I’ve been thinking a lot about crackers lately. Not just eating them, mind you, but thinking about them. It used to be you could walk into any grocery store in the Gallatin Valley and find a reliable, sturdy cracker. A cracker that knew its place, a cracker that held up to a slice of cheddar, a cracker that didn’t crumble into dust just by looking at it.

But something has changed. I’m not sure when, or why, but it seems our cracker landscape has shifted. Now, everywhere I look, it’s either artisanal, gluten-free, or so thin it practically evaporates on the way to your mouth. Where are the good, honest, workhorse crackers?

I was at the new big box store out by Four Corners just last week, hoping for some luck. I spent a good fifteen minutes in the cracker aisle, dodging those oversized carts and trying to make sense of all the fancy packaging. There were crackers made with ancient grains, crackers flavored with rosemary and sea salt, crackers that cost more than a dozen eggs. But a plain, dependable cracker? Like finding a parking spot downtown on a Saturday.

It’s not just the crackers, either. It’s a trend I’ve noticed with other staples. Bread, for instance. Everything is sourdough or brioche or some kind of “artisan” loaf that goes stale before you get it home. Whatever happened to a simple white or wheat loaf that you could make a decent sandwich with?

My neighbor, Dale, who’s lived here since before they paved Main Street, said he noticed it too. “Used to be, you went to the store, you got what you needed,” he told me over the fence last Tuesday. “Now you need a dictionary just to read the labels. And don’t even get me started on the price of a decent pickle.”

I understand that people want variety, and that’s fine. But sometimes, you just want the basics. You want a cracker that’s not trying to be a gourmet experience. You want a cracker that you can put a piece of cheese on and not worry about it disintegrating. You want a cracker that’s just… a cracker.

It makes me wonder if we’re losing touch with the simple things, even in our food choices. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but I believe there’s still a place for a straightforward, honest cracker in this valley. And I, for one, am going to keep looking for it.

Lorraine Hubcap is a longtime Bozeman resident and pickle enthusiast. She serves on no boards and holds no titles, which she believes qualifies her to speak freely on matters of public concern.