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Welcome back to my hater column of the week. Just kidding, but not really.
Let me just say right off the bat that I am proud of any and all people who are cooking at home and using their kitchens to actually make food. I do not want to discourage you. You are great. Keep doing you. Practice makes perfect, and eventually you will perfect that cauliflower crust pizza. I believe in you, fam.
But to the people that open up a bag of salad mix, throw some ranch on it, and then snapchat it with “master chef” or “homemade salad!” as the caption? You can go jump right off a cliff. That is not cooking. You are not a chef. You are not a skilled culinary master. You opened a bottle of Hidden Valley and dumped it onto some romaine. Congratulations on perfecting something that my cat could do with proper training.
You also need to stop putting the word “homemade” in front of all food that you make like its some kind of huge accomplishment. A “homemade” salad. WOW, do you want your own cooking show? A “homemade” cheese board? WOW, sign me up for your food blog emails. It needs to stop.
I, myself, LOVE a good cheese board. But throwing some wheat thins, grapes, and sliced kraft cheese onto a cutting board does not make you Gordon Ramsay. Stop posting these to social media. Stop it. You are insulting the cheese and therefore you are insulting me. And also probably my queen, the Barefoot Contessa, Ina Garten.
Don’t even get me started on this new “acai bowl” trend that is taking over. You literally made a smoothie, dumped it into a bowl, and sprinkled it with fresh fruit and some sort of weird seed. I get it, they’re pretty and make everyone think you are healthy and fit even though you regularly rip heaters and down Fireball on the weekends.
The worst offender? It isn’t a salad or a cheese board. It’s avocado toast. Two ingredient avocado toast. You took some bread, toasted it, and placed a sliced avocado on top of it. Wow, you are an Iron Chef. I can’t wait to read your cookbook.
I know, “Shit On Toast” has taken over the brunch world. Post pictures of all the fancy ass toast you eat at restaurants on the weekends. But when you make “homemade toast” please celebrate that magnificent accomplishment on your own.
Can we also talk about the #wifeymaterial epidemic? I just searched this on Instagram and I am actually offended at some of the crap that I saw. Chicken with corn and beans. Two of these three things came in a can. I applaud you for trying, but keep the #wifeymaterial pics to food that you actually had to consult a recipe to make. Your corn and beans look like prison food.
Your homemade food all looks okay, and I am sure it tastes amazing and you tried kinda hard and the can opener hurt your hands. Just please stop bragging about it. Post a pic of a perfectly cooked black pepper crusted filet mignon with red wine sauce and a side of mashed potatoes you didn’t microwave and you can brag all you want, Bobby Flay. But until then, make your homemade toast and your homemade salad and just fucking eat it..
As a premier player hater I’m definitely on board for the weekly Kayla roast
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Yes.
#NoFilter #IActuallyUsedAFilterButIMadeThisAndItWasGood
Proud of you.
That settles it, I’m getting pizza after work.
I’m usually too hungry and fat to instagram my food before I scarf it down.
Wait, just… sliced avocado on toast? Mush that shit up and toss some sea salt, parmesan cheese, and cholula on there. What is this, breakfast amateur hour?
Fiery, I like it. Sup?
If I see one more homemade acai bowl on insta…it’s almost pathetic because we KNOW you took way too long to “artfully” arrange the chia seeds and almonds on top. Just fucking eat it and get out of my face.
Well my life has been a lie. I’ll show myself out.
Where do perfectly grilled steaks fall? I feel like I need to show off my work of art.
“Post a pic of a perfectly cooked black pepper crusted filet mignon with red wine sauce and a side of mashed potatoes you didn’t microwave and you can brag all you want.”
Filet mignon is a steak cut… Do the math.
Oh, Happy, to think our two similar comments were posted mere seconds apart, mine being sent to the interwebs from a server located in TX, yours from wherever Homeless people get WiFi.
That would be Austin.
Someone didn’t read the last paragraph.
I’ll take a lap, I got about three quarters of the way through the column then someone decided to ask me a question in a meeting
Pretty sure chicken can also come in a can. Source: piece of shit college roommate who only ate things in cans and hot pockets. God only knows how he weighed 140 but inside was a chunkster.
Canned chicken makes it easy to prepare chicken salad, buffalo chicken dip, and other sides. Pretty handy.
He ate it straight out of the can. He went full homeless, you never go full homeless.