Even as a kid, I had a discriminating palette. If I bit into a BLT or ham sandwich that was advertised as containing mayonnaise and tasted even a hint of Miracle Whip, I’d spit that shit out and pitch a fit. Listen up, Chef Annoyme: Mayo and Miracle Whip are NOT interchangeable.
Clearly, I was an asshole at nine years old. Not much has changed. Perhaps it was one Miracle Whip bait and switch too many that sent me off on a bologna-and-ketchup binge for all of fourth grade. I was obviously deeply traumatized by Miracle Dip shit.
This sugary spooge is a crime against nature and my taste buds.
I can tell if it’s in potato or egg salad. I can sniff that slop out the way a pig roots out truffles. It's time to kick this "salad dressing" out of the condiment clubhouse. All the execs at Kraft should be forced to enter a Miracle Whip-eating contest. Let’s see just how much you can put down before you suffer a serious reversal of fortune and yack up that pearl jam. Methinks it won't be long…unless there's a miracle.