I insist that I learned to cook simply because I live in culinary hell. I see other folks post on their blogs/websites about buying farm fresh veggies or lovely, exotic meals in lovely restaurants that know how to serve a customer without pissing them off first.
While on my super terrific fun weekend, I visited a farm stand unlike what I have available to me. (truth be told, there is a nice parking lot farmer's market in my town . . . but it only operates two mornings a week and the selection is a bit hit or miss) I bought a pound of beautiful, mixed heirloom mini tomatoes. There were yellow ones and orange ones and red ones and even a few juicy purple ones.
On the way to work this morning . . . I stopped and got some motz cheese, basil, and a box of couscous. I also picked up a few fragrant nectarines. For lunch, I made me and the Evil Side Kick a beautiful, spa worthy lunch of caprese salad and warm couscous and sliced fruit with just a touch of sugar. The warmth of the couscous softened the motz . . . the olive oil/red wine vinegar on the salad added a nice tang to the couscous. It was a wonderful repast.
Then, I tried to do my weekly grocery shop. I was dismayed to find that Mondays are a particularly bad day for shopping. The food was in short supply and picked over. And, honestly, it occurred to me that the selection of produce at our "best" grocery store does not change from season to season.
Like I said, culinary hell.
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