I don’t really give a hoot about who puts what on their pizza, as long as it’s consensual—wait, that’s another discussion—but I think there’s another aspect. I find there are certain things I don’t like, but where I can easily see how somebody else might. Most rap music (with some notable exceptions) isn’t for me, but I can still appreciate that somebody might be into it—even appreciate its artistry, even if it doesn’t do much for me personally. On the other hand, I can’t really fathom listening to, say, nails scratching on chalkboard for three hours.
So there’s a difference between ‘I don’t like it’ and ‘I don’t see how anyone could like it’, and I think it’s the latter that gets people going. We can’t really imagine what it would be like to like certain things, and so if there are people who do like these things, that triggers almost something like alienation, an inability to see ourselves in their place.
Still doesn’t mean I care (much) what anybody puts on their pizza, but I kinda think I get where this comes from.
It certainly is the case when I make them. I have occasionally made anti-pineapple quips when ordering a pizza whilst swapping the pineapple on the loaded option for something I prefer, and I have even been known to say that pineapple on pizza is an abomination before the Lord. But I also occasionally order a Hawaiian pizza. The quips are just a joke.
Yeah, sometimes it’s banter, and that can be fun. But some people take the gate keeping thing absurdly seriously - I’ve had people demand that I take videos down or change the titles, because I did something unconventional (like trying to make pepperoni out of carrots). I guess it’s the same sort of thing when people say that a modern remake of this or that cartoon ‘ruined their childhood memories’
That’s a fair point, though it raises questions about what constitutes structure. Mashed potatoes are certainly capable of being structural, such as when formed into a cup that holds gravy. But I’d agree that a homogeneous mass of mashed potatoes are not acting that way. A pile of fries can act as the structure for cheese/gravy in the form of poutine, but in a chip butty they’re simply filler. So it’s context dependent.
The thing that seemed odd to me is people saying the problem is just mixing sweet and savory–when pretty much all pizza sauces contain sugar. I would think that the issue had more to do with how strong the taste of pineapple is.
I know that, when I don’t like pineapple in something, it’s because the pineapple flavor, with its tartness and sweetness, overwhelms the dish. In good Hawaiian pizza, though, they don’t use too much, and you can still taste all the ingredients. (And they cook out the bromalain enough that it doesn’t try to tear your mouth apart) You get a slightly sweeter, tangier tomato sauce, some gooey cheese flavor, and the meatiness of the ham.
The taste acutally reminds me of Chinese food, despite most of the ingredients not being what I would normally associate with that cuisine. And that’s another type of food where people don’t seem to mind sweet mixed with savory.
(Apologies if I’m repeating things. Scrolling up is a bit of a pain, as things jump around. I’m going to mention this in SF.)
Thanks! I’ve got a followup tomorrow on the Marmite Dynamite (which contains chilli) - in which I ever so gently explain that the imperfect marbling of flavours, textures and temperatures is actually one of the most joyous things about eating, for me. I am expecting people to comment saying that I am being salty about the butter stuff in the previous video.
Interestingly, the gatekeepers of the term ‘sausage’ have a standard that is peculiar once you take a step back and realise what it is.
They insist that ‘vegan sausage’ or ‘vegetarian sausage’ should be banned, because a sausage must contain meat, often a specific minimum proportion. Standards must be maintained!
Interestingly, there is no standard or concern regarding the species of animal that provides the meat, so:
A turkey sausage is still a sausage, despite having zero ingredients in common with a pork sausage.
A vegetarian sausauge is NOT a sausage, because it has no ingredients in common with a pork sausage.
So it appears the real standard for ‘sausage’ is: ‘as long as some animal had to die’.
I’m not even a vegetarian, but that conclusion disturbs me.
Yeah, it’s very peculiar how people get litigiously upset about vegan mayo, but not about light mayo: upset when something is called ‘plant butter’, but they were never upset about peanut butter…
Hellman’s makes an interesting distinction in their product range:
Real* Mayonnaise
Vegan Mayo
It’s as if they carefully decided not to use the full word ‘mayonnaise’ for the vegan product in order to defuse some of the potential complaint.
*(they called it ‘real’ before the vegan alternative was a thing - it’s more about the purported authenticity of the recipe)
I don’t really care about the name. I think it might be something to care about if they didn’t clearly label it ‘vegan’ - but they won’t do that because it’s a selling point for the product.
The one that really upset people was ‘vegan meatballs’ - this was a can of soy spheroids in a very nice tomato sauce; the meatballs themselves were trying a bit too hard to taste like meat - like a little bit too much yeast extract in them.
People were outraged that a vegan product could have the word ‘meat’ in the name of it - but there are a couple of significant flaws to that kind of thinking:
Products with ‘meat’ in the name, not containing meat, already exist - for example mincemeat (which used to contain actual minced meat a long time ago, but doesn’t any more - so it’s literally a product that went vegan by chance, retaining its ‘meat’ name).
The canned meatball product that the vegan meatballs compete with, contains only 17% meat, which is mechanically-separated chicken. The ‘authentic meat’ product has already lost the high ground.
For the most part, the names of products are indicators of how they can be used - mayo goes in sandwiches; sausages go in toad in the hole (or whatever); meatballs in tomato sauce go with pasta, etc. If vegan mayo had to be called ‘vegan oil emulsion product’ or something (people actually demand that sort of deliberately unappetising title), it divorces the product from its familiar intended purpose.
Vegan meatballs sounds funny, but it’s pretty clear what it is.
Actually, i think i like the mayonnaise/mayo distinction. Use the formal name for the real product, and the nickname for anything that’s used the same way.
The friendly non-mayo name would be something like “sandwich spread”. I think miracle whip (which, I’m surprised to learn, contains eggs) used to call itself a salad dressing.