Why I Want To Cry When I Realize I'm In a Small Town
Monday, May 29, 2006
"Food is an important part of a balanced diet."
----
Fran Lebowitz
Somebody. Anybody. Kidnap me and take me to a city.
Okay, not really, but let me explain. I live in a small town. Not small enough to not have a Wally World, mind you. Yet, the Wal-Mart that we have is of years of yore, when there were no groceries more than bread and milk, which happens to be the only thing in the store that is refrigerated.
I live in a town where there is more than one main street. That’s a plus. The town shuts down at 8pm. That’s not a plus.
I digress.
I bought a head of cabbage the other day to steam. Since I’ve had a taste for egg rolls, and I’ve been giving too much of my $1.07’s to the Chinese restaurant, I figured I could make my own. How hard could it be? Steam the cabbage to a little under cooked phase, add some stuff, place the mixture into a wonton wrapper, and fry. Simple, right?
Oh, no. Not if you are in a small town. You have to find the wonton wrappers.
I went to the first grocery store, seeking an oriental section. I’m sure there was one, but it was not defined in the aisle banner. You know, that thing that hovers over the aisle to let you know what’s in it? Then I thought that it may be in a cold place. So, I walked the length of the store—produce, up the cold cuts, along the meats, over and around the dairy—without any sight of a wrapper.
To be continued…
----
Fran Lebowitz
Somebody. Anybody. Kidnap me and take me to a city.
Okay, not really, but let me explain. I live in a small town. Not small enough to not have a Wally World, mind you. Yet, the Wal-Mart that we have is of years of yore, when there were no groceries more than bread and milk, which happens to be the only thing in the store that is refrigerated.
I live in a town where there is more than one main street. That’s a plus. The town shuts down at 8pm. That’s not a plus.
I digress.
I bought a head of cabbage the other day to steam. Since I’ve had a taste for egg rolls, and I’ve been giving too much of my $1.07’s to the Chinese restaurant, I figured I could make my own. How hard could it be? Steam the cabbage to a little under cooked phase, add some stuff, place the mixture into a wonton wrapper, and fry. Simple, right?
Oh, no. Not if you are in a small town. You have to find the wonton wrappers.
I went to the first grocery store, seeking an oriental section. I’m sure there was one, but it was not defined in the aisle banner. You know, that thing that hovers over the aisle to let you know what’s in it? Then I thought that it may be in a cold place. So, I walked the length of the store—produce, up the cold cuts, along the meats, over and around the dairy—without any sight of a wrapper.
To be continued…
Labels: Humor, My Writing, Prose
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