That’s a terrible idea

 

We need to start this piece off with a story. It almost certainly won’t make a lot of sense placement-wise as we begin, but we’re going to come back to it. Don’t read too deeply into it for some direct meaning. Simply consider the surface thought.

Nonni was the cook for the family. And not the cook on this day or that. Not the cook for a few years. Nonni was the cook for generations. In fact, the following was brought to me by Nonni’s great granddaughter.

She came to the United States as part of a move involving her parents and grandparents. They lived together for years after the move in an apartment. Along with her mother and grandmother, Nonni cooked in the kitchen. And after she was married and had moved out of the apartment, she began a Sunday tradition of weekly meals at Nonni’s house. A family tradition. Every week.

More than thirty years ago, the story was related to me. At that time, Nonni was still the cook for Sunday dinners. By then, Nonni was also a great great grandmother, and two of those great great grandchildren were old enough to cook with her from time to time. This basically means that Nonni connected eight generations of family cooking, and my friend was an in-person participant when five generations were in the kitchen at the same time.

A few years later, Nonni passed away. The family decided to collect her recipes, make a book out of them, and print copies for everyone in the family. While all have been treasured, the recipe everyone wanted was her sauce.

They all tried to make the sauce. And I do mean everyone tried. The results were good. Great, actually. But unanimously, every time it was agreed that something was missing and the next week someone else made an attempt. None succeeded.

It was discussed. Often. Conversations comparing one person’s experiences in the kitchen with Nonni against those of another. What order did ingredients go into pans? Which knives and cutting boards did she use? Did anyone notice her changing the settings for burners? There had to be something, even a little thing, that all of them were missing. And then…

A great great grandchild ended the debating. Mind you, she didn’t end it with a resolution. She merely presented something that caused everyone to realize they likely would never get to a perfect recreation. The great great granddaughter’s question: “Didn’t Nonni smoke in the kitchen?”

And while the child was noticing the only thing in the kitchen that she saw happening before that wasn’t happening now, the rest of the family at first moved it to perhaps a bit of smokey infusion, perhaps a few cigarette ashes, that may have been brought to the sauce but never managed to get listed on the recipe card. Eventually, regardless of whether it actually was the cigarettes or not, they understood there was a chance that they would never achieve perfection in the sauce itself. The perfection was the memory, and of having the joy of being in the kitchen with Nonni at all.

Again, we’ll come back to this.

Every so often, I believe we all think of something we’d like where others would react, at best, with skepticism. More accurately, they would react with a confused look that suggested they had absolutely no idea what we wanted.

For me, one of those things would be the Doritos flavor sour cream and onion. Amazing. It was, for me, the best flavor of Doritos, and it’s not even remotely close.

On the surface, calling for such a product to be brought back isn’t a bad thing. In fact, I’d like to think it’s a good thing. But I am also aware that there are people that would not just tell me it’s a terrible idea, they would also do so with facts.

See, I’m asking Frito-Lay to bring back a tremendous product, and they have the information to tell me why they shouldn’t. Perhaps the sales weren’t as good as I would think. (And my promising to purchase a bag or two each year isn’t enticing enough to change their minds.) Maybe they know about issues with ingredient supplies, such as cost or availability problems.

The reality is that I don’t know why they stopped making them, but: (1) they did stop, and, (2) there was a reason (or reasons). And whether or not I promise to annually wave a $20 bill in their direction, those reasons appear to be good enough not to place the flavor back into the regular lineup.

Frito-Lay would prefer I try some other options from their fine family of snack items.

(Here’s comes the twist.)

And that’s probably for the best.

Planter’s began offering cheese balls several decades ago. Specifically, Planter’s Cheez Balls. They weren’t the very best cheese balls. But they were good. Very good. And they had this complementary buttery-like taste that no other brand offered. In short, if you were in the mood for Planter’s cheese balls, you had to have Planter’s Cheez Balls.

They discontinued the product. And many people, like me, were sad.

Then they brought it back. And many people, like me, were sad.

We were sad because what they brought back was not the same product we remembered. The taste profile was all wrong. Something was missing.

And this is where Nonni returns. (Not because I think anyone was smoking while the cheese balls were being made. I warned you about overthinking it. Just the basics.)

Is Planter’s using different equipment? Are the ingredients sourced from different suppliers? Were some ingredients swapped out with what are supposedly equivalent options, but aren’t exactly the same? Are they making them in a plant that exists in a different location, perhaps a different elevation, than the previous production plants?

I don’t know the answers to these questions. But I do know that the cheese balls are different. Very different. And if they brought back sour cream and onion Doritos, I can’t be sure that they’d be bringing back Sour Cream & Onion Doritos.

(Full disclosure: they have at times brought back the Doritos. Limited releases, and I’ve never been able to find them. But I’m a sucker for nostalgia, so I’ll keep looking. Still… Nonni’s Law remains a scary possibility. Anyway…)

The major issue here is simple: some things are terrible ideas. But only by finding out details we may not be considering can the full truth be realized. Just keep in mind…

The reasons you don’t see everyone jumping off the garage while holding an umbrella may be far more significant than people not knowing where they put their umbrella. In some cases, it may be tremendous to go looking for your umbrella. In other cases, you might be better off with the memory.

 

If you have any comments or questions, please e-mail me at Bob@inmybackpack.com