You know the story about that nice family of bears whose home is invaded, robbed and vandalized by some pre-teen female hoodlum? I have a vague feeling of how that poor Ursine family must have felt when they discovered their food missing.
Indeed, we all must identify with the bears these days. There is a huge Goldilocks in our midst, and she’s been nibbling away at everything! We’ve all seen the candy bars get smaller while the price gets higher. And that space-reducing dome at the bottom of most plastic containers gets bigger and bigger. Consumers purchase ever-increasing amounts of air these days.
This is brought home to me full force every time I open a container of raisins.
I swear these are untouched photos of the last container of raisins I opened immediately after opening them. Not a raisin has been disturbed, let alone eaten.
At least not by me. I can’t be sure about any lurking Goldilocks types along the way. If they do so lurk, they seem to be nibbling a very consistent amount every time.
“Some settling may occur during shipping.”
Actually, that particular warning isn’t on my raisins. I am warned about the possibility of a grape stem. Or wood. (Wood? A bit of trellis, perhaps. Just adds to the fiber content.)
Air is not listed as an ingredient.
I should, perhaps, point out that I’m not really ranting. This is tongue in cheek driven by the sight of so much air in the raisin container. (It was one of those, “This is a blog post!” moments.)
I love raisins; they are my favorite fruit (with grapes a close second). [I beg forgiveness for what I’m about to say.] They are, in fact, the only fruit I go bananas over. (I like bananas a lot, too, and they go great with raisins.)
[Remind me to tell you the “raisin fritter” pancake story some time. It’s another one of the early camping stories (like “blast damage” and “killin’ stick”) that became legend.]
I understand the whole cost equation thing and the seasonal difficulties with produce, so I’m not seriously complaining. It’s really pretty astonishing I can have tasty raisins year round; modern society has its benefits. But one does need to point these things out from time to time. If you don’t, you end up with naked emperors parading around, and considering their general diet and lack of exercise, no one wants to see that.
Inserting tongue even deeper into cheek (alas, only mine own), I found it very amusing when I pulled my container of ginger cookies out of the shopping bag yesterday, and it looked like Goldilocks must have been hiding in my back seat.
Of course, in the store they looked like the photo on the right. Usually they pack them in the container half this size. They must have been out of those containers.
Still, pretty funny. “Hey, where’s the other half of my cookies??”
That was some serious settling during shipping!
And here again, no serious rant intended. I’m addicted to these cookies, and the only rant I have is that I (almost, sort of, in a way) wish they didn’t make them. I can’t resist a good ginger cookie, and these are way up the scale. Cookie like fresh ginger-bread? Check. Good substantial ice frosting? Check. Made fresh in the grocery store bakery every Monday? Sold!
And because they’re apparently hand-made (for some store-bought definition of “hand-made”), they’re a little different every time (which I love). Sometimes there’s not much cookie, but a ton of frosting. This time (as you can maybe tell), the frosting isn’t thick (cookie visible beneath). Unfortunately these cookies weren’t very large, so they really rattled around inside that giant container.
But you have to love the individual nature of the whole thing. Variety and surprise make life so much more interesting.