The Fourth of July is a great holiday. I love summer, and I love pools, and I love a day off to eat things that were cooked on a grill. I would have none of these without democracy, and for that, and obviously the persistent — if not always consistent or equitable — freedom to do as I please, I am grateful.
i don’t want to eat a flag!
The one thing I don’t totally get about Fourth of July is why everyone — while they should be kicking back and having unpleasant political conversations with their uncles — bends over backwards to make complicated patriotic desserts. First of all, they don’t taste any better than regular desserts and 90 percent of the time they actually taste worse. Second, no one cares if their dessert looks like a flag, and it won’t at all once they start eating it. Third, your flavor options are so limited if everything has to be red, white, and blue — did you ever stop to think this whole ritual has been orchestrated by Big Cool Whip, Big Blueberry, Big Strawberry, and Big White Chocolate Wafers That Everyone Hates So Why The Heck Do We Eat Them?
If one were looking for metaphors (which one isn’t, because there’s no WORK today), one could say that an impossible elaborate, decadent, and impossible-to-consume dessert is a metaphor for the country we are celebrating. And so, the Fourth of July dessert is to food what Jerry Bruckheimer film is to cinema.
Here are some examples of desserts I do not want:
Throw all of these things out — or better yet, don’t waste four hours of your holiday making them in the first place.
Of course, I’m not suggesting that you don’t eat dessert. I would really just like the best for you! The only good Fourth of July dessert is a Firecracker popsicle. You can buy them in packs of eight, 18, or 40, depending on how many friends you have. You can enjoy them whether you are sitting in a pool, or hiding inside in the basement because you have become weary in the sun. They require no effort, which is what summer is for.
They are cherry, and then lemon, and then blue raspberry. Delicious.
Arrogantly youthful, heavily branded, and vaguely sexual — this is truly America’s dessert. Happy birthday, big guy.