Month: May 2010

I got the impression, as I was sifting through the scads of comments on my post about my freakishly small veins, that some readers might come away with the impression that I was “strong” or “brave”.

Alas. That is not the case.

I didn’t mention that the second nurse passed on the foot vein because I was shaking so bad and doing some really unattractive deep breathing exercises. I don’t know what it is, medical shit fucks me up. I see empty vials and I feel woozy. Needles bring on heart palpitations. The clanky sound of a speculum being wound out literally makes me cry.

One time during sophomore year of high school, my biology teacher started talking about horse serum, and I found I couldn’t grasp my pencil. My lab partner forced me to go to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. When I looked in the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. You know that scene in ET when the poor little bastard is face-down in the river? That’s what I looked like, all pale and translucent.

Why am I such a wuss? My mom thinks it’s because I had a bunch of invasive stuff done when I was a wee lass…stomach pumped twice (once I ate rat poison, another time a peach pit), tubes in my ears, surgery to remove calcium deposits in my thumb, yadda yadda. She cites the time she had to take me along to a Lamaze class that she was teaching, and when I saw on the reel-to-reel film a dude in green scrubs, I pointed at the screen and said, “Dat bad daddy hurted me!”

All right. I’ll buy it. But I’m 34! When am I going to get over this bullshit?

Not today, apparently. When the nurse tied the rubber tourniquet around my upper arm and inserted the needle, and I could hear a sound emanating from my elbow not unlike the sound Hannibal Lecter made after he said he ate some guy’s liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti, I broke into fits of ridiculous, weepy giggles.

Not cool, Ame.

Week 1 CSA update!  Are you all aflutter?  (I mean everyone besides you, Margo.)

My goals in paying too much money for weekly, non-negotiable produce:

1. Support local business.
2. Support sustainable agriculture.
3. Have a constant supply of vitamins, minerals, and fiber.
4. Be forced to try things I won’t pick up in the grocery store or farmers’ market because I’m scared of them.
5. Learn to cook vegetables.
6. Give my money to people whose political beliefs are diametrically opposed to mine. (OK, that wasn’t really a goal, but I’m one of those people who adds tasks to my to-do list even after I’ve completed them, just so I can cross things off.)

First impression: that does not look like $25 of produce to me. I mean, they call this a family-of-four box. Maybe, they meant a family of four smurfs. (Oh my god, ‘smurfs’ does not show up as wrong on spellcheck…but ‘spellcheck’ DOES!)

Here’s what I got: a bag of mesclun, some baby bok choy, six baby turnips, eight radishes, some rainbow swiss chard (I think), and a little bit of butterhead letttuce or baby green romaine (I’m not sure which). Are radishes $15 a pound these days?

Anyway, the cooking. Have I mentioned that I’m a complete idjit when it comes to my stove? My parents both cook delicious foodstuffs; my siblings, also very talented with a spatula. I don’t know, I guess I just never had to prepare meals.

Well! I. Am. Cooking.

And by that, I mean, I. Have. Cooked. Three. Times.

First up, bok choy, sauteed in butter and olive oil with garlic and soy sauce—delicious!

Next, rainbow swiss chard (I think) and radishes, prepared same as above (did you know you could cook a radish?!?!)—magnifique!

Tonight, baby turnips…well, I tried to braise them…ended up—let’s call it—burnaising them. But whatever, butter and brown sugar! Yum!

The mesclun…ick. Made a salad with pineapple and cheese, but the lettuce is so bitter! I think I’m going to have to throw it out.

There you have it. I’ve pretty much killed my first week’s box with four meals. That don’t seem right.