I recently watched a video by Claire Saffitz, a baker and recipe developer, where she attempted (I would say successfully) to make an Uncrustable from scratch.
There’s a moment around the 2:00 mark, she bites into one (probably for the first time in decades) and a smile spreads across her face. The uncrustable, as it often does with my children and basically every other person who eats one, has charmed her. Despite being oft maligned (huh, I wonder why that is…anywho) there is a certain joy and practicality to the PB&J and the Uncrustable.
The Frozen Uncrustable
I’m in the midst of examining how I deal with food and I was kinda surprised when I looked at the nutrition label for an Uncrustable. The macros are actually very similar to an energy bar, but with stuff you’ve already got in your pantry and much cheaper. (I didn’t really think about how close they were until I started writing this article, but take a look at the nutrition label for a Clif bar, for example, and the only serious difference is there’s more protein in the Clif bar.)
The balance of carbs and fats is actually pretty solid, giving you enough carbs for a quick shot of energy, without so much that it’d make you crash, while having a good amount of slow-releasing fats that’ll give you more energy right as the carbs run out. Mildly calorie dense for constantly energy starved kids but not overly so (a concern with childhood obesity).
Uncrustables being pre-made and frozen take it a step further, being that an Uncrustable will perfectly thawed—without being soggy or spoiled—in almost the exact time between packing a lunch in the morning and taking it out for lunch, ready to feed a horde of hangry children at soccer practice with minimal effort and a cost that’s really not all that much more than just making them yourself.
Also, they’re just delicious. They just make you happy to eat. This might seem like a minor point but it’s really not. Food is important, food accessibility is important, and putting something in a kids lunchbox that’ll make them smile is a worthwhile cause in and of itself.
Honestly, the PB&J is a classic for a reason, and the Uncrustable is genius…but…
…why the hate?
Despite its genius, for some reason you’ll find people turning their noses up at Uncrustables. Part of the issue is a growing trend to point at particular ingredient that have become more common (e.g. seed oils, refined flour, refined sugar, “highly-processed” foods, food preservatives, etc.) that seem to coincide with the rise in obesity or perceived dip in overall societal health and conflate the two. Here’s a example of all the reasons an Uncrustable is “bad for you” and why “Uncrustables are not a healthy option and should be avoided”. But what happens if these “highly processed” foods are your best options?
That’s not to mention all of the malice on social media for picking “convenience foods”, even calling into question your ability or fitness as a parent.
Where does this come from? Frankly, for both of them there’s a mixture of classism and ableism (they’re intertwined) that is really pervasive in our culture, all linked together to this morality attached to “laziness”.
If you examine the concept of “laziness” for any real length of time, and how it’s practically applied, it really falls apart. If you consider groups that are stereotyped as “lazy” and it’s not just an outright falsehood, you can always, and I mean always find confounding factors.
There’s an idea that feels well known but seems very seldom talked about: the idea that-at least in our society-money, time, and energy are interchangeable “currencies”. When you have a lot of money, you can exchange it for time and energy in the form of “convenience”, a “luxury” afforded to those who “earned” it.
There’s a point here I really want to emphasize: poor people and disabled people are often seen as “lazy”, and therefore reaching for any form of perceived “convenience” is seen as proof. Beyond just “convenience”, these people—who are perceived as “lazy”—are seen as not “deserving” of joy, or the simple comfort of eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
There’s a problem here: when you have very little money, you’re often also very low on time and energy as you try to exchange it for enough money to survive. Disabled people inherently have less energy, and often are required by society to spend more energy as well as time and money to get to the same place as able-bodied people. These are linked intrinsically.
When your community has less money, stores with healthier options are much less likely to be available. Whole Foods don’t show up in neighborhoods that don’t have enough money to shop at Whole Foods, after all. Often times, these “highly processed” options are also the cheapest way to get calories and the extra energy you need to make up for the lack of money—might you see where this can create a cycle of food insecurity and limited choices.
When you’re poor or disabled—or disadvantaged in any number of other ways—anyone not in that group is constantly searching for a reason to blame you for that status. Because if it’s not exclusively your fault, then who else could it be?…but maybe that line of thought is just a little too uncomfortable. And we all deserve comfort…
Right?
