

There. It’s done. What do you think?

Once 20 minutes have elapsed, put that tasty-ass loaf into the oven. Notice how Mrs. Topechka’s ghost, shamed by how you used the wrong sized pan, magically transferred your loaf to a better pan? PARANORMAL.

If your local Topechka ghost is not available, summon the services of the nearest husband.

Let it cook for about 50 minutes or until a knife inserted into the middle comes out free of ectoplasm. In this case, 39 minutes was more than enough… Topechka.

Nothing tastes more like summer than a loaf imbued with the ghostly presence of a dead Ukrainian woman.

Now wait for it to cool, cut into pieces, and enjoy! Make sure to leave three candles lit in your window that night so Mrs. Topechka’s ghost can find her way into your kitchen and get a slice for herself. If she doesn’t approve, she will enter your bedroom and devour your soul.

Bored Baking: Episode 1 – Sour Cherry and Lime Face Punch Loaf

One of my favorite memories from my childhood is baking with my dad. Sunday’s were Loaf Days. We’d pull out mom’s Best of Bridge and find a loaf and bake the hell out of it, because why not?

The tradition didn’t continue into my teenage years, but I like to think it helped enamor me to baking. Now, in my unemployed state, with bits of this and that in my cupboard at home, I went on a baking spree that resulted in a ridiculous amount of loaves. Thank goodness for bulk flour and sugar!

Well, I’m still bored, still unemployed, and recently bought myself of my favorite sour cherries to comfort myself. I realized today that the sour cream I usually use for baking was about to go off, so I needed to use it ASAP. Also, Costco was having a sale on limes ($2.99 for a giant bag of ’em. How can a girl refuse?) Lime and cherry is one of my favorite combos, so why wouldn’t I make it into a delicious loaf? More importantly, why wouldn’t I share my recipe with the world while also being just… uncontrollably vile in my commentary?

Get ready for the Bored Baker’s Sour Cherry and Lime Face Punch Loaf!

1. First thing is first. You’re going to want to preheat your over to 375 degrees. The original recipe called for 400, but a quick scan of the comments on the website I snatched it from said that 400 degrees usually resulted in burning.

It will also result in the summoning of Beelzebub and twenty of his dancing minions

2. Okay, good job, Einstein. Now, clean your counters because, let’s face it, you live with two cats and they are probably nasty as hell.

Everything about you disgusts me

3. Brilliant! Now, time to assemble your ingredients. I want you to get the following:

1 1/2 cups All-purpose flour

3/4 cups white sugar

1/2 cup butter

1/2 heaping cup of sour cream

3 eggs

Pinch of Baking Soda

Pinch of Baking Powder

Some sweet-ass sour cherries and their juice

Half a mo’fo lime.

Not pictured: Stupid-ass butter

4. Remove the random garlic clove from the mixer and reevaluate your life choices.

I’m… sorry?

5. Damn skippy. Now cream the hell out of the butter and sugar.

What could go wrong?

6. Oh yeah, if that butter is softened first, it’ll help a lot.

I swear, this has never happened to me before

7. Okay, don’t worry about it. Now add those eggs and get your heaping sour cream.

Cue obligatory fishing out of eggshell

8. What’s that? The sour cream is awfully liquid? I don’t care. Use it.

Nobody puts baby in a corner!

9. Mix the shit out of it. Mix it like you’re Sir Mix-a-Lot and you’ve just been given an order to mix a song that will bring about world peace.

World peace is very liquidy, but that’s okay

10. Now you’ve got that sorted, clean up your shit. What are we – animals?

No, we are not

11. Good. Now you add your flour and start what I presume is a kickass KitchenAid Mixer. If you are a pleb and have to do it by hand, proceed until it is thoroughly mixed.

Oh yeah, just like that

12. Meanwhile, you’re going to take your lime and zest it. If you don’t have a zester, I don’t know why you even bother getting up in the morning. Add that zest to your mixer.

This lime had it coming

13. But wait! What are you going to do with all that delicious lime juice? Let me tell you, you aren’t done ruining that lime’s day yet. Get out a mo’fo saucepan and squeeze the hell out of it.

Oh the humanity!

14. Once you have that lime juice in the pan, you’re going to pop the lid on your sour cherries and add about three tablespoons of sweet, sweet cherry nectar, and three teaspoons of sugar.

And you definitely aren’t going to turn it up to medium high, forget about it on the stove, only to remember it when the house starts smelling like burning sugar

15. While that shit is cooking up nice and tasty, you’re going to take three heaping tablespoons of those delicious cherries, drain the juice (just add it to the saucepan) and then squash the hell out of them.

HA-HA-HA. WHO IS YOUR MASTER?

16. Add those squashed delicacies to your whole mix.

Might want to scrape the sides of that bowl, Emeril

17. If the end result of mixing looks like a crime scene, you’ve probably added too many cherries. That’s cool though. Now add your baking soda and powder. The original recipe calls for a pinch of each, but I add 1/4 of a teaspoon because I am not bound by the conventional chains of society.

Why both? Because I don’t know the difference between the two, and quite frankly I am out of craps to give

18. You’ve mixed it up? Good. Get yourself a pan. I don’t care what size. 9×5? Whatever. Who even cares anymore? Grease that puppy, even if you are using a silicone pan. You aren’t Wonder Woman, after all.

Who indeed?

19. Back to the syrup on the stove. If you need to, add a bit more sugar and let it dissolve. You want some tiny bubbles to be coming from the middle.

Not pictured: Bubbles

20. Fill up that pan with your batter.

Pictured: Batter in pan

21. Now take that syrup, because you’ve probably run out of patience, and dribble half of it over the whole batter mix. Why only half? Because much like you’re life, there is a significant amount of waste here.

22. Take a knife and swirl the shit out of the batter. It’s like those gross overly-sweet cinnamon swirl loaves from Starbucks.

This time you actually are aiming for a ‘violent homicide’ look

23. There. It’s done. What do you think? Wait, no. Not yet. Pop it in the over for about 45 minutes or until a knife thrust wildly into the center of it comes out clean.

In all honesty, make sure there aren’t pockets of juice in the corners, because they will get quite brown very quickly. This particular version of the recipe only ended up needing 30 minutes for whatever reason.

And there you have it. Did it work? I don’t know, maybe. The nice thing about this recipe is that if you aren’t a fan of cherries and lime you can replace it with anything. Apples and cinnamon? You bet. Pumpkin and ginger? Why the hell not? Blood and the tears of your lost youth. Always. It’s a very adaptable recipe, unlike you, you are forever trapped in the soul-crushing monotony of your existence.

Om nom nom.

Bitchin’.