Today we debut an irregular feature in which the author for the first time experiences something that might be considered typically American.
In a decision I’ve immediately come to regret, I’ve just had my first experience of a Kraft mac and cheese dinner.
I now feel awful, like I’ve taken part in some classified scientific experiment – only without the bonus of my beneficiaries receiving compensation from the government in thirty years time.
This wasn’t food. This was a sad simulacrum of food. The future as perceived by the 1950s.
I’ve got the warm, cheesy sweats, man. It’s a cheese powder-induced fever. I’m also pretty certain I’ll be pooping out something orange later this evening.
p.s. America, mac and cheese – like lasagna or coq-au-vin or the KFC value chicken bucket – should not be considered appropriate as a side dish.
p.p.s. Comments about British cuisine will be heavily moderated.