Outside of trying to maximize my discounts at CVS or assuage my justified guilt for spending money on myself, I'm an adult with little use for percentages. But it was still depressing to do the math and realize that we haven't even made it through 2% of this year. We will have to do this fifty-one more times before we get another chance to start over.
The year is young, malleable even, and every day gives us chances to make choices that can change our path. But, something in the softness of this particular new year rings a bit false. I couldn't articulate what that meant until my favorite Italian slimefluencer posted this compilation.
Softness has always been something I've valued, something that I've always wished to permeate the lives of those I loved. So maybe the challenge is to look for ways to bring it into my own life. Ways to make this year feel more like this puppy accessorized accordingly to be enveloped in the comfort of this novelty ramen bed.
Maybe the absolute comfort is just returning to the things that are guaranteed to give you a bit of joy, which I personally hope includes 2022's first assemblage of unsnackables
Given my constant lamenting that the confectionary legacy of my home state of Minnesota is the deeply flawed Salted Nut Roll, I was happy to discover that the founder of Mars was born in Minnesota and invented the Milky Way there. The Milky Way is the precursor and the base of the Snickers Bar. So I can say that the bitter winters of MN gave the world this Pistachio, Saffron & Almond iteration of the beloved candy bar AND the snack obsession that led to Unsnackable. It must be something in the water.
As a society, it feels like we've gotten too lax with our definition of "charcuterie." Cookies and Candy Bars? Ice Cream Sundae Toppings? Nachos? None of these bear any resemblance to a display of cured meats and cheeses, but maybe I cannot be one to judge because these Goat Cheese and Apple Chutney chips don't either, but they immediately made me think about charcuterie. So I'll make myself a small cheese plate to cope with my hypocrisy and inability to eat these chips. By "make a cheese plate," I mean I will put a little dab of yuzu jam on a slice of cheddar cheese and fold it in half, then place it on a paper towel. I deserve nothing less.
Lately, I've fallen into a duo-chrome makeup obsession, just in time for the weekly small-scale heart attack known as another season of Euphoria. Still, there's part of me that misses devoting my Sunday night to Daddy's #1 Candy Baby, multi-generational power dynamics, my emotional support former aughties it-girl, and having an excuse to tell Nicholas Britell that his score makes me (redacted). The only thing I imagine will assuage that emptiness is watching the series from the beginning again while drinking a beverage that appeared in the finale for three frames.
I've never met an iteration of a laminated cinnamon pastry that didn't make me feel like a person who was capable of unwavering self-regard for at least a few moments. This liqueur made to mimic Hamburg's iconic Franzbrötchen pastry can hopefully bottle that magically buttery promise, ready to be served over ice.
I’m still figuring this out, but hopefully, you enjoyed v.54 of unsnackable.
If you didn’t please don’t tell me, tell your friends to subscribe because they hopefully have better taste than you.
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I’ll try any snack at least once, so don’t be shy if there is something you want to send me to try.
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