Every cafe in this god damn city serves raw balls, even the teeny-tiny little independent hole-in-the-wall places that won't spring for real baked goods but will serve completely crap prefab croissants that come in bulk plastic wrapped boxes and are so pumped full of additives they will still be here for the eighth coming of Jesus. How can raw balls, food items named after an extremely unpleasant waxing accident, trump actual baked goods and become the food fare of choice for small businesses and vast coffee chains alike? I ask of you, internet, have you EVER met ANYONE who eats raw balls? I don't mean that one time you tried a raw ball because you were presented with a choice between it and a decades old croissant made of polycarbons. The enduring, nay, growing! rawball market is not being propped up by single, ill-advised test purchases. I am talking about a friend, relative, colleague or enemy who actively consumes raw balls on a regular basis and seeks them out as a snack of choice. Who are these people? Why are these people?
I can see how Sweden was easily seduced by the look of a few raw balls. This is a country enraptured by all things alternative, vegan, natural choice, organic, gluten free, and vaguely-PR-spun-to-symbolise-a-healthy-lifestyle, as long as these do not clash with the other strong Swedish traditional snack values of being ridiculously sugar dense and served in ball form. I'm looking at you, chocolate balls, cocoa balls, snow balls, coconut balls, and especially you, scum balls.
If I am to be perfectly honest here, I think my dislike of raw balls has less to do with their rawness (ooh, ouch. Don't touch them they're RAW) and more to do with the fact that I don't like the chocolate balls, cocoa balls, snow balls, coconut balls, or especially, scum balls that inevitably paved the way for this stupid craze. Balls are a bad shape for snacks. Counting them off on my fingers here, one, they roll around and can't be put nicely on a plate, two, they're gone in literally one bite, where is the well-deserved moment of pleasure in that?, three, they're often such poor quality, almost on the same level as the Jesus croissants, that they are essentially just cough dust when you bite into them and, most importantly, four, they are shaped like bollocks opening them up to all kinds of scrutiny. Scrotiny?
Give me a nice slice of cake, people. And for Pete's sake, just fucking OWN your snack time, you guilt-nagging shitbastard. Sugar made from crushed dates and ground dried apricots is STILL FUCKING SUGAR. If it's going to be a guilty pleasure then at least have it on a plate, with some substance and some oomph, not rolling around like a dusty, partnerless, RAW, testicle.
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