I tried to step it up, managing to throw together a purple potato salad with a hint of panzanella (bread salad). I used purple asparagus too, but can never seem to convince the spears to retain their color—even when I blanch. The recipe I found on smitten encourages ingredient replacement, accounting for the “on-hand” method, so I added toasted stale bread to soak up the excess dressing. However, I’m glad I was able to follow the pickled spring onions portion of the procedure. They were seriously tasty—sweet, tangy, and oniony. I recommend incorporating them into whatever you make next.
Our other food choices have been less austere. Last night, under the glow of ballpark lights, we were eating hot dogs, listening to classic rock, and enjoying fireworks. It was all very new-school American excess. And despite my penchant for old-school fundamentalism, for now, it seems, I have staved off my fear of corporate corruption and interference with my overwhelming need for sticky, sweet, poison-laced cotton candy.
This counts as eating seasonally, right? Surely Michael Pollan has an exception for this sort of thing? Can I help it if I love Kevin Costner baseball movies? This field, this game: it’s a part of our past—and my past includes cotton candy.