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I come from a long line of Morton Coarse Kosher Salt users. My mother bought it. My grandmother bought it. My sisters-in-law bought it. Even my non-Jewish mother-in-law bought the coarse kosher salt with the girl under the umbrella.

But recently, I couldn’t find the familiar navy box. And believe me, this multiple-market shopper/schlepper tried.

Finally, desperate, and down to the last few pinches of Morton’s, I bought a different brand: Diamond Crystal Salt, formerly known as Diamond Crystal Kosher Salt.

Who knew I had purchased a product universally beloved by professional chefs, one now being aggressively promoted to cooking klutzes like me?

Grandmotherly cooking goddess Ina Garten sings Diamond Crystal’s praises. It’s the salt of choice for recipe testing at Bon Appétit. It even played a supporting role in the FX hit show “The Bear,” with boxes of the stuff stacked in the restaurant’s kitchen.

For more than a century, Diamond Crystal’s makers were decidedly not focused on home cooks. The red-and-white boxes weighed in at a brick-like three pounds and were too tall to display at eye level — prime retail space — on supermarket shelves.

But in 2020, parent company Cargill decided to go after “aspiring home chefs” and initiated a marketing campaign that included a product redesign. The goal: increase annual revenue from $3 million to a whopping $50 million.

Out went the old box design in which the word “kosher” was the largest word on the box. Now the words “Diamond Crystal” figure most prominently.

A seal with the Star of David was also removed. The reason: In a presentation to Cargill, design experts suggested that religious cues can limit “consumer range.” Oy.

Typography was modernized, and multiple, consumer-friendly package size options were developed.  Vive la différence! Vive the consumer!

But Cargill faces an uphill battle. More than 90 percent of kosher salt buyers choose Morton’s, according to the University of Minnesota’s Carlson School of Management.

Marketing matters aside, the culinary subject of salt sparks confusion, at least for me. Diamond Crystal’s kosher salt is coarse, but less so than Morton’s. What does that mean? Does the more “refined” Diamond go to the symphony, but Morton doesn’t, possessing more plebeian klezmer tastes?

And don’t get me started on all those fancy salts. Fleur de sel, sea salt, celtic sea salt, flake salt, pink salt and black salt. When I feel salty ambitious — an admittedly rare occurrence — I might venture into the realm of celery salt, but that is it. Spice drawer, closed!

In writing this column, I came across an article titled “12 Different Types of Salt and When to Use Them.” I didn’t read it. I couldn’t. The title alone overwhelmed me. I’m still unclear about the difference between yellow and white onions. How could I possibly absorb information about 12 salt types? In my opinion, the only good use of a dozen salts is as a gift set — a present I’m sure will ultimately be regifted.

The one thing I know for certain is that my grandmother, may she rest in peace, used Morton Coarse Kosher Salt and she was the best cook ever.

So, while I wish Cargill good luck with its Diamond Crystal redesign and consumer campaign, I’ll stick with my Morton.

All this re-branding reminds me of the time my sister-in-law served up “pâté” and “vichyssoise” on her fancy new china at an equally fancy dinner party. Très chic! Très elegant! The family, seated at a secondary card table in the hall, didn’t dish about the menu to the other guests, but we knew the scoop. It was Grandma’s Hungarian chopped liver loaded with schmaltz and her potato soup with sour cream.

Some things cannot be improved, no matter the box it comes in, no matter the dish it’s served on and no matter the name you give it.