If you think “cereal” can be classified as soup, we can’t be friends.
Really. If you see me on the street, just scoot on by. Don’t make eye contact that will lure me into thinking you know where cereal belongs in your kitchen and where soup fits in your life. Don’t say hello.
Cereal is something I throw together without thought. It only requires assembly and the necessary “finesse,” if you can call it that, to get the ratio of milk to cereal right. It’s breakfast food, although it can be any meal in a pinch. It’s true I eat cereal for dinner sometimes when I’m so over cooking I can’t see my way to a pot, or when it’s too cold to go out. I know it’s a great option at any time of day — but that’s an exception and isn’t part of this discussion because using my own behavior as an argument against my position won’t float a flake with me!
Don’t get me started on gazpacho. If you must modify the word “soup” to explain that it is “cold soup,” then it just isn’t “soup.” I hear alligator tastes like chicken and when I refuse to eat mushrooms, someone will tell me they take on the taste of whatever they’re cooked with, so I should like them. I think we need a movement toward honesty. We have to buck up to face hard truths: Alligator isn’t chicken and mushrooms aren’t all the other things.
And while we’re being honest, here’s a fact for you: Only serial killers and psychopaths in denial of reality think cereal is a kind of soup.
Choose your company.
Are we straight with that? Super.
We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today and I don’t want anyone left behind.
Hot dogs are not sandwiches. If you think they are, lose my number.
Combining a carbohydrate delivery vehicle with a protein filling doesn’t mean you’ve made a sandwich. If you put cheese between two crackers, do you call it a sandwich?
Lunchables were a terrible idea predicated on the fallacy that a sandwich is anything you eat with your hands. While I always support shortcuts to meal prep and believe wholeheartedly in the snacky supper, a Lunchable delivers plastic to landfills and doesn’t deliver a sandwich to anyone.
The ease of picking up an edible outer shell doesn’t make your meal a sandwich. This should go without saying, yet I’m compelled to say it anyway because people seem out of control these days: A taco is not a sandwich.
Putting a traditional sandwich filling into a taco shell doesn’t broaden the category or legitimize bad choices. If you’re putting ham, cheese and mayo in your taco shell, someone needs to arrange for a wellness check ASAP.
If you hang out with people who believe it’s OK to call cereal “soup” and think tacos and sandwiches are interchangeable, you’re more likely to agree with them, and science can explain why. Studies show frequent exposure to misinformation makes us believe it, no matter how wild. And our brains like to order people into groups so we can skip hard thought and jump right to knowing what to expect. Our “in-groups” are innovative, smart and on top of everything. Our “out-groups” aren’t very smart and are rarely, if ever, right. They can’t be trusted.
If you find a restaurant with a menu that labels its sandwich section with something cute like “between the bread” or an on-the-nose heading like “sandwiches,” you’re probably in safe hands. If they sneak a taco onto that list, they’re trying to corrupt your thinking with a classic bait and switch. You have one clear path: boycott.
When you protest by walking outside the front door wearing a sandwich board to get your point across, remember it’s a sign, not a sandwich.
It can be hard to talk about anything without stepping on a nerve, and I hope you’re on board with my strong feelings. As dug in as I am around food categories and as much as I can’t tolerate even a smidge of nuance, if I’ve had enough sleep and start my day with a nourishing bowl of Raisin Bran, and if I’m feeling spry, I can admit a wrap falls into a gray area, and I can see how a soft flour tortilla could cause confusion.
Maybe someone with a different point of view could explain the rolled-up food conundrum. I could risk my sense of order and hear a different view on menu organization and food classification. It could be eye-opening if I lead with curiosity. That doesn’t mean I’ll agree or even listen if someone suggests there are people who shouldn’t get to eat the same cereal I eat.
But some conversations are important to have, even if they’re uncomfortable, because there are people who feel unheard and passed by. They’ve been left holding an empty shell and don’t feel like they have a path to getting the meaty stuffing.
So it’s past time we get talking, though I have one caveat. Opening up to new ideas doesn’t mean my big feelings are any smaller.
If you think a lobster roll is a sandwich, please keep that to yourself.
