You Take the Good, You Take the Bad
I'll wait a second while you finish singing the "Facts of Life" theme song. We good? OK.
As a kid, I fucking hated raw tomatoes. I'm talking serious passionate hate, people. They were mealy, flavorless and had a color so muted that you could barely call it red. Or pink. I could not understand why anyone would eat them. Ever.
Fast forward to now. I have been scarfing down the heirlooms like it's my job. Green zebras, Brandywines, you name it. Jon and I recently bought a package of Fatted Calf bacon, a fuckload of heirlooms and some Acme pain de mie. We used the entire package of bacon and the majority of the tomatoes on two BLTs. That's right, not seven, two. At least I have a (weak) excuse.
More than any other piece of produce, tomatoes are the reason I believe in eating locally and seasonally. There is just no comparison.
The whole season I have been dreading the day I knew would come. The day that the tomaters start to suck again. And, unfortunately, judging from restaurant menus, the Farmer's Market and Whole Foods, that day is here (or at least near). That's the bad.
Now for the good.
Holy fucking shitballs: Costco carries Mexican coke. When did this happen? And why did no one tell me? A fair argument would be that because Jon and I practically live at Costco (you can't beat the return policy, even with the new caveats, and they are 100% blue to boot), one would assume we would know. But that's not how it works.
Jon and I use Costco for very different reasons than the masses. We buy household items and appliances. Books. DVDs. Liquor. Wine. Magazines. Electronics. Paper towels and toilet paper. Drugs. Flowers. Fuzzy socks. Q-tips. You get the idea. What is missing from this list? Food and beverages.
You see, I have no need for 18,000 processed rice crispy treats. Occasionally we will buy a hunk of Parmesan or something but that's about it. And when we hit the beverage section, it's to grab a case of Pellegrino before we make a run for it.
But yesterday we lingered toward the back after grabbing the jumbo sized paper towel bundle and the aforementioned case o' sparklie water. And out of the corner of my eye, I spied the most glorious case of beverages known to man: Mexican coke.
I'm not a soda drinker usually, but I do enjoy the coke. In fact, Mr. Food Musings has agreed with me that coke is a secret magical elixir that cures ills like no other (case in point: it was the one thing that soothed my morning sickness). And since a coke a day falls well within the acceptable caffeine guidelines for knocked up chicks, and since Diner #3 seems to really want me to drink coke (the only true craving I've had), I've been enjoying that sweet cola goodness (in safe 12 oz. per day doses).
Now, I have not been purchasing the coke for home use. Regular coke is just not special enough. Besides, most restaurants we eat at have bottle (or Mexican) coke so there was no need. But when I saw them there bottles could come live at my house with me, I started crying in the aisles of Costco. I loves me the Mexican coke. Why? Well, because it's better. It tastes better and, one could argue, it's better for you. Sure, it's packed with cane sugar, which isn't great, I'll admit, but at least it's not the corn syrup river that makes up the coke that we get here in the US of A.
This new discovery is a dangerous, dangerous thing for my ass size.
"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld