It’s been nine months since I stopped reading the local paper and several years have passed from listening to public radio. My daily information comes from The New York Times, BBC online, WERS, London Review of Books, and Times Literary Supplement. The result is that I feel gloriously alienated from routine life, and create a kind of structure based on observations and experience. As far as I’m concerned, Boston is Roxbury, most people I meet are mentally ill and in hospitals or homeless, and food comes from a wholesale grocer or in the mail.
The best food writing nowadays is in the Business section of The New York Times and then on occasion on the op-ed page of the paper.
Today’s stories, respectively, were about chickens.
We’re back to chickens.
Nicholas Kristof wrote today about horrifying conditions on egg farms. In the Business section of the same paper, an article described the huge percentage of chickens (48%) that have tested for E Coli. Even if you don’t eat eggs, you do eat bread and cake, don’t you?
Personally, and here I must speak so, eggs and chickens are not really daily requirements. Certain restaurants note on their menus, “a farm fresh egg,” even noting the name of the farm, but who cares? Especially when the dish is 12 bucks. Or so.
No, I think it’s best to stay home, boil that salted water, add dried pasta, and make a good, simple red sauce.