The Cranberry Conpiracy Pt. 3

Now, this is the point where you can make your own observations. Be the little anthropological scientist and try this little experiment. Watch the cranberry relish, sauce, or whatever is made with cranberries. You'll get a weird relative who will dig in. They'll be one of two people: either the old matronly figure who was alive during the 40s or 50s, or they'll be the weird guy who likes the color. You'll even find a few more people who actually put it on their plate.

Here's where it gets interesting. They won't eat it. It'll be the absolute last thing they eat, if they do. When everyone looks satiated, and ready to burst, throw off a casual comment about how nobody ate the cranberry sauce. Suddenly there will be flurry of activity as everyone realizes that succulently delectable construction still remains. And many with dive in with spoons blazing. And have a bite. And not have another.

A similar event several years ago, in my childhood, made me realize the simple fact, reaffirmed years later when I had a choice between the local water and cranberry juice. People hate the taste of cranberries. The amazing thing to me is how much they've been brainwashed into believing they love them. I used to stock shelves in the juice aisle. There's about a dozen different juice flavors involving cranberry. And all but two have it cut with something else. Cran-grape, cran-apple, the list goes on. Even now the amount of shelf space devoted to cranberry derivatives is mind boggling. The reason, though, is apparent. The cranberry tastes like crap, only not as good.