Tuesday, March 18, 2003

The Project last night was a bust, because I couldn’t find chestnuts.  Not so surprising for mid-march, I guess.  So we ate leftover lamb and shredded Brussels sprouts, and Eric watched the TV all night.  Wars make a good excuse for that sort of behavior. Terrible times. In the interest of distraction, here’s something to get riled up over that has nothing – well, nothing but the SUVs that San Francisco vegetarian liberals drive, and that do not fall under our Commander “You can blow up our buildings, but you will never force us to give up our Landrovers!” in Chief’s notion of “sacrifice” – to do with current events.  Alice Waters’ revolution is a failure, according to the New York Times!  I could have told you that.  This article had me raving all Saturday, after reading the Sunday Styles section that we get early because we subscribe, which maybe makes me not the most effective critic.  But a revolution of the upper middle class is not a revolution at all.  I sympathize with Ms. Waters’ goals, I really do.  But to say "I think that there's something really special and important about knowing that you can only have a peach for a very brief moment each year" really does beg the addition of “and if you’re wealthy in Southern California and have the time and the wherewithal to spend your time roaming Napa Valley greenmarkets and patronizing extremely expensive restaurants like mine.” It seems to me – and I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit – that any revolution in food and agricultural has to be two pronged.  Yes, by all means, extol the virtues of the artisanal this and organic that, patronize the small farmers and the renegade cheese-makers, if you can afford it.  But the goal is to make good food available to everyone, isn’t it?  And that means doing more than opening a hoity-toity restaurant.  That means lobbying and teaching and bringing the food to Mohammed, and otherwise getting your hands dirty.  Get the peach to the inner city kids killing themselves with Krispy Kremes.  Get the peach to the 22-year-old mother of three living off welfare checks, dependent on the Bargain Market in the strip mall.  Do that – and I don’t know how you do – and you’ve really got something.  Otherwise, you’re just shoveling horseshit for rich people. [And with that, Julie modestly descends from her soapbox.] 7:52:15 AM    comment []