It’s been a weird few days coming off of the Eat Local Challenge. Suddenly, the bars are gone and the bewildered prisoner finds herself looking for crimes to commit to get back on the inside. Meanwhile, our farmshare size, though still respectable, is getting smaller and smaller, and all manner of hard squashes and gourds are showing up and, oh my god, is it winter already? I was just getting the hang of eating locally, and now stupid Nature has to go and f it all up with her womanly cycles.
I was lost at the grocery store. I couldn’t decide what to buy. After wandering around for a little while, I found myself staring at the hot dogs.
"Can I buy you?" I asked them.
They didn’t respond. But then I realized I was being dumb. Of course, I can buy hot dogs. I buy them every time I go to the grocery store (minus last month), and so I’m buying them now. Except then I started wondering where I was going to find local hot dog buns, and then there’s all the condiments and chutneys I’d have to make, not to mention the sauerkraut won’t be ready in time, and what the hell is wrong with me? It’s over. Buy the goddamned hot dogs.
Long story short, I didn’t buy the hot dogs, but it was only because the full-fat version of Hebrew Nationals were out of stock and only the 97% fat-free versions abounded. What’s the point of those?
See, I came to my senses eventually.
Back at home, I struggled to come up with something to make for dinner. I thought once the challenge was over, my past cooking life would seem easy by comparison (I’m a creature of habit, after all). But, dinner, it seems, still doesn’t cook itself. How the hell did I cook before the challenge, anyway? Turns out blogs are good for answering those kinds of questions.
I made a stir-fry.