Sugar

Dear Raw Sugar Cube: I hate you.

Anyone who holds a fork, chopsticks, or injera has opinions on food, but for those of us lucky enough to eat at restaurants almost daily, violently strong opinions form on which foods/restaurants/trends we applaud, and those we’d send to a culinary firing squad—if only such a handy thing existed. So for the newest installment of Things I Hate, here is something else I would like to see given the line item veto from Planet Earth: The raw sugar cube.

Though most of you wouldn’t expect a 240 pound former offensive tackle who can bench his weight to have strong opinions on sugar cubes, you would be wrong. I’ve always had a fascination with small efficient objects, and this explains my preference of cars, houses, espresso cups, spouses, and uniformly symmetrical and warm-liquid soluble white sugar cubes. There’s just so something elegant in watching a tidy cube of white sugar disappear into a deftly pulled shot of ristretto-style, crema-capped espresso or other hot beverage.

I feel exactly the opposite about the white sugar cube’s dirty hippie cousin—the raw sugar cube. Not only do these rock-hard pebbles not arrive in a uniformly similar size to ensure necessary day-after-day consistency, raw sugar cubes are harder than the spoils of your grandmother’s candy dish. They wouldn’t dissolve in molten lava, and therefore should not be allowed near coffee, tea, warm beverages, children, or family life in general. I would endure the agony of a kidney stone to see these disappear from the Earth forever.

R to the I to the P