Restocking cupboards ...

In a former life (which only ended a few months ago), I drove a van. 

Vans make shopping easy.   When going into a store, there is no question like “can I take this shopping cart load of goods home” in the back of my mind.  And it is easy to add into the back of the van, the full shopping carts of a couple of friends as well.  But now that I am down to my little Honda and the three guys who live here want a Costco run (since I am going there anyway) ... now the question of space is foremost in our minds.   

However since there is an engineer, a medical doctor and a philosophy student in the mix, I was sure they could get everything into the car.  I must not have been that sure that we could get everything in, for I only purchased one small package of Laughing Cow Cheese while they were having their Costco spree and laughing about what an adventure it was for them, and how good the process and quantities were.

I was as amused at watching, as they were in buying, filling their carts -- putting their six 24 pop-can cases into the bottom of the car first, and then following that with the cases of tomatoes, packages of slices mushrooms and the bottles of canned pears.  Then two of them sat in the back of the car while the third packed the rest of the groceries around them, packing good to the side of himself in the front seat, and just leaving a little room for me to both operate the gear shift and to see out of the back window.

“What was the advice the counsellor gave you, when you went for family counselling?”, Mak had asked me earlier in the morning.

“I don’t remember both words,” I said, “but I do remember that I was told to try being incompetent”. 

This conversation was in regard to Mak’s previous request that I help him figure out what to do with his bean sprouts that were just on the edge of being passed peak.  A few more hours and they would be absolutely gone.  I agreed to be competent just one last time.  I told him to rinse them in baking soda, and that we would rescue them in some egg foo young.  All the men in the kitchen cooperated in the cooking adventure, and in 20 minutes we had 6 lovely egg foo young pancakes made from an onion, a red pepper, crab meat and 8 eggs.  Oh, and yes, the bean sprouts. 

But that feast wasn’t enough.  We talked about the prime rib elk that Richard had brought over the day before – done in a slow cooker with some broth and garlic – a meal fit for a king.  We had been eating his gift together, investigating the texture of the elk, and the stunning absence of any fat marbling in the sinews.  Only Mati, the vegetarian, had resisted taking a taste.  

“We don’t get it,” we told him.  “The elk has only eaten grass, so in a twisted way, it is all vegetarian.”

“I will take my vegetables in their primary form,” he laughed.  “I am just a simple guy.”

And now no more talk about food ... until there is space in the fridges and cupboards again.