I am clearly not competent enough to handle the supermarket.
You have all read my sad tale of the low-carb pasta. Well, the Unsuspecting Shopper was thwarted again. I wanted to get a nice dessert for dinner last night, since my partner is traveling for work for several days starting today, and I expect it is going to be a frustrating project. So I'm looking looking looking for something that is tasty and fun but not so enormous that even I cannot polish it off on my own.
So I found a nice cake. Really, nice in all respects: petite size, layer-cake, chocolate buttercreme frosting, little icing flower wingdings on the top.
Except when I got home it turns out it is sugar-free.
Sugar-free? It is a CAKE, for god's sake. Just after I realized this, and was cussing in my kitchen, my father called, and he got to hear my rant.
Rule 1. People not eating sugar should either not eat cake or else make it themselves.
Rule 2. Pasta is made of carbs. If you don't want carbs, eat something else.
Rule 3. Other people's trips to the store should not be laden with landmines of bizarro food, marketing strategies to tap into everybody's insecurities.
My father was very patient, laughed at my bitter tale of deceit, and then gave me the best advice anyone could have: Have a glass of wine.
I did, and upon further, calm reflection realized that of course the unspoken rule here is
Rule 4. I should learn to read the damned labels.
Because sure enough, "Sugar-Free" was written right there on the label, in nice frilly seemingly-made-of-icing pink lettering, and should have been OBVIOUS.
Consider yourself warned, Friends. It is a jungle in there. Highly refrigerated, pasteurized, and likely laden with preservatives, but a jungle nonetheless.