On Tuesday, after one short month as CSA coordinator, I became a corrupt official. What can I say? There’s something in the air in Hoboken. Farmer Rich instituted a “swap/take one” bin, and I did not swap. I took one. A gorgeous bunch of rainbow chard. The only one of its kind. Hours before the other members were allowed to pick up their shares. And I’m not even sorry.
Yesterday afternoon, for a snack, I ate it. All. Sauteed with a shallot in a little butter (instead of olive oil, in honor of the brand new, happily titled blog Eat More Butter by Diana Pappas and Jamie Paxton) and liberally sprinkled with grated pecorino. I didn’t share it with anyone, I hadn’t prepared it – or even washed the greens – earlier, and there were no microwaves, boxes or non-compostable trash of any kind involved. (I’ll be honest here, I don’t yet have a compost pile – but see how I know what you can put in one?) This kind of snacking, so un-American as to be borderline felonious in its own right, is not new for me; I was the girl making pasta with olive oil for a snack in high school. But now that I bear daily responsibility for other humans and also like to get out once in a while, life sure would be easier I could learn to love a diet coke and two-point-five-serving-size bag of soy chips as much as the next girl. Alas.
All of which got me thinking, at the risk of self-aggrandizement, that my little pile of chard joy may be one of history’s oddest, least marketable snacks – and that these days, there might be a certain pride factor in that. Or, hopefully, that it’s not so historic at all, and that other people snack this way in secrecy all the time. So in an effort to find out, and to quickly up the Yankee Doodle Dandy factor of this blog before the FBI starts tracking it, I’m turning this little inquiry into an official contest. If there are any actual entries, there may even be an actual prize.
Umami girl is pleased to announce the first annual Queer Snack Awards. Please share your grittiest examples of snacking off the radar – from chewing on leaves of homegrown mint plucked from the garden to sidling up to the fridge to enjoy the burn from a bite or six of raw radish. (Yes, these are both real entries from before the contest became official – perhaps better known as misappropriated snippets of conversation with now-former friends.) As long as your snack didn’t come from a box, anything goes. Let’s hear it!