Apparently these crumbly balls of joylessness are all the rage in the hipper echelons of New York City. Well, they’re welcome to them. For one thing, they look like baked goose shit (the kale crisps, not the NYC hipsters). Google image ‘goose shit’ if you don’t believe me. And then ponder what your life has become such that you’re searching for images of goose shit at the behest of a blog named ‘Average Food Blog’ that, quite literally, doesn’t appear among Google’s top searches when you type in ‘average food blog’. Or maybe it does now. I haven’t checked in a while; I’ve been too busy looking at goose shit.
Anyway. Kale crisps. In fairness to the aforementioned comestible, I wasn’t, upon purchasing a bag from a retail outlet that shall remain nameless (except to say that it begins with a ‘P’ and ends with a ‘ret A Manger’), entirely able to get at the essence of the Thing-In-Itself, to acquaint myself with the haeccity, the kaleness, of the entity. The reason for this was that the purveyors of the said crisps saw fit to totally douse them in powdered onion. Granted, I’m not sure whether ‘douse’ can be in strict propriety said of a powder, but ‘sprinkle’ doesn’t quite do justice to the extent to which the powdered onion permeated the being of crisps. No – they were fully empowdered. And that was quite simply not what I’d signed up for. I wanted a kale-icious gustatory experience that would transport me to Williamsburg, stick me in a pair of wide-rimmed glasses and give me one of them t-shirts with a picture of a wolf on it. I didn’t want sodding onion powder. Call me old fashioned, but if I wanted onion flavoured crisps I’d have bought them.
So to clear things up after what, at 11:30pm and needing a wee wee, has been a trying experience for me, let alone you, dear reader: they look like goose shit and taste like powdered onion. WHAT’S NOT TO LIKE?! #amirite
NB this blog post has just been an excuse to use the words ‘goose shit’ and ‘comestible’.