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The good news is: I succeeded in purchasing enough groceries to feed myself for the week, under budget, and with all local food. The bad news is: I'm broke. First, the tale of good news. After my kind of depressing experience of winging it with Safeway, I decided to tackle this week's groceries with a few recipes planned using overlapping ingredients, getting the bulk of the produce at farmer's markets, and picking up any remainder at Shoppers Corner or New Leaf or anywhere else that specializes in carrying California food. Circumstances kept me from attending the markets downtown or the Westside, so I settled for Sunday's market in Live Oak, where I was only able to purchase some butter lettuce and a few herbs (basil and mint) for my back-to-back Thai nights (one with leftover chicken, one with leftover tofu). I spent $3.50 out of my wallet, which left grocery money intact, but left me feeling inadequately prepared for a week's worth of eating. I hope it's just an early season malaise, but the Live Oak markets are definitely the thinnest of any I've been to in the county. Live music and gyro stands don't make up for a paltry selection of produce. After following the experience up with a day of art and chocolate (several Live Oak artists had opened their home studios for art viewing, and I took advantage of this fact to keep both my girlfriend and my taste buds occupied for the afternoon), I stumbled upon a place I'm ashamed to admit I've never visited before -- Capitola Produce.
This is an unabashed free plug. It's like an indoor farmer's market open every day, with quality produce on all the racks and shelves, most of it California grown. I was able to complete my ingredient needs, plus pick up a loaf of bread (the one I got at Safeway molded from disuse) for $8, even though I had allotted $20 for the markets. The only ingredient I needed that wasn't stocked was lemongrass, and the employee I asked was absolutely crestfallen that he couldn't accommodate me. "A lot of people ask for that," he said. "What do you use it for?" "Thai food, I guess," I replied, that being the limit of my knowledge about lemongrass. "Well, I'll talk to the owner and we'll have it here for you next time," he said, and I believe him. I topped it off with a trip to Shoppers at which I was able to afford not only the rest of my ingredients (including a nice steak) but some indulgent extras: a gallon of Santa Cruz Organic apple juice, pastrami from San Francisco, and organic California cheddar. The only purchase that wasn't local (i.e. from this state ... I realize the jelly from Humboldt is stretching the definition of 'local' but I'm trying) was the biggest indulgence of all, which came when I realized I still had $6 to spend and plenty of food for the week: a six-pack of Cooper's Pale Ale from Australia. Maybe it was the $1 cookie that began the avalanche of self-indulgence, contrary to my mini-resolution to spend unto others, but I couldn't resist the Cooper's at that price. I lived in Australia for two years, and Cooper's (mostly the red label) was the only beer that kept me sane while there. Bartenders have a quirky tradition of rolling the bottle before pouring it, and it's considered the ne plus ultra of Aussie swill. Anyone who's tried it will raise an eyebrow, but that's because most people don't realize just how terrible Australian beer is. You need good water to make good beer, and if there's one thing that desert continent lacks, it's water, so most of the beer there -- Toohey's, Victoria Bitter, XXXX -- tastes like it's made from brackish butter. (Don't say anything about Fosters; it's brewed in Canada.) Cooper's might not be delicious, but it's palatable, and that was enough for me. Armed with beer, I craved burgers (another indulgence), so I made them with an egg, some magic meat powder (kind of white, probably full of salt and onion dust), and fresh basil leaves (why not?). They were okay. A bit greasy. But I was happy. *** Today, after another demoralizing loss in softball (the company team is winless in Capitola so far, in case any sports reporter from the Sentinel is reading this and wants to update the Semi-Competitive E League standings), I joined the team for a post-game commisseration beer at Castaways. I bought a Budweiser for $4 including tip, thinking, eh, I've still got plenty of green in my wallet. (I started the day with a whopping $12). On the way home, the taste of the previous night's burger and the Bud combined to make an evil craving in my belly for Jack in the Box. Without thinking, I pulled into the drive-thru and ordered an Ultimate Bacon Burger meal with a medium Coke for $6.71. Thousands of empty calories and bland bites later, I am virtually broke. For the first time all month, my wallet has less than $2 in it ... $1.59 to be precise. What drives this insatiable turn back to habit? What took me, in one day, from a life of farmer's markets and bicycle commutes to a binge eating drive-thru? Why does indulgence feed upon indulgence? When I told Veronica, she immediately brought me back to the cookie. One dollar spent on my frivolous needs led precipitously to the destruction of everything I'd built up. There was another factor as well. I need my car downtown for the occasional trip to a political rally or spontaneous interview, but doing the parking lot shuffle near work didn't seem worth it when I was commuting by bike, so I parked it where my girlfriend could get to it and at least get some use from it, near the Louden Nelson Center. The parking there is technically timed as well, with permits only allowed at night, but the enforcement seems so lax -- and the parking so plentiful -- that neither of us paid the signs any mind. Today, I got my first pink slip in a month, for $40. That's 20 days of allowance. That is, in fact, $8 more than I'm allowing myself to spend for the rest of the month. Now, there's enough grace period in the 21 days to allow me to pay this in June and still be on time, but I'm still dejected that a simple experiment in frugality could be brought down by the twin forces of reckless parking (for I do, according to the posted and well-marked signs, deserve the fine) and lifelong junk food habits. To top it off, my Credit Card B statement arrived today, and for some reason, it wants a minimum payment of $645 this month by May 23. The balance has climbed to more than $11,000. I'm not allowing myself to get razor blades ($12 for a package of Mach 3 cartridges is well outside my means) and yet thousands of dollars still mysteriously leak out of my life. What's another trip to Jack in the Box? What's another parking ticket? What does any of this imaginary money mean, anyway? My mint is wilting. I still haven't eaten the tofu. I can't wait for June, when I can go back to being in denial about all this.
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