The Great Grape Panic

I braved the icy roads today to go grocery shopping! Admittedly, it might sound more heroic if I said something like, "I braved the icy roads today to save a one-eyed old lady stuck in a tree with a three-legged kitten." But, I don't normally go grocery shopping so I get to say it's heroic when I do.

I mentioned once before that I did not know the price of a gallon of milk and, yes, that is partly because of my economic privilege but mostly because I don't go shopping often and don't pay attention to prices because I just want the shopping to be over.

Now that I am not working, I feel that I should make more of an effort to be more frugal or, at the very least, more conscious about prices.

So, today, I looked at prices.

People...food is expensive! Did you know this? Am I the last to know? Well, I am probably not the last...I'm sure Donald Trump doesn't know this either.

I started out in the produce aisle. Zeca likes grapes and I suspected grapes might be kind of expensive since they grow in far away places like, um, Grapeland? (No relation to Graceland). Notice that I assumed that they were costly but did not actually look at the price and try to puzzle it out before putting them in my cart. I just picked the smallest bag of grapes and went on my way. Then, I went to the meat counter to get hamburger and couldn't remember how much hamburger Luisa usually gets so I decided to just get a prepackaged thing of hamburger. I chose two packages of the lean, free-range, grass fed, spa cow beef which was slightly cheaper than the super duper lean fancy cow meat. I was very proud of myself because I figured I probably saved enough to buy myself something from the deli. Look at me with the savings!

I specifically did not buy sugar, baking powder, chocolate chips and pie crusts at the coop because I knew they'd be cheaper at the regular store. I was so proud of myself for my cleverness.

I went through the checkout and noticed the total was really high and then I saw it - GRAPES $9.91. Then, I had grape panic. I couldn't say, "OH MY GOD WHO PAYS THAT MUCH FOR GRAPES?!" because I know who does - ME! Fortunately, I didn't have a lot of time to dwell on the grapes when the beef went through at $11 something (and, yes, I realize that even now price specifics aren't my strong suit) for only about a pound and a half of spa cow.

I practiced deep breathing and repeated to myself, "You'll get used to this. You'll do better next time." Really, I just want Luisa to do the shopping but I think that, as a stay at home mom, it might be in my contract.

I got home and put away all the groceries and glared at the grapes and vowed that I would make the children eat the stems too so that we would get more bang for our buck.

Shortly after I put everything away and sat down with my curried chicken from the deli ($3.93), Deborah called. She said, "Hello!" and I said, "OH MY GOD DEBORAH GRAPES ARE SO EXPENSIVE FOOD IS SO EXPENSIVE DID YOU KNOW THIS?" and she said, "Yes, I know." I told her about the grapes and then the spa cow and she said that I had to continue to buy spa cow because otherwise I'd end up paralyzed. She really knows how to calm me down.

To assuage my grape guilt, I tweeted Luisa the following:

Things we need to do: make our own bed and eat squirrels.

I wanted to show her that I was taking this seriously and being proactive.

Tomorrow? I start pricing traps.

Coffee Romance

An American tourist, an Italian woman in a maid's uniform and a small hotel in Rome...

Sounds like the perfect set up for a romance novel, right?

In a way, I suppose it was a romance...except that I was the American tourist traveling in Rome with my family and the Italian woman was an actual maid in our hotel and the only words we ever exchanged were, "Coffee?" and "Si, grazie".

The morning after we arrived in Rome, we all slept late. Luisa got up and went for the complimentary continental breakfast and, when she returned, encouraged me to do the same. The kids were still asleep but breakfast was going to end in 15 minutes.

Luisa: You should go get breakfast. They have great bread and coffee.

Me: But I have bed head and I am not wearing a bra and I don't know how breakfast works here.

Luisa: It works like continental breakfast usually does. You go in, you sit down, someone brings you coffee and you eat.

Me: I'm scared. Come with me.

Luisa: We can't leave the kids alone and you should eat. You'll be fine.

What good does it do to have a girlfriend who is a cunning linguist if she won't help you get coffee and bread in a foreign country?

I sighed loudly, made myself as presentable as possible and stumbled to the dining area. There were pastries lined up on a long antique cabinet and small tables covered in linen table cloths and set with set with cups and silverware and there was a giant espresso machine nestled behind a bar. I focused my attention onthe espresso machine and that's when I saw her - the Italian woman, the heroine of my coffee romance novel.

"Coffee?"

"Si, grazie."

I sat down and she went to work. Soon, she arrived at my table with two small stainless steel pitchers - one held coffee and the other steamed milk. I thanked her again and she went back behind the bar.

I poured the coffee slowly into my cup. It was deep brown and smelled like freshly roasted and ground coffee beans. I poured in a bit of milk, stirred it lightly and then took my first sip. It was strong but smooth and, if I weren't such a self-conscious person, I might have allowed myself to moan just a tiny bit.

I was sitting in Rome drinking a perfect cup of coffee.

I drank every last drop of that little pitcher of coffee and went back every morning for the next three days. It was always the same woman, always the same coffee.

On the last day, I finished my last cup and wished that I spoke Italian. I wanted to tell that woman that she hadn't just given me coffee, she'd given me memories. Instead, I smiled and said, "Grazie". She smiled back and that was the end.

There are those moments in life when food and drink and people and place come together in a combination that you know you won't forget.

Those quiet mornings in Rome and those cups of coffee will stay with me for a very long time.

Vegan Week Wrap Up

The reports of my death due to veganism have been greatly exaggerated. I did, in fact, survive Day 6 and Day 7 .  Friday night, I went to Cafe Latte with Anne and her lovely family. I haven't been to Cafe Latte in years and had actually forgotten that they serve cafeteria style. Cafeteria style freaks me out because it requires me to awkwardly proceed through a crowded line while attempting to make decisions under pressure. I do not shine in those circumstances. Add to that the vegan issue and I was a little edgy. Anne and her husband, David, were very concerned that I wouldn't find something to eat which is so sweet and also the very thing that I hated most about being a vegetarian. I don't want people to worry about me and I don't want my dietary choices to inconvenience anyone in any way. This aspect of vegetarianism/veganism is still very hard for me and a good reason to say "Screw it! Bring me a steak!" But, back to Cafe Latte, there were ample choices for me but I did go through the line once, get out and go to the beginning and start through again. Still, I got a terrific spread sampler (hummus and guacamole) with fresh greens and cucumbers and, interestingly, I wasn't tempted by the desserts at all. Well, there was a moment when Anne's youngest son, Mostyn, was weilding a coffee stirrer covered in cheesecake and I stealthily got it from him and nearly licked it clean but that would have been out of habit more than desire. So...Anne, David, Calder, Sterling, Averill and Mostyn - thank you for a great time on Friday night!

Saturday night, Luisa made curried tofu and rice. This is a recipe that she usually makes with chicken and it also includes fish sauce. She switched to tofu and omitted the fish sauce. When the meal was served, Zeca said, "This isn't chicken! Where's the chicken?!" She remained disappointed throughout the meal. Although it was still yummy, I missed the fish sauce. So, before trying that again, we would want to find a suitable alternative.

Last night, vegan week culminated with spaghetti and meatballs as requested by our resident carnivore, Zeca. You see the challenge inherent in that one. Meatballs are called meatballs for a reason and that reason is the meat. Luisa found vegan "meatballs" at the coop and cooked 'em up for us while making turkey meatballs for the kids. I was excited to try the "meatballs" and had convinced myself that they were going to be surprisingly delicious. They were so horrible that they broke my budding little vegan heart. I stared into the plate as if to ask them "Why?! Why did you do this to me?" but they did not answer. They simply mocked me with their horrible texture and taste. There was a small silver lining in the meal - we discovered that vegan butter or "vegan buttery spread" is actually pretty good and a decent substitute for real butter. Still, the vegan "meatballs" drove me to despair and I said to Luisa through clenched teeth, "If I have gained any weight as a result of Vegan Week, I will lose my mind. Mark my words. Things will get ugly." She nodded like she always does when I use the Crazy Voice.

This morning, we weighed to see what havoc Vegan Week wrought (other than a deep distrust of fake meat) and neither of us lost any weight. We did not gain either which is good because I think I would have trashed this joint. This was not the result I expected because I have felt lighter this week. I know that sounds weird but I don't know how else to describe it. Luisa did not share this feeling, however. So, I don't what to make of it all.

Vegan Week has now come to a close. Luisa left today for DC and is probably having an entire roasted chicken right now. As for me...it's Day 8.