You’re Not Infusing Your Vinegar And We’re All Judging You For It

It could not be easier to infuse your vinegar. You pour some vinegar in a jar, toss in whatever, like strawberries or rosemary, then seal it and leave it in a cool, dark place for about two weeks. Voilà, just like that. And yet you still haven’t done it. You’re not infusing your vinegar and we’re all judging you for it.

Haven’t you’ve noticed how the second you walk into a room you feel a chill of inferiority, like everyone around you is certain they have the upper hand? It’s because we’re all enhancing our vinegar with infusions of thyme and hints of boysenberry. We’re infusing white wine vinegar with rosebuds and orange peels. We know our vinaigrettes are more flavorful than yours because their infusion game is on point. Meanwhile, yours is floundering, gasping for air. You can shrug it off like it doesn’t even matter. But believe me, it matters.

Basic Vinegar Bitch

I used to be a Basic Vinegar Bitch just like you, and it was the worst three years of my adult life. All the friends I’d invite over from book club would grit their teeth and smile when they told me my salads were delicious. Lies, of course, but I didn’t know better. I thought my store-bought vinegars were fine on their own. Then I heard the whispers, the rumors, about how my vinegars were subpar; even lazy. That they were lacking that flavorful punch you get only when lemon and tarragon have been hand-placed into a bottle of mild acid. Then I noticed the dirty looks. Bottles of vinegar filled with urine appeared on my doorstep. I was puzzled at first, but soon I understood the subtle message my peers were attempting to send: My vinegars tasted like piss. One lady spit on me.

You have to maintain appearances in this world. Brushing your teeth and combing your hair used to be the bare minimum. But times change and standards rise. Now, a person without a pantry filled with homemade infused vinegars has the same social standing as a verified sexual predator.

Keep Your Pantry Stocked!

I have to ask, are you not infusing your vinegar out of blissful ignorance, or is it outright defiance in the face of common sense and dynamically-flavored marinades?

Ignorance is no excuse but it is forgivable. Outright defiance, on the other hand, is a declaration of war against your own standing in modern human social constructs. You’re saying to the world that you don’t need handcrafted hot pepper vinegar and blueberry balsamic because you’re a hoity-toity son of a bitch who buys their raspberry-infused vinegar at Whole Foods while the rest of us rubes are putting in the hard work to make it our damn selves. And no, they don’t taste the same. Don’t spit on my romaine and tell me it’s a fennel and blood orange balsamic.

You better drop this childish act of anti-infusion rebellion right now because I’m telling you, from my own experience, if you don’t get with the vinegar-infusing program you’ll be just another outcast living under an overpass on the fringes of society with the rest of the perverts.

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