The Omnivorous Fish

I’m in California. Southern California to be specific, in other words, I’m in hell. Ok, that’s a lie, it’s actually very nice (although I wouldn’t want to live here) here in Long Beach. I’m visiting several friends who have moved out here in the last two years, two of whom just had a baby (pictures to come). Now we’re headed to the local farmers’ market to pick up some provisions for our trip up to the cabin at Lake Arrowhead, in the San Bernardino Mountains.

Last night we had delicata squash, crimini mushrooms (which are white button mushrooms plus 3-4 weeks) and swiss chard on farfalle with some surprisingly good but ethically horrible processed pecorino-style cheese from the supermarket.

I have mentioned before my discomfort with supermarkets, and all this reading and research I have been doing about the USDA lately (more to come on that) has made it even more so. I look at bags of chips and jars of salsa like they are about to explode with hazardous materials, and maybe they are. The meal we ate last night was fantastic because it was more than the sum of its parts: the friends, the wine, the beautiful home and the atmosphere; but the simple fact is that the food from the supermarket just doesn’t taste as good. The swiss chard was bland and unvibrant, the mushrooms past their prime and don’t get me started on the squash.

OK, we’re off to the market.

Listening: Cats thumping on the stoop, blue jays and Michael nattering on the phone. Organic music.