"Resealbale Bag Inside"
Since I grew up in the ’50′s, we as a nation have progressed from cardboard boxes and wax paper to hi-tech plastics and ziplock bags. All of us except the food packaging industry, that is.
Now, I love raisins. Yep, I have always loved raisins since I was a kid. And I usually buy Sun-Maid, because that’s what my mom bought, 60 years ago. I’m a transplant from New England, new to California in 1950, but I’m a loyal transplant.
Needless to say, when I saw that Sun-Maid now packages our excellent California Raisins in a new, improved Resealable Bag”, I had to put a box in the old shopping cart.
And, when I opened the box for my after-dinner raisin snacks, here is what I found:
Here you go, "resealable"
In other words, in case anyone else is as dense as I was, what you get to make your space-age bag “resealable” is the piece of yellow tape with the instructions:
- To open: pull apart bag at top
- To close: fold bag in toward tab and reseal
In case it looks to you like I just cut off the bag top with a pair of scissors, that’s exactly what I did. The new bags are NOT wax paper, they are a super-tough non-tearable plastic; in fact, they are the same plastic used to protect your Krispy Crackers, but without protecting them from crumbling into cracker meal. This kind of plastic is fabricated to protect the contents from the purchaser.
Not even Charles Atlas nor Mr. T could pull the walls of the raisin bag apart by hand. The heat-sealed crimp closure is designed to withstand nuclear attack. If an endorphine rush gave you the super-strength to open one of these bags, you’d be cleaning an explosion of sun-dried Natural California Raisins out from under the couch, washer and dryer for the next several months and beyond.
While I’m no longer exactly in the prime of my strength, I shudder to think what an 85-year-old granny would do. Actually, I know exactly what she’d do: she’d go straight for the scissors.
By now you are probably wondering why they would make these things this way. And of course you knew I was going to tell you why they do. That’s so the marketing and packaging jerks who sit at the long, polished zebra-wood conference table can boast: “THEIR product is just dumped into conventional packaging and loses its freshness. OUR product is resealable.”
Resealable, my ass. I am still waiting for the yellow plastic tape to fall off.