No more store, day 20

Monday was, like, some holiday or something. I dunno. I worked all day, except for one hour I took off to walk to a friend’s house down the street from the kitchen (ahhh, not the kitchen, the SHOP), where I ate almost all of the glorious delicious sautéed local veggies that were probably meant to be eaten not by one vegan, but by the entire large group of omnivores and veggies as accompaniments to their USA! USA! USA! local grassfed we-moved-here-from-Brooklyn-two-years-ago-don’t-you-just-love-it-up-here-our-son-loves-the-Waldorf-school burgers.

Aww, Lagusta, how mean are you? You get invited to a party and make fun of the guests? Seriously, everyone was super duper lovely, and what’s wrong with moving up here from Brooklyn? Everyone should move up here from Brooklyn! The Waldorf school truly is lovely! And so was everyone at the party, it was an interesting group of artists and cool types. Nice peeps, no need to get all weird about local burgers and whatnot. It’s weird being out in New Paltz these days though, because I’m now in this bizarro place where, like, everyone in town freaking knows me because of the shop. So I feel an obligation to be all…I don’t know, sane and nice and businessey all the time. I think this will fade in time. I hope. (Maybe it’s why I now feel the need to talk about masturbating on ye olde blog?)

Anyway, I ate almost all of that huge platter of veggies not only because my pal N is an amazing cook (she’s one of those people who makes everything look effortless—her rad style, her artsy life, her cooking, even her kids are lovely. It is pretty unbelievable—but because you know how everything tastes better when someone else made it? (Does this only happen to chefs? When we’re not super snotty about how we make the best food ever, we’re exhausted and are dying to eat something we haven’t touched.) I was having some of that happening.

But before the party, I had toast, with bread from the farmer’s market, and jam I’d traded for chocolates at The Cheese Plate, which is the cheese shop where I sell my chocos.

Sourdough bread = random giant huge holes sometimes.


Oh wait, I forgot to tell new readers (??? ha!) that why I’m writing this all down is that I’m not going to the store for a month and you can see why here. I’m allowing myself farmer’s markets though, which means that I’m pretty much cheating all the time. This challenge is ludicrously easy…or, well, it was, until today, Wednesday, when I RAN OUT OF CASHEWS. Now begins the tough times, friends.

But back to Monday.

I ate a lot of blueberries and gooseberries, pictured yesterday, and for dinzo I had more of yesterday’s miso soup, this time with somen noodles.

I also got a lot of work done. Not a bad way to celebrate my country, or whatevs.


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