Furry Chicks and Fuzzy Puppets

Ten years ago, I decided that fast food is not only unhealthy, the concept is criminal. I can't remember why I had this revelation. Was it a news story? A magazine article? A conversation with a friend? Perhaps it came with my training in Hatha yoga and the resulting increased awareness of, well, everything. Regardless, I committed myself to never again eating fast food or supporting the vast business of it with even so much as a purchase of a cup of coffee.

I've done fairly well over the years. I can only remember four transgressions:
  • A fast food burrito in Albuquerque when I was a vegetarian who was desperately hungry at 11:00 at night.
  • A hurried sub on the road in Illinois or Indiana after a stop at a local grocery store proved unhelpful.
  • Two lunches at a burger joint in Wisconsin, for which I have no other excuse except poor planning and lack of snackage.
After these slips, I felt greasy, guilty and unsatisfied, but I atoned, forgave myself, ate a salad later in the day and moved on. Of course, it's easy to avoid fast food in New York. Lunch on the fly can be any number of fantastic non-corporate eats.

Several times over these years, friends have asked if I have read Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser. I said, 'No I don't eat fast food, and I don't need to be any more disturbed about the reasons than I already am.'

The problem, however, is that not reading about the problems with modern food production didn't save me from becoming increasingly aware that I have other important choices to make. A few weeks ago, I stood in front of a chilled section at Key Food holding a package of chicken sausage. I read, I pondered, I put it back, walked away, came back, picked it up again, and repeated the process, until 15 minutes later I walked out of the store without the damn sausage.

Good lord, I thought. This is getting out of hand. I feel the need to blog confess about eating a non-local peach for breakfast, and now I can't even occasionally buy supermarket sausage.

I couldn't buy the sausage because it wasn't organic, free range, antibiotic free, and so on. Just the weekend before, I was in a car with my brother K. driving by a chicken "farm" in Illinois. The farm was a series of long buildings with no windows. The stench that infiltrated our nostrils was not only cloying but gut-rolling. As I stood in the grocery store, staring at the sausage, I wondered again, what was happening in those long, dark buildings?

If I had planned better, I could have had humanely raised non-factory meat from the farmer's market. I went home and made tofu, hoping it was a somewhat better choice though knowing there were plenty of issues with soy that I had failed to become knowledgeable about. And, boy howdy, are there ever, but at least my tofu was organic.

Friday night, LP and I went to see Food Inc. And now, ladies and g's, there is no turning back. If I had seen the movie sooner, the 15-minute sausage dilemma would not even have occurred. There is a big difference between kind of knowing that some choices are better than others and seeing both the problems and their consequences. The endearing, disturbing and somewhat funny image of thousands of adorable baby chicks on a conveyor belt will forever be imprinted on the part of my psyche related to food.

Sometimes, we have valid excuses for not supporting something in which we strongly believe. In this case, I have none. It is not inconvenient to shop locally. I work five minutes from one of the best farmer's markets in New York City. It is more expensive, but I make enough money to support better food choices, for which I am particularly grateful given the current economic climate. And, it's summer, so there is a bounty of fresh, in season local foods to be enjoyed.

And you know, I don't want to preachy. It's not really my style. Some topics just light a little fire under my tummy, and food is so critical to our well being, I can't help myself. This entry is not so much a suggestion to you, readers, as it is just another section of my gastronomic path, the same one that involves enjoying high quality bourbon at Louis 649 and other such adventures. I do recommend seeing Food Inc. if for no other reason than becoming informed. The origin of the chicken sausage in your supermarket shouldn't be a mystery.

Sigh. I do fear that someday my frequent enjoyment of dining out will become a dilemma, but in the meantime, I'm just trying to do the best that I can with what I eat at home.

Ironically, LP and I landed at City Winery on Varick Street after the movie and found, to our surprise, local wine... sort of. The grapes aren't local, but the wine is made on the premises. Instead of bottling, they serve it "on tap," which, according to the congenial bartender, means the wine is more pure. LP and I both tried the City Winery flight, which is a bargain for $9. The Sohovignon Blanc was LP's choice while mine was the Late Spring Pinot Noir. Both were young and fruity, but quite enjoyable, particularly for a summer evening.

Unfortunately, the entertainment spoiled our sipping. Two men with muppet-like puppets began belting out bad covers of 70s and 80s music just as we started our post-flight choices. I mean, really? Two grown men with puppets on their lap singing Whiskey Bar by the Doors?

Happily, I saw a great band on Saturday night at Arlene's Grocery, balancing out the weekend's entertainment value. CME and I had some of the best pizza in the City at Three of Cups on 1st Avenue and 5th Street. We ordered the four cheese and sun-dried tomato, both of which were fantastic. The crust was thin, the cheese was light. The flavor on the four-cheese popped with garlic, and the sweetness of the sun-dried tomato was perfectly balanced with salty kalamata olives.

From Three of Cups we headed down to Arlene's to see Northern Public, a rock band fronted by DME (CME's husband). The band was tight, and the lyrics were original. No puppets. No bad cover tunes. And, the band asked the audience to write introductions to their songs, which was both creative and fun. Of course, mine was liquor related. Given a piece of paper that said "This song is about" with several blank lines, I wrote "Bourbon... and the road trip my soul took through a bottle from Kentucky." What can I say? Liquor inspires poetry.

That's all I've got! I've prattled on quite a bit this week. Before I leave you, I would like to recommend checking out the recent Jersey Pie blog post "Jersey Pie Road Trip 1" about Jennifer and Kendal's take on Food Inc. and how it relates to cherry pie!

Stay tuned! Next week back to cocktails!

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