Becoming the Snacktivist is a lot like becoming the Chosen One that you read/watch/hear so much about. It confers upon you certain mystical abilities and powers far beyond the ken of any mortal soul.
It’s like wielding the power of an Infinity Stone… but for snacking.
For example, the power to be able to (quite literally) stomach the sort of thing that would instantly fell a lesser person, or grant a sort of King Solomon-like wisdom to appreciate something that most would overlook.
Taking on the role of the Snacktivist also grants one the ability to find merit in artificial flavouring, to appreciate, nay even crave, such ersatz contrivances.
Heavy hangs the head that wears the crown, so they say. And it is with this heavy head that I introduce to you this week’s non-foodstuff, the McDonald’s Banana Pie.
Keen observers of the comings and goings of the Big M will know this isn’t the first time this has appeared on the menu. Once upon a time, in a more innocent galaxy far, far away that knew nothing of global pandemics and national lockdowns, McDonald’s served up the Banana Pie with the Nasi Lemak Burger, which I’m sure you’ll agree is one of Ronald’s better creations in recent years.
This time, it’s coming back paired with the McSpicy, the patron saint of spice-induced gastrointestinal distress. Far less special, but you know how our dark lord works in mysterious ways.
So anyway, the McDonald’s Banana Pie. The first thing that your olfactory organs should catch upon breaking through the familiar crust is how extremely bananarey (this is a scientific term, if you don’t believe me, go look it up) it is.
There’s the familiar chemical starburst of artificial banana essence, tempered by natural flavours from the banana chunks. The effect is, to say the least, is mildly disconcerting.
Hang on a second there, Snacktivist. Did you not just say you crave artificial flavours? Banana Pie has got banana essence in it. So what’s the problem, then?
Ah, good question snacking grasshopper. The answer isn’t simple, and is best consumed with the aid of the aforementioned snacking Infinity Stone, and/or some psychoactive substances stronger than caffeine/alcohol.
Right then. I hope your mind is girded, because heeeere we go.
The thing about the Banana Pie is that while it constraints both artificial and natural flavours, there’s a distinct point where one ends and the other begins, which leads to your brain struggling to process it.
Like, you know how a cyborg is supposed to meld both human and robotic bits seamlessly? The idea situation being one where it’s impossible to tell whether the aritifice of nature and man joined up.
The Banana Pie would be the opposite of that, a crudely fashioned homunculus cobbled together from organic and inorganic bits.
All I could think about through mouthfuls of chemical banana sauce and actual banana bits was the mental image of a cybernetically enhanced banana whispering “kill me”.
Obviously, this won’t be the sort of thing that most people would think of, but then again, you are not the Snacktivist. You are not charged with the keys to the kingdom of snacking.
But I gladly bear this burden for you.
You’re welcome.
10-word review: Banana Pie hits the mark, but yet manages to miss it.
Best paired with: A banana republic.
