There was once a dumb-crooks news story about some burglars who broke into a house, found an urn labelled Charlie and snorted the contents, thinking it must be cocaine. It was, of course, the ashes of a pet dog named Charlie.
Gentrified takes on junk food with gratuitously expensive ingredients that are a slightly more subtle equivalent to just sprinkling everything with gold leaf like in 1990s Moscow or somewhere (“Our Southern-fried hog jowls come from rare heritage-breed hogs sourced from a tiny family-owned farm in the Outer Hebrides”)