waiting for asparagus 33intensive passions with devotedly healthy rations. If this project was go-
ing to impose a burden, she would feel it. And finally, Lily: earnest,
dark-pigtailed persuader and politician of our family who could, as my
grandfather would say, charm the socks off a snake. I had a hunch she
didn’t really know what was coming. Otherwise she’d already be lobbying
the loopholes.
Six eyes, all beloved to me, stared unblinking as I crossed the exotics
off our shopping list, one by one. All other pastures suddenly looked a
whole lot greener than ours. All snack foods come from the land of Oz, it
seems, even the healthy ones. Cucumbers, in April? Nope. Those would
need passports to reach us right now, or at least a California license.
Ditto for those make- believe baby carrots that are actually adult carrots
whittled down with a lathe. And all prewashed salad greens emanate
from California. Even salad dressing was problematic because of all the
ingredients—over a dozen different foods logging their own mileage to
get to a salad dressing factory, and then to us. As fuel economy goes, I
suppose the refrigerated tropicals like bananas and pineapples are the
Humvees of the food world, but multi- ingredient concoctions are sneaky
sports cars. I drew a pencil line through one item after another. “Salad
dressing is easy to make,” I said. The vinegar and oil in our pantry were
not local, of course, but with a small effort, thirty seconds spent shaking
things together in a jar, we could improve the gas mileage of our vinai-
grette. In the herb garden we already had garlic chives and oregano, the
hardiest of the spicy Mediterranean perennials, braving the frosts of late
winter.
We were getting plenty of local eggs too, so in a reckless burst of confi -
dence I promised to make mayonnaise. It’s supposed to be pretty easy. I
had a recipe I’d been saving since my high school French class, waiting
for the right time to try it, because of one irresistible step that translates
as follows: “Whip heartily for two minutes while holding only pleasant
thoughts in mind.”
Back to the grocery list, trying for that positive mindset: a few more
items fell without significant protest. Then I came to block letters in
Camille’s hand, underlined: fresh fruit, please???
We were about to cross the Rubicon.