Project Progress Report or Not much Progress at all…

Since declaring my food buying moratorium two weeks ago, I have been fed, and have dined away from home, more in the last week than all of last year.

I find this parody so fascinating, that I am tempted to try this with my withering romantic life. You may see a sign on my house:

Eligible and desirable bachelors— Stay away.

I can hear my doorbell and phone ringing non-stop already.

Or maybe it is my smoke alarm, triggered by an overheating dinner.

I rarely go out to eat, partly to save money. As well, I prefer my own food to that which is available elsewhere, as I know it is healthier. Unexpectedly, I found myself eating out almost every day of the week. I guess this is the Universe’s way of reassuring me that there is an abundance of nourishment available. Such irony…. If this continues, it may be September, rather than June, when I have finally foraged my way through my food stash, down to the crumbs.

I enjoy breaking bread with others, (muffins too), but usually on my own turf. I am pleasantly surprised that I was able to stay on course with my food preferences, meet new folks, mingle, and enjoy myself in unfamiliar contexts. I hardly had time to blog, but my tummy sang arias of satisfaction, and my heart could hardly keep up with all the socializing.

My folks took me out to a local restaurant, and it was a treat to eat vegan food without having had to prepare it. I enjoyed the leftover cauliflower wings for lunch the next day. Sunday, I dropped into a church where a friend was playing the music, and was pleasantly surprised that part of their fellowship includes sharing a pot luck meal after the service. Fortunately for me, there were a couple vegan dishes which a woman, whom I’d just met, pointed out.

For three days I helped a friend facilitate a workshop for staff at SUNY Geneseo. Lo and behold, they provided a smorgasbord buffet of food choices each day. They definitely know about Food Justice. After all, this is a college campus. I learned that term over a huge vat of tofu scramble and spiced black beans, and appreciate the intent of the phrase. Everyone should be able to find food they can eat, with ease.

On my way out the door from the seminar, I’d self consciously grabbed and stashed a handful of single serving packets of honey into my purse. I’d used up all my honey a couple weeks ago, and my guests like sweetening their tea. I do enjoy playing the accommodating hostess. I must have been channeling the ancestral blood of my Grandma Klee, who was not comfortable with scarcity. On her way home from dining in the restaurant, she’d snatch packages of unopened oyster crackers, mustard, ketchup, sugar, anything that might be useful, in spite of the fact that she lived in a snazzy home for seniors, where she ate regularly.

I’ve been invited to join members of the Rochester Vegetarian Meetup Group tomorrow for Ethiopian fare, which is hard to resist. I’d choose good food with good company any day. Sure beats eating leftovers at home solo.

As for the goal of emptying my larder, I absolutely have not made much progress. Actually, it seems that my freezer is even fuller than a week ago. My friend, Loekie, who recently has been experimenting with vegan recipes, has been making gobs of food which she shares and trades with me. How lucky am I! Tomorrow, I may thaw and crack open a container of her mushroom Bourguignon or leek, mushroom risotto. Then I can refill her containers with some culinary experiments of my own.

I did notice a moment of hesitation, self awareness, and mini-misery the other night. I’d gone to the basement to grab a can of coconut milk for the squash veggie curry I’d planned to serve a friend. I’d thought there were half a dozen, but this was the last container. As I considered an upcoming hiatus of tropical creamy smoothies, no more rich Thai curried soups, a reprieve of sumptuously decadent puddings, I felt a brief wave of sadness. I decided Jude is worth it, opened the can, and poured it over the skillet of cooked veggies. However, I did choose to use only half an onion, saving the remainder in the frig. I only have two left in my basket, and onions seem like an important staple. June is a long way off.

When I related my brief dilemma to Jude, she asked, “What will you do when you run out of oil?” I enthusiastically replied, “Be creative.”

I suspect she may appear in a month or two with a gift of grease, and if I am lucky, maybe even a can or two of coconut milk. Preferably, not the light version, as I like the full fat version, and preferably, without preservatives.

Should the delivery happen, I will be grateful.