The more I dig around, the more "artisan" tortillas, wraps and flatbreads I find. This seems to be the product category with the highest offense rate. I thought I was done writing about shitty unleavened breads -- Hey, I wonder if there is artisan matzoh yet...that could really be lucrative -- but anyway, here is one that cannot be ignored: Foldit Artisan Flatbread.
First, the product: This is essentially two flat pitas that sat too close together on the tray and morphed into a Siamese bread product. You put junk on one half, fold it, and suddenly you have a sandwich twice as big as the one you would have had by folding a single flatbread - but with only exactly the same amount of work. Genius! And let's get real - you only have two minutes of commercials to get that sandwich made before the Kardashians come on again. You cannot be expected to lift a second piece of bread all the way off the counter to cover the first one.
Next, we have to look at some of the copy: "For max taste, just Foldit!" This makes me want to burn a random ad agency to the ground. Really. And while we're dissecting it, if I fold it, am I not the artisan here? I don't think YOU origami your bread.
Lastly, I need to paste in a few of the more than 25 ingredients:MALTITOL, SODIUM ACID PYROPHOSPHATE, WHEAT PROTEIN ISOLATE, FUMARIC ACID, PRESERVATIVES (POTASSIUM SORBATE, SODIUM PROPIONATE), CELLULOSE GUM, GUAR GUM, CALCIUM SULFATE, XANTHAN GUM, SALT, L-CYSTEINE, CALCIUM PEROXIDE, ENZYMES.
While that is literally a mouthful, I must direct your attention to one in particular: L-Cysteine. This is a dough conditioner made out of, wait for it...
wait for it...
This isn't bread...it is Artisan Soylent Green.
Friday, October 28, 2011
OK, to be fair, the marketing geniuses at Neiman Marcus did not attempt to classify the actual Oreo cookies as artisan. But to charge $50 for 15 Oreo cookies, they had to put the word in there, somewhere. ...So they are "artisan-decorated."
Can I just repeat? F-I-F-T-Y D-O-L-L-A-R-S. For one sleeve of Oreos. I am in the wrong damn business.
Did you get a good look at these things? What exactly is artisan about sticking three cashews on the top? Are the nuts arranged in a feng shui manner that will bring happiness to the digestive corner of your stomach? Because really, to the untrained eye, it looks like some mommy blogger just had "Culinary Day" instead of her normal homeschooling. (Apologies to my mommy blogging, homeschooling friends.)
I suppose "artisan-decorated" is not as egregious as an outright co-opting of the artisan food label. But I feel it bears saying on last time. FIFTY DOLLARS! And they didn't even use artisan fucking sprinkles. FML.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
I remember when we first met. I was on my sofa, you were on Top Chef, and you had me at "monkey ass in an empty clam shell." Lordy! Those days were magical.
But time has passed, and now, well, it feels like I don't even know you anymore. Domino's Artisan Pizza? DOMINO'S ARTISAN PIZZA???!!!
Domino's? Well, I can understand them. They've always been ass hats. The douche who owns them funnels profits into Operation Rescue, and using "artisan" is a pretty much an autobahn to more profits. But Fabio, you should realize that when you combine pizza and politics, you get shitty pizza. ...look at Herman Cain! Though, to be fair, if it got him votes, I think that dude might even top a pizza with fetus. Just my impression. And that shit would be hardcore artisan.
Oh, Fabio - look what you made me do, you made me digress!
You know what else you made me do? You made me rend my clothes and sit shiva. Yes, Fabio - my former love, my cheeky little monkey -- with this Domino's Artisan Pizza move, you are dead to me. May you be buried in a coffin that's a little too small so that some of your guts stick to the lid when it is opened.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Holy crap! My manufactured outrage has made it to the Huffington Post. I am like the Keith Olbermann of processed foods. And like our dear Mr. Olbermann, I had a meltdown that necessitated a little time off.
...Okay, not really I just got busy with the farm and not a little lazy about writing. But I am back--and I brought salad dressing!
Artisan Vinaigrette, to be exact.
I firmly place salad dressing of any sort, but especially vinaigrettes, into the category of, "any a-hole can make that." In fact, dressings reside next to soup in that filing system. A vinaigrette is just a little oil, a little acid and, if you feel like it, a little emulsifier - like mustard -whisked together in a haphazard way. In fact, someone once asked me for a recipe for my Greek lemon vinaigrette and I just stared at them incredulously before finally saying, "It's dressing. It doesn't have a recipe."
This particular vinaigrette looks like it is just crappy Caesar salad dressing with the anchovies and Parmesan chucked right into the blender. Crafty! But as any home-dressing knockabout knows, a true, homemade dressing will eventually separate into its component parts again. So these "artisans" put in a little to xanthan gum to keep it all thick and spoogy. Xanthan gum!
I would like to see the artisan vinaigrette makers in a cage match with the artisan lettuce folk. Naturally, they would fight to the death while we all chanted, "Two men enter, one man leaves!" When it was all over, the loser would have a shitty salad placed on his grave.
If the match was valiantly fought, we might even throw in a few artisan croutons.