satire
Food industry and celebrity satire presented by Feast.
Vegetarian Failure
“Eat your beets,” demanded my mother, “or you cannot have dessert.” And so began my lifelong struggle to make peace with, if not love, vegetables. Let me explain here. My entire childhood knowledge of vegetables was that they came from a can. Except for basic salad ingredients ( i.e. lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers), I never met a fresh vegetable as I was growing up, and although frozen vegetables were around at that time ( 1960's), I never saw them in my house either.
Joan GershmanPublished 2 years ago in FeastIT Started With Ice Cream
It started with ice cream. For as many years as I can remember, I would buy three half-gallon boxes of ice cream for my family of 3. A variety of flavors, so each of us could eat what we liked. One-half gallon = 64 oz. I understand that three half gallons is a lot of ice cream, but my family far exceeded the average U.S. yearly ice cream consumption of 5 ½ gallons per person. I didn’t say I was proud of it; I’m just giving you the facts.
Joan GershmanPublished 2 years ago in FeastFuture Black Slime in Refrigerator Crisper Purchased at Local Grocery
Future black slime in refrigerator crisper, currently known as green onions, were purchased at a local grocery today by neighborhood resident Ted Stephens. “I’m making Pad Thai for my girlfriend for dinner tonight and need the green onions for a garnish and to give a little color to the dish” he said when asked about his decision to purchase the future pile of oozing black mush at the bottom of his refrigerator vegetable crisper. Despite a very poor track record of using any green vegetable purchased for any meal Mr. Stephens suggested this time would be differing saying “look, I know I don’t exactly have a reputation as the biggest vegetable fan, and I have, on occasion, left a head of broccoli or lettuce in the crisper for over a month, throwing them away only when the smell from the slowly putrefying sludge like black mass became too much to bear. But, this time is going to be different. I swear. Besides, onions aren’t really a vegetable. Right? Are they a fruit then? You know I don’t actually know.”
Everyday JunglistPublished 2 years ago in Feast- Top Story - October 2021
an open letter to the coffee I left on the counter
I am truly, deeply sorry for leaving you like that. I would understand if you could never forgive me. I abandoned you… half empty, but so full of promises. As I am realizing the error of my ways, it feels only right to speak my peace. To mend what can be healed of this heartbreak. For surely, it is mutual.
Samantha ElizabethPublished 3 years ago in Feast 10 Things To Do With Bread
Are you tired of buying bread at full price just so it can take up cabinet space and spoil a few days later? Are you not craving a grilled cheese or turkey sandwich every other meal? If you answered with an exhausted “yes...” then this may very well be the breaking news you’ve been waiting for. Here are the top 10 things to do with bread so you can feel better about not eating an entire loaf in one sitting.
Angela RosePublished 3 years ago in FeastWhat do famous fruit and vegetables want to tell us?
Vegetables first: Mr Cucumber, please. What is the most important thing you would like to communicate to people? WE ARE NOT VEGETABLES! We are proud to belong to the gourd family. We grow from flowers and contain seeds; therefore, botanically I am a fruit!
Lubow Dabrowska-SzpakowiczPublished 3 years ago in FeastIt's a (COVID) Date
“It’s tonight! It’s tonight! It’s tonight!” exclaimed Mackenzie, excitedly, as she hit her alarm button waking her up and danced in her bed excitedly.
Clarissa WilsonPublished 3 years ago in FeastDo Not Eat This Book
Dearest reader, Please forgive my forwardness. It has been a long and difficult recovery, one in which I almost did not endure. My bones are weak. My muscles tight from atrophy. Every nerve ending surging with endless sparks of painful energy. And I have no one to blame but myself. Except, maybe Aubrey.
Game Day Buffet, the rise of champions amongst snacks
When the buffet is another game day endzone The fall begins the playoffs in any sports kitchen across America. When the gastronomical fortitude of any couch and armchair player's prowess is tested against an array of sturdy disposable plates and hardy handy wipes. The lean summer gut is again replenished with barley suds and an assortment of fat-laden and sugar-loaded gourmet delights. A seasonal appreciation of regional delicacies that begin to encompass the cultural diaspora of ethnicities that encompass an American past time, a Sunday football spread.
Daniel LestrudPublished 3 years ago in FeastKentucky Fried Cash
The notebook rattled around the trunk of my 2006 Subaru Impreza, sliding to the back, getting wedged in between the spare waterproof floormats I would never use. A real gem of a Craigslist find, the car came in the nick of time. I had just depleted the last of my meager savings, had no backup plan, no prospects. My position as a substitute teacher in an early learning program was halted with no return time in sight. The pandemic had swiftly taken hold of my life and livelihood, and I was left, mouth gaping, wondering how I did not plan for a hundred year pandemic more thoroughly. My car payment was too high, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me when it was hauled away by the usually dreaded repo man. To me, he was a saint to take this burden off my back.
Lisa StewartPublished 3 years ago in FeastAppendectomy
“This is much more civilized than a meeting room, don’t you think?” he says. No, I don’t, actually. I would much prefer the safety of a poorly ventilated room that has a defined escape route; namely, the end of the meeting. But because I’m having lunch with a member of the executive leadership team, I do what you should always do when answering a question from someone with his own car park.
Guy SigleyPublished 3 years ago in FeastThe Refrigerator
The light suddenly came on, and Heinz stood proud and tall, hoping to be noticed, hoping to be the one chosen for the mission, whatever it was. A hand reached in and grabbed a soda, quickly retreating and turning the world dark once again. French’s smirked, “Why do you always think you will be the chosen one, you’re nothing but catsup.” “CATSUP?” I’ll have you know…” Mr. Hunt interrupted, “Excuse me, but I spell my name with a K if you’d bother to read my label, it’s ketchup.” “I don’t care how you spell it,” piped in Lea, “can we return to the subject at hand? We need to ascertain our primary course of engagement in the pursuit of the communal objective.” “Yeah, and we also need to figure out what do next,” added Perrins.
Darryl BrooksPublished 3 years ago in Feast