Artisanal ... Not
It seems that trends in foods come and go pretty fast. Just saw a commercial for Duncan Donuts "Artisanal" Bagels.
Artisanal? Right. We can just imagine a marketing meeting where the boss says, "How in the hell are we gonna sell that crap?" And an up and coming junior marketing executive exclaims, "Let's call them 'Artisanal.'" Cooky Cat caught the very fly from that wall and ate it. That evening he dreamed the foregoing scenario. So you know it's for shizlle my culinarizlle.
Seems "Artisanal" is in. So in that, with us, it's out. So "in" that a very bland below the middle of the road product can be upmarketed just by tagging on the word. Or, some earnest aesthete in a trendy Brooklyn neighborhood (or, London), cooking jam and charging $10 for it. But, you say, the jar is a Wech and the label is just so CUTE! You say Wech, we say Wack. Eh! Or, yet another pizza guy with a starter from the Middle Ages, an exclusive contract to get Giuseppe Italiano's hand ground Tuscan valley heirloom organic wheat, and Mozzarella from albino water buffaloes whose udders are hand massaged every evening by lovely Itralian virgins to the music of that other Giuseppe, Verdi. Don't let us even get started on the kind of olive oil a place like that might be touting. Even Rachel Ray's "EVOO" is starting to sound comforting.
TAKE THIS PLEDGE: Repeat after me . . . I will never eat or purchase or patronize anything or place that has "Artisanal" attached to it.
If you need some motivation, given that "Artisanal" is all that and you probably want to be seen as cutting edge and all that yourself, here's something to conjure in your mind's eye whenever you hear "artisanal" mentioned. A line of specialty cheeses made in Williamsberg, Brooklyn with the breast milk of new Hasidic mothers. Hip AND Kosher.
Here's the on to clinch the deal: Cooky Cat's fresh juicy hair ball. Now that's artisanal!
Sorry for the gross outs. Tough love. You gotta be cruel to be kind.