Last week I walked into the Starbucks on Trade Street in the Gateway to get a latté when I noticed a large photograph of a bowl of oatmeal dotted with berries suspended above the order counter. The description read: Perfect Oatmeal. The day was cold; the Perfect Oatmeal looked warm. I asked the Starbucks employee whether the oatmeal was homemade. Yes, of course, she replied. I ordered one.
I watched as she turned her back to the counter, got a small package, ripped off the top, poured the contents into a bowl, added water and stuck it into a microwave. A few minutes later, the homemade oatmeal rested in front of me on the counter. To this employee, homemade or made in-house meant adding water and heating in a microwave.
When a sports bar claims the tortilla chips are homemade, are they? Are they homemade if the chips are merely fried in the kitchen, but the tortillas were bought? If French fries are bought frozen, are they house-made if they are fried in-house?
Or what about this recent discourse at a grocery store's fish counter:
Is this fish fresh or has it been frozen?
Clerk: It was fresh when it was frozen. Gee, really?