I stan

I got a couple of common responses to my recent subscriber outreach:

1) "Your lifestyle is alarming, I am far too grossed out/afraid of food poisoning for that." (One respondent detailed a traumatic trip to the ER several years back.)

2) "I love your laissez-faire approach to grocery shopping, it is relatable (or at least aspirational.)"

The first type of response made me feel sniffy at first, but I decided it means I'm bold and daring — certainly not reckless and gross. Sure I look death in the eye each day, but it's worth it if I can eat lobster bisque for lunch! Only cowards disagree.

The second type of response made me feel like I've hit on a group of fellow travelers, people who can see the very specific appeal of a daily, low-stakes treasure hunt for food. In fact, besides some disagreements over Polar's worst flavor, the vibe of virtually all my reader mail has been ever-so-pleasant.

This is nice! You're all nice! (except for jeff orlick) In an icky world where "don't read the comments" is the best form of writer self-protection, The Haul's readership stands out for being earnest and kind.

In keeping with that vibe, let me pay it forward on two food newsletters I quite enjoy:

-Haterade, written by Kansas City food critic Liz Cook, is a consistent delight. It's a bit hard to describe, so I'll say "a fun, lively exploration of weird food, both abstract/theoretical and practical." Start with this issue, about Depression Tater Tots, and see what you think. Also: It's free!

-Snack Stack, written by Doug Mack, one of my favorite Counter contributors and a proud resident of the Upper Midwest. I'll excerpt from his About page, as it gives you a good idea of what's in store:

Each email focuses on one specific snack, celebrating it on its own terms but also considering it as a lens into larger and more complicated stories like cultures intersecting (bunny chow in South Africa, patties in Jamaica, dorayaki in Japan), sociological studies of teenagers (an interview with a groundbreaking researcher who examined illicit snack sales in high schools), moral panics (the alcoholic soda Chelsea, Pop Rocks, goldfish-swallowing), or decades-old mysteries I’m pretty sure I solved (six-foot-long sandwiches, string cheese, seven-layer dip).

Much of Snack Stack's content is for paid subscribers, but considering how much effort Doug puts into researching and writing each edition, I think it's well worth a few duckets.

*

Okay, I'm getting sleepy so that's a wrap. I intend to use our feedbag of chile in a Cincinnati specialty this week — will let you know how it turns out!

Until then.

xo,

Jesse

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This is weird coffee for sure (GTFO "positive energy"), but mostly I'm mad because one time I bought a big bottle of Super Coffee that was sweetened with something artificial and cloying. I hate waste so I choked down the whole bottle, but each glass made me resent this company more.

^LOL. But whatever I'll drink bro-brew if the price is right, and this unsweetened variety is adequate. Abby thinks it tastes funny because it contains nutritional supplements but I think this coffee just reminds her of the guys at her Crossfit gym.

Tender Year is such a sinister brand name for a company that sells cow liver. Wow, looks like that is the only product they sell! Would love to have witnessed the scene back when they were workshopping different names. Please note this liver is both pre-sliced (for the consumer on the go) and "extra fancy."

I've made it a point of pride not to buy wacky things just to impress Haul readers — every purchase is something we can use, or at least that I'm personally curious to try. That said, if this Caesar dressing didn't come in a photogenic bottle the size and shape of a Margarita mixer, I may have been less inclined to grab it off the shelf. I do it for the fans!

Abby spied a "dessert pizza" recipe on the back of a long-ago Haul purchase — it suggested you make a pizza crust out of cornflake crumbs, then top it with fruit and whipped cream. As a pizza, that seemed weird, an unholy mashup a la "dessert hummus." But if you just called it a tart, this would seem like a pretty normal bakery treat.

I'd give the same marketing advice to the makers of this admittedly tasty breakfast pizza. It was hard to wrap my head around the product as a pizza but really it was just sausage and eggs, biscuits and gravy. The taste was anodyne and familiar, once I reimagined what I was consuming.