Farmers Wife, November 1, 1923. I reckon this is the same class of doctors who were shilling for cigarettes in the ’40s and ’50s. Not the very same doctors, mind, because they would have been dead by then from eating mince pie.
“Take apples, for instance. Are they heavy?”
Apples are heavy! That was proved by Sir Isaac Fonzarelli! Apples are totally heavy and they start with AYYYYYYYY!
“And cider? That’s just more apples.”
The fourth physician was too drunk to comment. He was found passed out, holding an empty bottle of potatoes.
“The spices? They add piquancy.”
Thousands of people died from getting an insufficient amount of piquancy in their diets. Eat your spices or you’ll go bland!
Good thing times have changed. As Leonard Nimoy might talk-sing, “Take heart amid the deepening gloom that your dog is finally getting enough piquancy.”
But I do miss the days when the field of advertising psychology consisted mainly of “Maybe it’ll get people’s attention if we make the coupon slanty.”
Also, what’s that mysterious panhandle sticking out of the southwest corner of the coupon? Is it just to keep us from adding a third line of copy in our best stencil-styled hand lettering? I was all set to write in “SMELLS LIKE DEATH” but they put that white rectangle there so now I guess it’s impossible to mock None Such.
Lack of spices make you go bland? I thought it was too much mastication.
Yep, erasing that mysterious space-filling white box revealed exactly the right amount of space for this:
That might have to go on a t-shirt.
Get thee to Cafe Press, y’all! Mamma wants a NoneSuch tee-shirt. Because store-bought mince smells like death.
NoneSuch in a glass bottle is still available on the grocer’s shelf, so watch for that Cease-and-Desist letter.
Get outta town! Is it beefy? I gotta get me some!
Most supermarkets have it. It’s available in a couple flavors (plain and booze-flavored), but it’s just fruit, no meat or suet. It hasn’t changed at all during my lifetime (cue Mr. Show: “It’s the only mincemeat still available in old-fashioned breakable glass jars!”) In fact, it’s the only commercial mincemeat product I have seen during my entire life.
Your local market probably has it in the “Baking Needs” aisle right next to the Eagle condensed milk.
I’ve never seen the boxed concentrate, but at least in the northeastern US, everyone seems to sell the glass jars. Or, at least, they try to sell them. It’s like that one box of Pel-Freez Quartered Frozen Rabbit that’s always covered with a thick druse of hoarfrost. The market feels they have to have a dead bunny in the freezer to ward off evil spirits, even though there is no conceivable Venn diagram notch for “people who like rabbit meat” intersecting “people who are willing to eat things that have been in the back of a supermarket freezer since Watergate.” When you spot those jars of mincemeat at your local market, be sure to rotate them 180 degrees so that the other half of the contents can also become light-faded over the years.
Actually, I stand corrected re my comments on None Such — the ingredients do list trace amounts of beef, possibly for its homeopathic qualities. The condensed version’s ingredient list:
Raisins, Brown Sugar, Dried Apples, Dextrose, Water, Salt, Beef, Corn Starch, Dried Citrus Peel, Apple Concentrate, Spices, Distilled Vinegar.
“Beef” is after “Salt”, suggesting there’s probably nary a steak in a carload. Perhaps they just put in a little smudge of meat because they want to keep Hindus from buying it. Or maybe it used to be made with beef back in the 1890s but they haven’t cleaned the machinery since then.
If you go to the part of the world where “flavor” has a “u”, you might be able to get Cross & Blackwell mincemeat instead. While there, pick up some of Cross & Blackwell’s Branston Pickle just in case Yahtzee ever visits you.
I’m fascinated by those products that seem to stand outside of market forces. Who’s buying the pop-top cans of sauerkraut juice and in what quantities? How many Postum drinkers are there left on earth? I should think that if two of them meet while reaching for the same jar, a geriatric friendship would be born.
I love Branston Pickle. Could do with a Ploughman’s Lunch right now.
The few remaining Postum drinkers were crying into their dirt water when Kraft discontinued Postum forever, a few months ago.
You know Kibo’s Law: Anything has some fans, but the fewer who love it, the more obsessive they have to be about it to compensate. I formulated that law moments after meeting fans of the second season of “seaQuest DSV”.
Seems like a pretty sound law.
Your local CostPlus World Market should have the C&B mincemeat, too, next to an ungodly expensive can of Heinz Baked )Beans, some Salad Cream (why? and enormous bottles of Branston Pickle, which we buy to make cheese and pickle sandwiches for my sweetheart, who acquired a taste for them while doing a university exchange in Glasgow.
The Vermont Country Store does a great line in over-priced antique foodstuffs–Horlicks tablets, second-string candies like Mary Janes and Cow Tails, and the delicately-renamed chocolate babies.
I yearn for the pickled crabapples that used to live on the top shelf of the canned vegetable aisle, next to the bottled asparagus.
Yeah, Salad Cream–what’s up with that? I can understand the sense of importing canned Spotted Dick, but Salad Cream?
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