I went to a place called Macro for lunch the other day. You can read for yourself their approach to food, but you know the deal – organic, free range, dairy-free, nut-free, pleasure-free food. Now I’m as concerned as the next person at how perfect the vegies in my fridge look after two months, but Macro have just completely gone off the deep end. Here, roughly, is a description of my ham and salad sandwich:
Two slices of multigrain bread: The grain was organic, non-genetically modified grain that had nursery rhymes sung to it by the London Boys’ Choir. The dough for the bread was rolled using a wooden rolling pin made from sustainable plantation forest. The baker was a vegan who waxes weekly.
Ham: The pig was a free-range, grain fed hog who was schooled in the works of Plato, Kant and Nitschke. A daily regime of exfoliation and mud packs ensured the ham was particularly tender. From a young age the pig was schooled in jazz ballet and modern tap, ensuring the ham was especially lean.
Lettuce: Grown without fertilizer and harmful chemicals, the lettuce was delightful. Previous attempts at providing lettuce had failed after they were transported in a refrigerated truck. This time however the lettuce was laid on a bed of shaved arctic ice, tended to by empowered Eskimos from a culturally rich and self sustaining community, and delivered by solar-powered hovercraft.
Tomato: Again, no GM-modified chemical specials here. This tomato was hand-reared in an organic community garden. It attended a Montessori school, where it studied cello under Yo-Yo Ma, before completing a series of Haiku poems about Keynesian economics.
The sandwich sensation: Seriously? One of the dullest, most unexceptional sandwiches I have ever eaten. The food court where I bought it would have been tastier.
Price: $13 hard-earned dollars. And you thought the description of my sandwich was ridiculous.