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Jersh, doesn't america have a couple of different types of blue cheese?Americans do not have access to real cheese
Pasta-niggers have never recovered from us fixing pizza into something edible.Jersh, doesn't america have a couple of different types of blue cheese?
Maytag is one of them, never ate ot because we italians have a superior product in the form of gorgonzola, but I guess it counts.
Despite that, fuck cheddar, the 3/4 types of actual american cheese will never make up for cheddar's very own existence.
Also fuck macaroni: that is a bastard cut of pasta that isn't sold in italy.
You may be able to find on the internet pictures of italian pasta labelled "macaroni" or "maccheroni", but it's either the wrong shape (more usually sedani lisci or tortiglioni) or the smooth, C shaped abomination that you won't find on the shelves.
We can absolutely judge, just as we judge our fellow Americans who live like adult children and never grow past sweet drank and $1 McDonald's borgars.Mutts just can't really judge what good bread and cheese is since they never tried.
Even euro goy slop is miles ahead of American goy slop.
Niggas have a piece of yellow plastic and call that American cheese.
Most of their bread in the grocery store don't even have yeast.
We stopped grinding up organ meat and stuffing it into pie crust out of desperation not to starve.66 Pages of American Cheese, my God.
Right, quite apart from Null's yelling—which is all correct—why can't I get a decent pie when I'm in the former colonies? You cunts call pizzas pies, which is spacker central. Pies have lids. Can't get a decent meat and potato for love nor money over there.
Generally speaking, New York is remarkable because it has everything. There you can find the representatives of any nation, secure any dish, any object from an embroidered Ukrainian shirt to a Chinese stick with a bone handle in the shape of a hand, which is used for back-scratching, from Russian caviare and vodka to Chilean soup and Italian macaroni. There are no delicacies in the world that New York cannot offer. But for all of it one must pay in dollars. And we want to talk about the preponderant majority of Americans who can pay only cents and for whom exist Childs, cafeterias, and automats. When describing the latter establishments, we can boldly declare that this is how the average American is fed. Under this concept of the average American is presupposed a man who has a decent job and a decent salary and who from the point of view of capitalism is an example of the healthy prospering American, happy and optimistic, who receives all the blessings of life at a comparatively low price.
The splendid organization of the restaurant business seems to confirm that. Model cleanliness, good quality of produce, an extensive choice of dishes, a minimum of time lost in dining. All that is so. But here is the trouble. All this beautifully prepared food is quite tasteless—colourless in taste. It is not injurious to the stomach. It is most likely even of benefit to it. But it does not present man with any delights, any gustatory satisfaction. When you select in the closets of the automat or on the counter of the cafeteria an attractive piece of roast, and then eat it at your table, having shoved your hat under your chair, you feel like a buyer of shoes which proved to be more handsome than substantial. Americans are used to it. They eat fast, without wasting a single extra minute at the table. They do not eat; they fill up on food, just as an automobile is filled with petrol. The French gourmet who can sit four hours at a dinner, chewing each piece of meat in exultation, washing it down with wine and then smacking every mouthful of coffee with cognac—he is, of course, no model man. But the cold American eater, bereft of the natural human desire to get some satisfaction out of food, evokes amazement.
For a long time we could not understand why American dishes, so appetizing in appearance, are so unappealing in taste. At first we thought the Americans simply do not know how to cook. But then we learned that that alone is not the point: the crux of the matter is in the organization itself, in the very essence of the American economic system. Americans eat a blindingly white but utterly tasteless bread, frozen meat, salty butter, unripe tomatoes, and canned goods.
How does it happen that the richest country in the world, a country of grain growers and cattle raisers, of gold and remarkable industry, a country which has sufficient resources to create a paradise, cannot give the people tasty bread, fresh meat, real butter, and ripe tomatoes?
Near New York we saw waste places overgrown with weeds, forsaken plots of earth. No one sowed grain there, no one raised cattle there. We saw there neither setting hens with chicks nor truck gardens.
"You see," we were told, "it simply would not pay. We cannot compete here with the monopolists from the West."
Somewhere in Chicago, in the slaughter-houses, they kill cattle and transport the meat throughout the country in frozen form. From somewhere in California they ship frozen chickens, and green tomatoes which are supposed to ripen in transit. And no one dares to challenge the mighty monopolists to a fight.