Tuesday, April 04, 2006
On Tuesdays I have a morning therapy appointment. My weekly luxury is going to a gourmet grocery store afterwards on my way home. You know the kind of place, 10 varieties of fresh olives, deli meats like onion sage turkey and loaf upon loaf of european cured meats, sparkling like jewels. The most beautiful produce you have ever seen. I can understand how Snow White would be tempted, after seeing such beautiful apples. I imagine that these apples were in the garden of Eden, so of course Adam never stood a chance. Never mind they are like five dollars each, they are individually polished and arranged and look like a picture in a magazine! The butcher counter carries things like stuffed veal breast and chicken pesto sausage. Pork chops thicker than your arm, steaks that look like they came from a 1960's food pyramid handout. Today I couldn't resist the lure of a perfect pork loin roast, that may or may not become tonights dinner (roasted on top of potatoes, carrots, and some anise/fennel bulb also procured from said shop). Artisan breads, displayed in baskets "old world" style. They have the best selection of sourdough's in the city. Their sourdough pumpernickel evokes poetry. Even DH, who views darker breads with suspicion, loves their sourdough pumpernickel! Bins upon bins of fresh rolls, in every shape and description. Muffins the size of your head. Pies that look like grandma baked them. Dangerous place to go if you are hungry! So today, I got my obligatory loaf of bread, some brilliant produce (including some yellow grape tomatoes that are divine...yes, I dipped into them before I was even halfway home), a lovely roast, and of course, a stop at the cheese counter. I love to nibble on different cheeses. My favourite lunch or light meal is a few olives, some marinated or pickled veggies, a bit of good bread, and some interesting cheeses. Brie is my favourite, but I am adventurous in taste. Apart from one mistake imported from France that tasted like decaying flesh, I haven't met a cheese I didn't like. Double cream Brie, something in a wedge called St. Andre, a bit of imported fontina, that should do it. Then something caught my eye. A snow white cheese with reddish streaks. Not port cheddar, or cranberry cheshire. What could it be? I squeezed a piece to judge it's softness. Was it creamy or crumbly? Seemed to have the feel of a goat type cheese. But what are the red streaks? In the middle of my investigation, a huffy clerk took the cheese from my hand and said snidely "CAN I help you?". I blinked a bit, like a person emerging from a cave into the bright sunlight. "Oh. I was wondering what that was. I have never seen it before". She looked me up and down, and cast a glance into my little cart, then back at me. "It's strawberry cream cheese" she anwered, in a tone of voice that suggested she thought I might be somewhat impaired. "Oh, thank you". I startle to giggle nervously. Suddenly I found it very funny, the look she was giving me. I was half expecting her to ask me if Elvis talked to me or something. Giggling was clearly making it worse. "Would you like to purchase it?" she looked over her glasses at me. "No, no thank you" I answered as seriously as I could, which wasn't very. Of course she thought I was insane. I stared and poked at a package of cream cheese for half an hour like I was ready to discover uranium. What did I expect? Have you ever wondered how the you are viewed by the outside world? Well today I got my answer, from a clerk at a cheese counter. And according to her, the world thinks I am a nutjob. Now DD, however, has a different view of me. Monday night she was upstairs, supposed to be washing her hands, but was unusually quiet. This kid is NEVER quiet. I was suspicious so went and checked on her. To find this. She got into my make-up. Which was in the bag I took from the big red dog and put at the back of the closet. And she found when looking for a new hand towel. She said "I wanted to look pretty. Like YOU mommy". Not sure what is scariest. That she might think I look like that with makeup on, or that she thinks hooker makeup is pretty. We are not going to discuss why I own blue cream eye makeup and whore red liptstick. Let's suffice it to say that it was supposed to be the next in thing, everybody was doing it, and I succombed to peer pressure even though clearly none of my actual peers would ever wear shiny blue cream eyeshadow and prostitute lipstick. And if you were wondering, cream eyeshadow slides off your lids and down your face when it is warm outside, or cakes in the creases when it is cold outside. And nobody looks good in that blue, except maybe Twiggy. That's it for today. I have cheese to nibble while finding a new hiding place for my makeup bag.