beet soup transubstantiation and the waterslide multiverse

unsnackable vol. 60



Jul 04 2022

6 mins read


Welcome to unsnackable. This free newsletter is a small tantrum about international snacks, beverages and fast food that I want but cannot have with occasional diatribes about other snacks that I can’t get off my mind.

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One of the weirdest milestones of adulthood is when you realize that you have begun accumulating "last" experiences more often than new ones. It is an unsettling feeling that can punt you into an emotional tailspin.

Disorienting as that may be, it takes a minute to grasp that there are equal opportunities for it to be a transition marked by a descent into stasis or a period of understanding, re-evaluating, and asserting your boundaries. 

It can be hard to tell which path you're traveling when you're distracted by nostalgia. I'm a millennial who spends too much time online, so avoiding that is nearly impossible. Never for anything meaningful, but for odd things that I had no reason to miss. The other day I got a bit misty when I realized I'd probably never go to a waterpark again. 

I guess that's not bad because we have shifted into an era of ongoing and overlapping international health threats created by a capitalism-driven disregard for our planet, which amplifies that an indoor/outdoor semi-chlorinated petri dish is a bit gross. But, I am a good midwestern girl, and the Wisconsin Dells raised me. Blank Check posited that there is no greater luxury than an indoor waterslide. I still agree. 

Still, I know my boundaries, and flying horrifies me right now, as does the realization that rooms at the resort centered in my emotionally regressive waterpark fantasies hover around $400 per night. A more accessible salve is diving into the rich world of waterpark compilations

and pondering the aesthetic but not experiential merits of this slide-wheel multi-slide monstrosity

Most importantly, knowing myself enough to acknowledge my simmering obsession with this Korean cafe and the small lazy river built into their bar serves a similar purpose.

But part of that could be caused by this beautiful corn pudding. Maybe it could solve all of my problems.

None of my coping strategies are singular anymore because nothing about the state of the world lends itself to absolutes. I've felt plenty of despair that *seemed* absolute lately, and I've also absolutely tried anything and everything to keep it from overtaking me. 

The combination of waterslide compilations and a hyperspecific design-oriented cafe is an unexpected reprieve from my yearning for the sun-soaked chlorinated summers of my childhood. Facing the structural dismantling of our rights requires a novel combination of acknowledging that nothing is unexpected and accepting the responsibility of reinforcing existing care frameworks while taking every opportunity to reduce harm and imbue our lives with joy.

‎‎‎‎Like the *ahem* unexpected return of this newsletter to your inbox, we're not celebrating the horrors of a dying empire, but we can delight in a shiny new assortment of unsnackables

‎th‎e unsnackables



I have always had trouble defining my love language. Maybe I just lacked the vocabulary because "quality time" and "acts of service" pique my interest much less than "the type of love that inspires someone to create and monetize an edible likeness with one of the largest confectionary companies in the world." The late German restauranteur and author Gerd Käfer collaborated with Haribo to create these ginger-flavored wine gum candies in the shape of his beloved pug, Sir Henry. It is an ideal expression of affection.




A crude analog for transubstantiation is required to create a chip in a food's image effectively. I am mesmerized and fearful of a process that can generate a chip based on a fuschia-colored cold soup but hungry at the thought of the flavors of beet, dill, kefir, and cucumber coming together in a single crispy bite.



The recent flop era overtures toward innovation by American mass-market beverage brands have left me disillusioned as a hyper-informed and motivated consumer. I can't keep seeking out new and "limited edition" products only to discover that they are tied to poorly structured social media giveaways or are only available at regional retailers. The work/reward calculus doesn't work in my favor when so many drinks are also mediocre. Coke's Starlight flavor was one of those disappointments, clocking in with a taste I could only describe as regular Coke with a delayed mid-palate sensation of Buttered Popcorn Jelly Belly. I have been forced to reconsider how much I disliked that flavor of Coke after discovering a review that compares it to this Malaysian salted plum drink that I also need to try. I've never met a form of salted plum that I didn't like.


SHIGUDERI (Mongolia)

I'm not disparaging summer. I'm generally at my pinnacle of beauty, and my wardrobe feels more manageable when I only have to choose between miniskirts with black crop tops or interchangeable printed sundresses. These pictures of a man preparing lamb steaks with ghee on heated rocks on a snowy hillside with the company of his beautiful dog and a bottle of milk vodka are arguing that I could be having a great time if it was winter.

I’m still figuring this out, but hopefully, you enjoyed v.60 of unsnackable.

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