On Vegetables

I STILL can't make myself buy the right amounts of vegetables and then use them correctly--or in a timely fashion--when I get them home. It's so frustrating. I can't figure out a limit of vegetables I can actually cook or eat in a week, or I tell myself that I'll overcome that limit when I'm actually buying the vegetables so I should get more. When the truth is I've NEVER looked in the fridge, hoping for vegetables, realized that I was out, and sighed and eaten macaroni and cheese instead. I have often put aside fresh vegetables in order to eat mac and cheese, however, and then been surprised when my vegetables turn to sludge in my crisper.

A whole pound of fresh asparagus sat for two weeks, until I roasted it. And it’s now roasted, covered with olive oil and sea salt and smoked salt, and still going bad in a plastic bag in my refrigerator. Maybe I should just admit to myself that I don’t much like asparagus—or maybe that I just don’t like the idea of it. I eat it if served to me, and I enjoy it thoroughly. But in my own refrigerator it loses its appeal. Why? Who knows?

I do like spinach, though, and have I bought that? No. And potatoes, and onions and garlic, and sunchokes, and all manner of dark leafy greens, or lighter salad ones, and peppers of all kinds (especially roasted, yum) and tomatoes—even bad ones—and all sorts of other veggies, yet I’m stopping myself from buying more until I eat the damn roasted asparagus. Phooey.