Just Say, No to Baby Carrots!

Come on. Who could have a problem with baby carrots?

Me. I could. And I do. And you should, too.
 
Yes, there are much bigger problems in our world. Am I going to solve any of those for you? Not likely. But here is something I can effect. And it has broader-reaching implications than you might imagine.
 
I admit that I initially got sucked into the dizzying hype of baby-carrot right along with the rest of the nation. So small! So easy to manage! So convenient for crudité when guests are coming! (I’ve learned there’s much less of need for crudité here in the deep south, where they take their veggies battered, deep-fried and bathed in cheese products.)
 
Here’s what started me down the anti-baby carrot rabbit hole. (Carrot. Rabbit. Feel free to enjoy that juxtaposition.) When considering snack options, I look for something with crunch. Crunch equals satisfaction. Carrots are great for that. You get crunch and a hint of sweet without any cloying tastes. You even get the feeling that you’re being relatively healthy. Win, win, win!
 
But I wasn’t winning. I was finding that when snacking on these thumb-sized orange cylinders, I wasn’t getting much flavor. All I was tasting was cold. Cold is not a flavor. It’s merely a sensation.
 
Why had I not focused on this before? No answer. For my own edification, I tried snacking on regular, big-girl sized organic carrots. The kind you might have seen Bugs Bunny eat. (Look it up.)
 
Surprise! The adult, organic carrots are packed with real carrot flavor. You know why? Because they’re carrots. Actual carrots in their original form. Carrots as nature intended them.
 
So, what the hell ARE baby carrots? It’s not like two carrots got together, and after a rom-com worthy courtship that included coming from different backgrounds and initially hating each other, then getting married, then months later throwing a baby shower with a gender reveal (still an acceptable trope in the carrot world), then gave birth to a bouncing baby carrot.
 
That would be a true baby carrot. A carrot with legs. I bet that baby carrot would taste sweet and tender and delicate and delicious. You could probably even eat the bones. But these are not baby carrots at all, which would be carrots that have not yet reached maturity. No, these “baby carrots” are adult carrots living a lie.
I imagine some veggie workshop somewhere with full-sized carrots spinning on a lathe, being whittled down like table legs into the smaller, more appealing baby shape.
 
So-called baby carrots are not like baby corn. Oh, no. Baby corn is actual corn that’s just been harvested before full maturity. According to Google (my favorite lazy-girl resource), the technical name for these imposters is “baby-cut” carrots. They are “pieces from larger carrots that have been machine-cut into the preferred size, then peeled, polished, and sometimes washed in small amounts of chlorine before packing.” 
 
For now, let’s put aside the endless opportunities for hilarious new jokes about “polishing one’s carrot.”
 
Are we so inept that we’re incapable of cutting a carrot ourselves? Have we become that averse to being up close and personal with the true coloring and texture of a vegetable? Does it make us cringe to think of our food coming from the soil? “So dirty!”
 
You know what’s truly cringe-worthy? What happens to “baby carrots” inside the bag. Taylor Ann Spencer of Delish has written an informative article called, “8 Reasons Why You Should Never Eat Baby Carrots.” (So, I’m not alone here.) Ready? “These carrots are now entirely composed of cut sides, they’re more prone to drying out and developing carrot blush, a thin white film that forms due to dehydration. Or, even worse, they can get slimy inside the bag, even before it’s opened.”
 
A two-word phrase we can live without: Bag slime.
 
Baby carrots waste energy, feed unrealistic beauty standards (beauty standards aren’t just for forehead wrinkles anymore), and are often treated with chlorine water. Oh, and that other thing: They don’t taste like carrots!!!
 
The madness has to stop. It’s time we take back the carrot in all its glorious individual shapes, colors and sizes. Short, long, wide, thin, orange, yellow. And who knows. If we can find a way to embrace and celebrate carrots for their uniqueness, maybe someday we can do it for all of us?
 
Too far? Is this that broader-reaching implication I spoke of earlier? I say, see the carrot. Embrace the carrot. Be the carrot.
 
Tell me I’m wrong. But know, I’m prepared to fight.