Not just meat, but tushenka, a stewed, canned Russian delicacy, that like many packaged goods, originated as a military ration. I was mostly drawn in by the red and green color scheme, which is strangely un-Christmas-y in this context, instead landing somewhere between soothing and post-apocalyptic.
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It’s been over a month now since Pokémon Go finally revealed the hidden network of acquirable pocket monsters lurking around the nooks and crannies of our cities, parks and coastlines. In that vein, it’s worth remembering that the search for snacks is a bit similar in spirit, especially when the result leads to a miniature bag of Irish crisps emblazoned with a snaggletoothed, cherry-red gremlin. Sourced from the somewhat inexplicable UK-themed section of a local Key Food, these chips are indeed monstrous, blasted with a bracing pickled flavor that makes plain old salt and vinegar seem mild by comparison. This falls in line with the apparent British propensity for strongly flavored snacks, a taste which has spawned everything from Prawn Cocktail to Ham & Mustard and Marmite flavors. Indulging in a bit of speculation, I’d like to imagine these as the modern equivalent to the pickled onions that sat astride the voluminous Ploughman’s Lunch, or the raw onions often put out for snacking alongside a pint of lager at an old-fashioned pub. I also love this packaging, which confirms that for an outsider, this snack has it all: a bizarrely decorated bag, small enough for the intense contents to not out-stay their welcome, with a possibly interesting back-story. The Irish may feel differently, however, as a comment on this well-informed ranking of Irish crisps doesn’t even mention Meanies, with a commenter actually referring to them as a “poor man’s Monster Munch.” Munch may be the original, on the market since the mid '70s, with a similar stable of strong flavors (Smoky Bacon, Roast Beef, and Saucy Cheese & Onion, in addition to the aforementioned Pickled Onion). I still vastly prefer this packaging, with its genuinely ghastly hellion (somehow even surlier than this similar Mega Meanies spokesdemon) displayed on a field of green, to the goofy, faux-Muppet mascot of Munch. As for the taste comparison, only time will tell, and I’ll certainly be on the lookout for Munch in the future, even if it may be awhile before I have my next Pickled Onion Crisps craving.
The Burmese Harp (Kon Ichikawa, 1956)
The guts in question here refer to shiokara, a fermented suspension of salted sea life - commonly squid, skipjack tuna, sea urchin et al - mixed with malted rice, and sometimes kombu, to complete the marine melange. I've never had the stuff, which is favored as both an ingredient, a standalone dish and a companion for sake, but it's reasonable to assume, as this character believes, that it bears some similarity to Burmese shrimp paste (Ngapi), also the salty end product of a process designed to stretch every possible use from traditional seaside staples. This is a film concerned with exploring cross-cultural parallels between a collapsing empire and the country it briefly lorded over, and so the exchange of goods here, between Japanese POWs and a small-scale Burmese merchant-woman, is interesting on both a literal and a symbolic level. Stripped of their arms, freedom and pride, the deprived dregs of the Imperial Army are forced to consider the things which connect them and the people of this foreign land, right down to the use of salted fish guts as a flavoring and a meal base, proving that they may not be so different after all. |
The coded language of snacks, sandwiches and seasonings, in NYC and beyond.
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