No one in my family has ever bought a jar of pasta sauce. It’s just not our style. Like most Italian families around here, we’d go to the basement and grab a jar of our homemade sauce off the shelves. Growing up, I didn’t even know that not everyone did this.
I recently started shopping for food at the 99 Cents Store in my neighborhood. It’s not as depressing as it sounds. I mean sure, the place certainly looks depressing from the outside. It’s got this garish blue and yellow paint, there are always people loitering around outside muttering to themselves, and there’s a security guard posted up at the entrance to make sure people don’t steal any more shopping carts.
Although we understand average costs of living, we rarely see the high-price of heirloom work reflected on our price tags. Suddenly $8 for a dozen eggs, which I’d washed by hand, almost seems too low.
I went back to the hardware store to get two tomato cages. My goal here is to support their stalks so they can grow tall and give me a million tomatoes. I know that’s not a realistic number, but I love tomatoes and want to make them a priority.
In 2013 I made the decision to go back to school and get my master’s degree. But since I didn’t want to take two years off (fear of lost income and long-term damage to my salary history beyond that of just “being a woman”), I decided to go part-time and continue my full-time job. I thought, “I’m good at multitasking. How hard could this be?”
Before we get into the discussion of “is Soylent an acceptable food substitute,” let’s take a look at how much switching to Soylent is going to cost you.
I like bacon, eggs, and any valid reason to start drinking before noon, but I detest spending $30 for approximately $5 of value.
Despite the fantastic Lebanese mezze there is to be found in the Temple Lounge off Cowley Road, despite the remarkable momos from the truck that appears every Wednesday at the Gloucester Green market, and despite the best efforts of the much beleaguered co-operative People’s Supermarket (which in fact closed for good two years ago), perhaps the most famous food in Oxford in England is to be found on the table of formal hall.
“Are you afraid of getting burned?” asked my supervisor as I gingerly lifted a floppy, undercooked crêpe with a spatula. I looked at it with dismay as it fell apart. She swept it off to the side with one long motion of her own spatula, greasing the griddle again. “I’m not,” she said as I struggled to spread the thick buckwheat batter evenly on the huge griddle.
If we are going to eat well in the future, we have to continue to modernize our food production instead of looking to the past.
I worked the coat check at fetish parties, escorted women home from their plastic surgery appointments on the Upper East Side, babysat, dogsat, and cleaned out apartments belonging to hoarders.
You can fancy it up further with those herbs that you bought a bunch of for that one recipe and left in your fridge to silently judge you every time you open the door.
Really good bourbon whisky, for when the situation calls for it. Really good dark chocolate, preferably with sea salt, for the same reason.
Remember how I went grocery shopping last week and said “but it doesn’t feel like I bought any food?” Well, I was right on that count.