Unadulterated Triscuits

Do you mind if I let off some steam? I wanted to buy a box of Triscuits. Not cracked pepper and olive oil, not dill, sea salt, and olive oil, not fire roasted tomato and olive oil, not garden herb or rye with caraway seeds. I didn’t want Triscuits made with brown rice, baked with red bean, or seasoned with sweet potato and roasted sweet onion. I just wanted a box of plain, ordinary Triscuits, and I couldn’t locate them in the midst of all the gourmet options.

I’ve had similar experiences in the cereal aisle, faced with sixteen flavors of Cheerios, including Cinnamon-Almond, Banana Nut, and Ancient Grain (how old do we want our cereal to be?). Special K offers fourteen different flavors, while Rick Krispies now come in multi-grain shapes. How can that be? I thought the snap, crackle and pop cereal was a single grain of toasted rice. How does that multiply?

I could alternate my deodorant scents for a month while contributing my hard-earned bucks to the 18 billion dollar industry. I, however, prefer my familiar powder fresh Lady Speed Stick, while my husband experiments with a variety of flavors. I’m bringing home some Black Chill or Dark Temptations, Danger Zone or After Hours for him to test out soon. I may even order custom scented deodorant, such as Banana Coconut Cream Vegan Vegetable Deodorant. I’ll wait until November to send for a Pumpkin Crunch Cake sample, with the aroma of pumpkin pie filling, cake, pecans and spices. Are you eating dessert or covering up body odor?

One more whine. Back in the day, we only worried that Mr. Whipple might catch us squeezing the Charmin. Now I have to decide between ultra soft, ultra strong, quilted, angel fresh, and basic in the toilet paper aisle. At least I haven’t seen any advertising printed on the sheets in my local restroom, a new marketing opportunity billed as “effective, affordable advertising that’s changing the way people do their business.” TMI!

And my point? First, I want my unadulterated Triscuits, topped with a slice of marble cheese, accompanied by a Pepsi with no added flavors. And when I can’t find the Triscuits on the shelf of the grocery store, I do get salty (sorry). But beyond my Triscuit addiction, the infinite varieties of Triscuits and toothpaste, cereal and deodorant serve as symbols of our increasingly complex society that gets bound up in massive marketing ploys, spending millions of dollars to convince us to purchase ketchup-flavored potato chips. Don’t they know it’s much more fun to dip a plain chip in the condiment of the week?

How many choices are too many? Who gets paid to dream these up? How much bigger can our supermarkets get? Why aren’t we satisfied with two flavors? One of the best parenting lessons is on introducing choice. Here’s a blue freezer pop and a red one. Which one do you want? “Purple.”  

One of the ironies of the flavor-of-the-month products is that not all of them work out as well as expected. I’ve been involved in food pantry operations for more than thirty years, and while I am grateful for hundreds of corporate donations to regional food banks, I don’t think my low income friends like sandwich cookies with candy-corn filling any more than I do. Pass the traditional Oreos and milk, thank you very much.

While the lovely Madelyn Simone and I were at the amazing Bicentennial Parade on July 4, she was thrilled to gather the candy generously distributed along the parade route. But as we quickly discovered, the mystery-flavored Dum Dum suckers weren’t appealing to our taste buds. We’d suggest that Dum-Dums, an Ohio invention originally made by the Akron Candy Company, stick with cherry, orange and grape. Pizza and buttered-popcorn flavored lollipops are nasty, at least according to my favorite five-year-old.

To clear up any misconceptions, I am glad people wear deodorant, but prefer coconut cream and pumpkin in pie, not underarms. I appreciate food bank donations, soft and strong TP, free candy, crunchy Triscuits and single-stuffed Oreos with chilled milk. You enjoy more sophisticated flavors? Good for you. Just don’t ask me to try bacon gumballs.