I didn’t have to leave the front aisle of the Olney Harris Teeter in order to gather the Odd Things entries for this month. The seasonal Summer display included what might be the epitome of the bone-laziness of the American people crossed with a slightly less disgusting but still snort-inducing appliance.
First, this:
Mo Muss, No Fuss, No Fun
S’mores-in-a-bag. Not kidding.
A product which takes possibly the most nostalgia-infused production ever, which can only properly be produced by an open flame, the marshmallow held in the sweet spot of a campfire for just the right amount of time for the proper char and meltiness; the Hershey’s milk chocolate square poised on the graham cracker, ready to receive said marshmallow neatly and without slopping off the sides; the warm but not burning sensation of the gooey, melty, crunchy, perfect bite of a summer night; and puts it in a bag for shelf-stable consumption.
May whoever conceived of this travesty be condemned to having every marshmallow they ever try to toast fall off into the flames.
And then right next to the sacks of decadence was a stack of electric burners designed for melting marshmallows on a tabletop. Is there no end? Does anyone have house space for a single-use appliance designed for possibly the narrowest of applications ever? (Says the admitted owner of a breadmaker which has sat unused for many many years.)
Just a Little More Fuss
And think of the mess when the marshmallow falls off your stick and melts on your kitchen table, or worse, falls on the burner itself!
Strolling over to the produce aisle, I found the third Odd Thing: Baby Groot flogging roasted pistachio nuts.
I Am Green Groot
Full of Nuts
Is there a rivalry going on between advertising agencies? Baby Groot vs. Baby Yoda? I thought it was cute when I saw the “I was Groot” chopstick rests and even bought a couple, but this is really going too far. I can see that it’s way too late to stop the tide of merchandising tie-ins, but I never thought of Groot as a pistachio tree, and I bet he didn’t either. Assuming there are pistachios in the “Guardians of the Galaxy” universe.
So, maybe succession is real. When I was lamenting the dearth of pokeweed, for years so prolific in my backyard, my daughter suggested that it was just the natural progression of the species population.
But isn’t that the whole point of having lawns, yards, gardens, etc.: to tame the spread of nature and halt the processes that would return our artificial savanna to Eastern woodlands? How dare the pokeweed decide to overrule us humans and absent itself by its own volition?
Whatever, the profusion of poke seems to have been supplanted by a fine harvest of wineberries. I’ll be the first to admit that I have encouraged the several thickets that have sprung up on the edges of my yard, as I really love this wild fruit.
Wineberries: Part of the Harvest
Wineberries on the Bush
Totally ignored by commercial fruit interests, more fragile than raspberries, covered with mostly-benign thorns, fairly seedy, these bushes supply me with breakfast fruit for their all-too-brief season in the late spring through early summer. I usually manage to beat the birds and deer to enough of them to eat them fresh (many go directly from bush to mouth) and freeze a few for later.
This season, there were plenty to eat and also to use to produce a batch of shrub. I made a small amount of this old but newly-trendy elixir last year as an experiment and wished I had made more. This time, I used a whole quart of apple cider vinegar and have plenty to try out with new uses. Besides just drinking it mix-and-matched with sparkling water, lemonade, and/or hibiscus tea, I’ve used it to quick-pickle onions and as a substitute for vinegar in salad dressing.
It keeps for weeks in the refrigerator. I look forward to finding many more uses for it!
Shrub Begun
The purple shiso is shaping up to be another fine crop. I’ve been marinating leaves overnight in soy sauce, garlic, brown sugar and red pepper flakes, then wrapping each leaf around a small chopstickful of warm rice. It’s the Korean way, and takes practice to do it gracefully. Even when the little bundles fall apart (which mine do frequently), they are still delicious. Even better with a little sesame oil.
Shiso in the Pot
Shiso Escaped
Shiso Marinating
The shiso was a gift from a friend of mine a few years ago. She warned me that it would take over the yard, so I planted it in a large pot on my patio. I am now finding it in odd places where, I suppose, the birds have had their way with it. It hasn’t managed to overwhelm the grass (and assorted interloping weeds) of the lawn yet, and I imagine the regular cutting keeps it in check. I don’t mind having a pop of purple in odd places around the place – and tasty with it!
I should not have been surprised to learn of a collaboration between Gastro Obscura and Dogfish Head Brewery. I’ve been enjoying regular email from G.O. for several years now, informing me of weird and wonderful things of culinary interest. (See also my review of their book, Gastro Obscura: A Food Adventurer’s Guide.)
And Dogfish Head: such a good match in attitude and spirit! Their previous adventures have included Midas Touch with the University of Pennsylvania Museum, a beer based on a 2,700-year-old recipe. I have a dogfish-shaped church key with their motto, “Off-centered Ales,” both practical and whimsical.
Bottle and Bottle Opener
Now comes their latest oblong-shaped effort, dubbed “Fermentation Engastration.” A little bit of an eye-roll, maybe? This multisyllabic moniker (strange even for their line of product) commands attention, but the description of the beverage behind the label as “the turducken of the beer world” inspires amused interest, and a desire to experience it for oneself. Fortunately, I was able to do that. Sam Calagione, Dogfish Head founder and brewer, kindly sent me a bottle to taste.
I’m aware of the term “turducken” by way of Paul Prudhomme, the late, lamented New Orleans chef. He popularized (if not invented) this example of culinary excess, by which a deboned chicken is stuffed inside a duck, which in turn is stuffed inside a turkey. The whole construct is then roasted long enough to cook it through. It’s tricky – cooked too long, the turkey breast will be irretrievably dried out; not long enough, and the chicken will be dangerously underdone. The duck should be pretty good, though, especially if seasoned with plenty of Cajun-style spice.
So how does the metaphor translate to a liquid beverage? Mr. Calagione says, “The ‘turducken’ of beer… artfully melds a whole myriad of complex ideas and brewing concepts into one multi-layered drinking event.” According to the Dogfish Head blog, “Fermentation Engastration draws inspiration from a collection of complex fermented beverages – a rose-scented sake, a Mid-Atlantic honey and date mead, a bittersweet hard cider, a fruity Muscat wine and a rustic farmhouse ale.”
Translate that to the ingredients on the label: barley, spelt, muscat grape juice concentrate, flaked rice, apple juice concentrate, honey rice syrup, date syrup, yeast, hops and rose petals.
I Had to Share It
Now this could well have resulted in a muddle of undistinguished flavors, but such is the mastery of craft at Dogfish Head that our tasting of Fermentation Engastration resulted in a delightful experience. Each flavor was distinct, presenting in series and on separate places on the tongue and palate. As sip followed sip, the drinker was presented with an intriguing, complex experience. There was a distinct floral essence on the back of the tongue; a sense of grapey-ness, only a touch sweet; and just a tiny hint of hops in the finish.
In short, a unique beer and a worthy entrant in the collection of Dogfish Head’s experimental brews. I’m only sorry it appears to be no longer available, limited edition as it was. I’ll look forward to their next collaboration, perhaps again with Gastro Obscura? An Obscura object of desire.
The current show at Round House assures many laughs, admiration for the set and lighting design, envy for the amazing costumes based on African fabrics, and a few tasty snacks as well. What’s not to like?
The plot is admittedly light and fanciful. Nothing profound or weighty, but if you are looking for a perfect rom-com escape for these warm summer nights, this is it. The acting is consistently hilarious, matched to parts of the ingenue, the wacky sidekick (sister), the handsome leading man, the nemesis, and a facilitator or two. All plot twists one expects are fully present, including the ending. (Happy ending? I bet you can guess!)
Yao Dogbe (Gbenga Ezie), Ernaisja Curry (Ayamma Okafor), Renea S. Brown (Dede Okorafor), and Joel Ashur (Wale Owasu). Photo by Margot Shulman PhotographyJoel Ashur (Wale Owasu) and Jacqueline Youm (Adenikeh). Photo by Margot Shulman Photography
Ayamma, a naïf dreaming of making it big in the Nigerian film industry, marks time while working at her parents’ travel agency along with her sister, Dede. Dede has a crush on Wale Owasu, a big star in said industry. Suddenly, Ayamma has a chance to audition for a film starring Wale. A complication: the leading role opposite Wale is all but assured to fall to the established actress, Fayola. Plot twists and hijinks ensue.
A recurring conceit, and one of the best treats, of the show finds the theater audience cast as the viewers of the Adenikeh Show, whose eponymic embodiment sports ever-more fabulous costumes as the evening progresses. Is textile porn a thing? Can I make it one? Adenikeh’s personality matches her outfits. As with all the actors, she is a treat to watch.
And speaking of treats, the café at Round House is offering African dishes and specialty cocktails to complete your sensory experience. I’ll quote the Round House Food and Beverage Manager, Frank Manganello, as he describes the offerings:
“We have a thematic menu for every show, and try to incorporate food and drink options that enhance the experience of coming to see the performance. I’ve incorporated the Suya spice blend to add a smoky/spicy kick to a homemade ‘BBQ sauce’ for a shredded chicken sandwich and also as a spicy dusting on roasted peanuts. We’re also featuring the West African superfood, fonio, in a bowl with lots of fresh veggies, herbs, and a tangy yogurt sauce. We partnered with Nigerian-owned Egunsi Foods to offer two items on the menu, a savory and vegan brown-eyed-pea stew called Gbegiri (reminiscent of lentil dahl) and Ata Din Din, a sweet and spicy red pepper sauce, that comes served as a dip with plantain chips. And of course, Dede’s favorite snack (ginger cookies) can be found as well!
“For cocktails, we’re featuring three for Nollywood Dreams. At opening, we were serving ‘Bringing Love’, which contains two locally-owned products! Blackleaf Vodka, Pratt Standard ginger syrup, lemon, and soda water. We’ve got a low-alcohol version of Nigerian Chapman spiced up with Campari, and a Bourbon Old Fashioned with homemade tamarind syrup called ‘The Comfort Zone.'”
At the Opening/Press Night, food was being sampled as well as Blackleaf Vodka, locally imported by entrepreneur Kevin Larkai. A sip revealed it to be both smooth and complex.
Savory Snax to Sample
And when the cast paraded out for their flowers and hugs, they were resplendent in African fabric duds. Yao Dagbe, especially, who as Gbenga Ezie sported the most extravagant designs of the male cast, seemed ready for his close-up as boulevardier.
The Cast and Crew Pose
Yao Dogbe Cuts a Fine Figure
Nollywood Dreams at Round House Theatre, by Jocelyn Bioh, directed by Raymond Q. Caldwell. Through July 3.
Last weekend I travelled out to the Music Center at Strathmore in Rockville twice, and faced a little cognitive dissonance as I was exposed to not one but two cults of personality; two different tribes with the same enthusiastic vibe centered on the object of their obsession.
On Friday, I went to see the opera “The Parable of the Sower.” I knew the book it’s based on is regarded by many in the science fiction community as visionary, one of the seminal works of Afro-Futurism. I didn’t know that there is a sizable cult of passionate devotees of Octavia Butler’s oeuvre, and it includes Bernice Johnson Reagon and Toshi Reagon.
Bernice Johnson Reagon was a founder of Sweet Honey in the Rock, an a cappella vocal ensemble which has performed traditional and original material since its founding in 1973. I figured that the combination of Butler and the Reagons meant some powerful magic was happening – and it was.
After the play ended, the audience was welcomed to stay for a conversation with Toshi Reagon and adrienne maree brown. Reagon and brown host a podcast called Octavia’s Parables, where they take deep dives into all of Butler’s works. The play has had a long history of workshops and performances (and its own website). Fans follow its progress on social media. In the minds of many, Octavia Butler is alive and well, and lives through her books. (See my review of the opera here.)
Sunday’s event couldn’t be more different, but eerily similar at the same time. Instead of a stage filled with musicians and actors, there were two chairs, one each for Chef Yotam Ottolenghi and one for Mary Beth Albright of the Washington Post, his interlocutor for the evening. The two of them engaged in conversation. Chef Yotam delivered opinions and inside stories, described his recipe testing process, and explained how he puts a cookbook together.
There was a sideshow in the lobby. This consisted of a counter where Chef Yotam’s cookbooks were sold. Long lines formed to purchase pre-signed books. Another line marked the table where audience members could fill out cards with questions for the chef. There was, alas, no actual contact with the great man for the hoi polloi, but there was definitely an air of hero worship.
His books foreground vegetables. Although not himself a vegetarian, he believes vegetables should not take a back seat to meat as the main event, but can shine on their own. When asked about his philosophy for recipe development, he described a method of layering ingredients and flavors on large platters for best visceral effect. “The team always asks, ‘Is this Ottolenghi enough?’ Each dish must be Ottolenghified” by adding a surprise of flavor or garnish.
Pressed for details of his testing process, he admitted to some unusual steps. One involves using “bad” ingredients to see how they would affect the final dish. Then there is his secret weapon: a woman named Claudine in Wales, who tests every recipe (thousands!) and submits written reports. This provides the perspective of cooking a dish in the real world.
Audience questions were addressed. What is your comfort food? Rice and lentils with fried onions. It’s known throughout the Middle East; called koshary in Egypt. Did having kids change your cooking? Yes! They’re brutally honest critics.
Asked about the process of putting a cookbook together, the chef talked enthusiastically about styling and photographing the dishes. “It comes to life when it’s photographed.” It was not a surprise to learn that his thesis topic (for a major in comparative literature) was photography as a representation of reality.
His restaurants and food shops, all in London, were of interest to the audience. He is especially well known for the brownies sold there, and here he divulged the secret of their deliciousness: chopped gianduja bars in the mix. I can’t wait to try it!
Until international travel becomes a bit easier, a visit from an internationally-known chef will have to do. I don’t have to travel for the gianduja, either. The internet is my friend.
It was amazing that this year’s Sakura Matsuri was the 60th annual Japanese street festival in Washington, but was the first I had been to. Maybe it had to do with my conviction that it wouldn’t be anything like the several matsuris I had seen in Japan.
It wasn’t a totally uninformed opinion; I have been to several night markets in Asia, and the ones in Portland and Baltimore operate in alternate universes. I figured that this matsuri would be about the same – an Americanized production with faint echoes of Japan-ness to it.
And, I was right! But I found myself enjoying it anyway! Viruses are not the only things that are contagious in our world; I succumbed to a kind of mutual cheerfulness born of shared experience, floating in the air. Thousands of us were packed into a few blocks of Pennsylvania Avenue determined to have a good time, many imaginatively dressed. There were plenty of things to enjoy: music, performances, drumming (so much drumming!) kid’s activities, exhibits, shopping, food.
As soon as I walked onto the fenced-off area of the avenue, I saw a familiar brand: Dolci Gelati, a fixture in Washington for several years. What qualified this unquestionably Italian company to sell their product at a Japanese event? The flavors they were offering, that’s what: matcha green tea, cherry blossom, vanilla ginger gelato, and Asian pear sorbetto. (And chocolate. You can’t not have chocolate.) Gianluigi Dellaccio himself, the company president, was there. It was nice to meet him. I’ve been enjoying his gelato at the Takoma Park store for several years now.
Imaginatively Dressed Gelato Customers
There was an interesting assortment of booths for various interest groups. Origami, traditional Japanese handicrafts, trivia, and many others were represented. An HBO Max show called Bree’s Bakeoff Challenge attracted some fervent fans.
Bree’s Bakeoff Fans
Other sightings ranged from a little girl in a yukata
Yukata and Capitol
To a clutch of Elegant Lolitas gathered by a fountain
Lolitas and a Guy in a Helmet
To a pair of Okinawan kimono
Okinawa Welcomes You Beyond Tokyo
To the wonderful variety of cosplayers lined up for a contest.
Look! It’s Sailor Moon!
And what about the food? There was an array of the usual street fair fare, some having little to do with anything Japanese, but also some almost-authentic offerings. The line for Saku Saku Flakerie was short enough to tempt me into buying two of their buns for lunch. The black sesame and purple potato buns were tasty. I thought about the matcha kouign-amann but just couldn’t quite stomach the fusion stretch.
A Little Fusion Cognitive Dissonance
Then there was the taiyaki tent. Who knew there would be such a demand for fish waffles? The line stretched for, seemingly, miles. It did not seem to faze Joriz, who wore an appropriate hat with good humor and great elan. I would have liked one or two taiyaki but would have been late for the fish killing.
Good Sport Joriz
As it was, I arrived in good time to get a seat at the ike jime demonstration. This technique, as practiced by Andrew Tsui, founder and president of the Ike Jime Federation, assures the very highest quality of fish destined for sushi and sashimi. Done properly, the fish feel no pain when they are lulled off to oblivion without stress, and cooled immediately in a slurry of ice and water (“slushed.”) Mr. Tsui’s organization is devoted to teaching fishermen how to handle their catch in this manner to assure top grade product.
This Flounder is Bound for Sushi
It Bleeds Out Peacefully in the Water
The Fish Meets Its Destiny
Future Sushi Chefs?
Following the fish, a lecture on cocktail making utilized this big inflatable bottle of shochu. There was no shochu inside, and there did not appear to be any samples in the offing.
Big Shochu Bottle, Empty
And following that (for something completely different), a rousing performance by Ryukyukoku Matsuri Daiko of drumming and dancing. They had the crowd with them right up to the big finish.
They Came From Massachusetts
Browsing the merchandise tents, I found the perfect fairing to remember the day: a pair of chopstick rests emblazoned with “I WAS GROOT” from a woodworker, who also had handmade chopsticks and other admirable stock. But I have a chopstick rest collection, and the science fiction reference was perfect.
Tradition and history strengthen the resolve in the face of impending loss. A good recipe for black-eyed peas helps, too.
Grace, a new musical playing until May 14 at Ford’s Theatre, celebrates the multi-generational culinary tradition of a long-established restaurant and catering business run by the black Minton family in Philadelphia. With daughter Ruthie in danger of losing the restaurant as the customer base vanishes through neighborhood gentrification, the family must pull together to save it, or let it be a casualty of “The Wave of Change,” as the song describes.
At first, bowed by the recent loss of the family matriarch, the two generations gathered for the funeral are obsessed with their own issues. One brother pushes for selling the place. He even claims to have a “guy” interested in buying it. Others support carrying on with the century-old Minton family business, but can’t quite come around to helping Ruthie out with the critical loan payment that is just about to come due.
There’s a cast of twelve mostly outstanding voices, Virginia Ann Woodruff as Miss Minnie and Nova Y. Payton’s Ruthie strongest among them, both with showstopping solos. Woodruff’s belting belies her shuffling walk and elderly stoop as she assumes the mantle of eldest family member. Payton’s finest moment comes about midway through the production; in a longer play (this one is just 90 intermission-less minutes), it would surely serve as the Act One curtain.
The backdrop (designed by Jason Ardizzone-West) almost functions as an additional cast member, displaying a mural of the past generations of Minton’s owners, creatively highlighted as each ancestor is name-checked in “Bogle, Augustin, Prosser, Dorsey, Jones & Minton.” A history lesson that goes down a treat.
From left: Jarran Muse, Raquel Jennings, Nova Y. Payton, Virginia Ann Woodruff, Rayshun LaMarr, Arica Jackson, David Hughey, and Duawne Starling. Ford’s Theatre presents the world-premiere musical Grace, by acclaimed American composer, Nolan Williams Jr, and directed and choreographed by Robert Barry Fleming.
The variety of musical styles include classical jazz, R&B, soul and traditional spirituals, lending themselves to moods from wistfulness to moments of broad comedy. “Black-Eyed Peas” is hilarious as a study of one-upmanship through salad recipes. (Speaking of, I can’t remember ever seeing a recipe as lagniappe printed in a theatrical program, but there it is, courtesy of Carla Hall, no less!)
Another rousing number, “The Gospel Bird (This Chicken Died),” starts out as a testament to that fine dish, fried chicken wings, and climaxes with the entire cast doing the chicken dance.
I don’t think it will count as a spoiler to recount that Grace ends on a hopeful, if rather rushed, note, embodying its title as the entire family is united in their desire to work toward the continuance of the Minton family tradition and culinary enterprise. Go see it, and you, too, will feel the urge to praise the chicken who died so that you might live.
Once again, a convergence of events conspire to produce cognitive dissonance and tasty culinaria!
It’s March, and the wonderful folks at Taylor Strategy, on behalf of Guinness, sent me a couple of cans to cook with. Last year I made Guinness Potato Cheese Soup, but this year I decided to honor Pi Day by making a round baked good with filling and crust. With Guinness, of course.
I had a package of the head and butt end of a salmon, which Harris Teeter has been offering at a discount after they sell off the fillets to the bourgeoisie. Perfect for the stock and filling of a Guinness Fish Pie. I found a recipe on the Irish Country Magazine website credited to Oran Colhoun, head chef at Visitor Catering. I converted the metric measurements, cut the quantity in half, and subbed the salmon for the mixed seafood it called for.
Raw Ingredients for Pie
There’s another attraction to this recipe: instead of a pastry crust, it’s topped with mashed potatoes. Despite the shuddery memories of high school cafeteria shepherd’s pie, I forged ahead. It’s fish, not ground beef! It will be delicious!
And it was. I made stock from the fish head, filleted and cubed the flesh from the tail, cooked a mix of vegetables with more garlic than the recipe called for, and deglazed them with white wine and Guinness; then added the stock, fish, lemon juice, and a generous heap each of dill and parsley. This mix was thickened with milk and cornstarch (Americanized from the recipe’s cornflour). I topped it with mashed potatoes enriched with more milk and butter, and ran it under the broiler until the potatoes were nicely browned.
The recipe (being from a chef) called for cream in both filling and topping. A little rich for my blood. The substitution of milk worked out well.
Here’s Looking at You, Fish!
Filling Ready to Fill
Pie is Served
I happened to be running an errand near the Leisure World Giant the day before, so I stopped in for the dill and parsley (if you make this recipe, do not, by the way, omit the lemon juice or dill; they add immensely to the flavor. By contrast, the parsley seemed dispensable.) The Giant had a display of foodstuffs for St. Patrick’s Day which gratified the cognitive dissonance niche this time of year seems to foster. (As I mentioned in my last post, Harris Teeter has apparently spent their budget on Valentine’s Day this year.)
Green Giant Display
Hot cross buns; “St. Patrick” sugar cookies; and something labeled “Guinness Chocolate Stout Cake” containing neither Guinness, nor chocolate, nor stout. The label very carefully describes it as “infused with the genuine flavor of your favorite brands.” Looking at the list of ingredients, it’s really hard to see how they did that. I guess “natural and artificial flavor” is how. I’ll just stick to the real thing, thank you!
And I could not be more ready. There are many other folks who share that feeling; some of them gathered last week for the National Cherry Blossom Festival press conference. There were two pieces of news to report: it’s happening in person this year! And, the estimated time of peak bloom has been determined.
High atop a building with a perfect view of the Tidal Basin, a blast of pink greeted members of the press and many folks excited to be involved with the festivities. From the Mayor to the National Park Service Superintendent of the National Mall, they were all tickled, um, you know.
Welcome to the Pink!Were the Pink Will Be
This year marks the 110th anniversary of the first cherry tree gift from Japan. The Festival has not been running for quite that long, but it has grown from simple tree-planting ceremonies to this year’s four-week-long celebration, which has spilled over from the Mall to several neighborhoods. In addition to the Opening Ceremony; the Kite Festival; the Cherry Blossom Parade and Sakura Matsuri; the Petalpalooza music festival; and the Pink Tie Party (all downtown), some pandemic-driven innovations have been retained, most notably the Petal Porches. Residents are encouraged to decorate their porches and register to compete for prizes. Best Blossom Block, anyone?
Sponsors have also been corralled. Some are participating with product introductions, one of which was proudly on display at the press event: La Croix Cherry Blossom sparkling water. It has a lovely floral aroma and a light taste, with no cough syrup overtones at all. The water itself is not pink, although the can sustains the optics of the theme.
The Pink Drink
The Clear Drink
I met Barbara Ehrlich, a Cherry Blossom board member, whose association with the Festival began years ago, “when it was all-volunteer.” She has the collection of yearly pins to prove it.
Ms. Ehrlich Shows Her Pins
Also present: Lea Craigie, the artist who designed this year’s theme. We bonded over a love of cats and craftwork.
Each of the honored guests gave a short speech, and then it was time for the Big Reveal. Superintendent Reinbold and the juggler executed a little routine designed to draw out the suspense, and then the beans were spilled: Peak Bloom Time will be March 22-25 this year – at least as far as we can tell on March 1.
Keeping Those Balls in the Air
After that, all the speakers lined up for a group picture. Here it is.
The Blossom Brigade
In order, left to right: Jeffrey Reinbold, National Park Service; Brooke Pinto, Ward 2 DC Councilmember; Diana Mayhew, President, National Cherry Blossom Festival; Lea Craigie, Artist; Muriel Bowser, Mayor; Chinyere Hubbard, Events DC; and Ryo Kuroishi, Embassy of Japan.
Ah, the eating opportunities of February! There are three: Lunar New Year, Valentine’s Day, and the unofficial but very real holiday: Girl Scout Cookies Go On Sale Day.
Time was, a trip to Chinatown or a dim sum palace in the ‘burbs was in order for the first, but alas! Circumstances have conspired to deprive me of that happy experience. Never mind, the month contained a couple of gastronomic events worthy of being written about.
I walked into the Olney Harris Teeter about a week before Valentine’s Day. One entrance to the store looked pretty normal. The usual fruit, vegetables, sushi, and deli counters were the same as always, with a few exceptions.
I Love (You) Shrimp
Take home a heap of heart-shaped shrimp! And if that doesn’t prove your love, try again with sushi! And for dessert, a taste of honey? No, chocolate-dipped strawberries, packaged in guess what?
But I Love Sushi More
My Heart Belongs to Chocolate Strawberries
Fair enough. I just assumed HT got a carload of heart-shaped food containers for Valentine’s day and was not afraid to use them. I continued shopping, and wandered over to the other side of the store, where I was met with a blast of red and pink. The florist, Debbie, who has worked there since the store opened, had outdone herself. The whole area devoted to seasonal candy displays and the flower department had been transformed into a vision of hearts, cupids, and opportunities to prove to your significant other how much (s)he means to you. It was dazzling.
Smother Your Lover with Flowers and Balloons
There’s Debbie, Between the Strings
I managed to escape without too much red overdose. But if you want to see for yourself, I’m afraid it’s too late. The whole display has been swept away, replaced with green (St. Patrick’s Day) and some premature pastel Easter stuff.
And as for Girl Scout cookies, there were not one but two troops selling from card tables in the mild weather of about two weeks ago in Ashton. They were set up across the road from each other, and didn’t realize they were competing until I mentioned it (their views were blocked). For that day at least, Ashton was a two-cookie town. I was proud.
Troop 31042 Sold Me Samoas
The Leaders of Troop 516 Assured Me That the Girls Were on Their Way
I got a box of Samoas, my favorite. And they’re gone now, too, just like that overdose of Valentine red. Tempus fugit.
