Here’s the backstory –
“Oh, incredibly awesome husband and cost-conscious grocery shopper extraordinaire, can you pick up some salt on your way home. The flaky salt?”
“Sure, no problem.”
I may have slightly exaggerated or built upon my wife’s request – for the story, of course – but I did agree to pick up some salt.
On my way home I popped into my local grocery store and found the salt. Rows and rows of salt. That’s when I took a moment for self-reflection and arrived at the conclusion that it’s OK to be confused by the insane variety of salt available for purchase. This confusion must be one of the top achievements of modernity, paling only in comparison to the variety of artisanal waters available for purchase, two aisles away.
I found the flaky salt, I think, but I quickly found myself reading the salt propaganda labels and imagining the best ways to incorporate the pink, black, grey, white, and weird brown salt crystals in food. Don’t think of this as some sort of gustatory exercise in tastebud romancing. Instead, imagine a grown man standing in front of three rows of sprinkles imagining which color, size, and texture sprinkles will work best on cupcakes made from a box.
This is the curious allure of artisanal salts.