I love good food, but I’m not a food snob. Just because a steak is $49.99 doesn’t mean I’m going to like it any more than a $4.99 steak; I just want it to taste good.
Honestly, if I had to subsist on one item of food at this point, it would probably be the carnitas tacos from Tacos Rapidos at the Columbus flea market. Tacos. From a flea market. Again: Not a food snob.
Do I like fancy pants food? Well, sure. I like all food. But again, and to hammer the point home, it’s not price or presentation that does it for me: It’s simply taste.
But …OK fine. Sometimes it’s price and presentation, and a whole lot of what is fit for human consumption.
In short: The Campbell Soup Company – you know, “Mmm Mmm Good” – has recently launched a new soup. They call it “Beer-n-Cheese with Beef & Bacon Soup.” I’ve come up with my own slogan for this new entry into America’s cupboards: “Mmm Mmm Good Lord Above How Can You Even Call That Soup? Who Buys This, Cracks It Open, Throws It on the Stovetop and Says To Themselves, ‘Yep. This is the Right Decision.’? Mmm Mmm Monstrosity.”
I mean, beer and cheese with beef and bacon? Taken apart, this sounds like a delightful meal. Bacon cheeseburger with an ice cold beer? Delightful. A bacon-wrapped filet mignon washed down with a $100 bottle of Samuel Adams Utopia (and some Cheez Whiz)? Knock yourself out. But mash them all together, throw some potatoes in there and call it soup? It makes me shiver.
America, we’ve reached a culinary bottom with this. “Beer-n-Cheese with Beef & Bacon” is NOT A SOUP. IT’S NOT A SOUP! IT’S A SLUDGE! Dammit. Sorry for hollering. But come on! Come on. Come. On.
Of course, it wouldn’t be fair to you, me, or the demented chefs at Campbell’s to pan this soup without first trying it.
So I went to Walmart to buy me a can. (Walmart seemed like the right choice, no?) I brought it home, cracked it open, and it smelled like smoke-flavored dog food. I know “dog food” is a cliche best left on the chopping board, but for reals, yo: Smelled like dog food.
I poured it out into a pot, turned on the heat, gave it a few stirs. I had the consistency of glop and resembled what I imagine the floor of cheesesteak joint of ill repute looks like at closing.
Sufficiently heated, it was time to taste it.
So I called my 5-year-old son into the kitchen. “I made some soup! Want to try it?” (What? You think I was going eat this?)
“Looks so good,” he said. “Smells so good also.”
He tried it. I was expecting a spit take. Instead …
“Delicious. So good. Just tastes good,” he said. “Did you put potatoes in it? It tastes like cheese. Can I have more?”
This was not how I saw this playing out.
So I decided to try it. My expectations were still low, but really, if the kid liked it so much – and here comes my 4-year-old now, asking for some, also slurping and chewing and whatevering it down – how bad could it be?
Oh god, it was terrible. Really was. I had one spoonful, it tasted like it smelled, and left a taste on my tongue a glass of water was defenseless against. Even the splash of Evan Williams – again, I’m not a snob – barely dented the tongue gloss.
Well, maybe I’m spoiled, right? Maybe the incredible food choices in the modern world has changed my taste buds. Maybe my wife, a superb cook, has made me immune to the charms of high sodium intake.
Or maybe the simple gastronomical offense of putting beer, cheese, bacon and beef in a can and calling it “soup” is just too much for me to bear.
Someone get me a freshly made taco before I faint.
Read Jeff Edelstein every Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He can be reached at jedelstein@trentonian.com, facebook.com/jeffreyedelstein and @jeffedelstein on Twitter.
