Made In The U.S.A.

Oops.

In Adventures on March 24, 2009 at 12:51 am

Sometime this afternoon it occurred to me what I should do for dinner. I decided to pick up my old favorite dish from Lemongrass–the finest Vietnamese restaurant in south St. Louis. It used to be #89. Then it became #92. Now it’s S-7. Whatever the menu calls it, it’s always delicious. Salt and Pepper Shrimp. Mmm.

Yeah, it’s Vietnamese. And I have no idea where those shrimps are from, or the spices, or anything else. But it’s made right here in my neighborhood. That counts. Lay off.

After I emerged from the restaurant with my dinner in hand I decided to splurge and pick up dessert. So I ducked into the Halal market two doors down (on Grand South Grand you can have an Islamic butcher and grocery seperated from a Vietnamese restaurant by the CBGB rock club) to pick up something sweet. I panicked when all I could find was chocolate orange flavored cookies. I’ve dabbled in chocolate/orange before; it is not a flavor combination that suits me.

I found another package (branded sort of like Keebler but from some other shore) and they were banana flavored. Perfect. I’ll get ’em. They were on the counter, rung up, and I was reaching for my dollars when it hit me: these cookies are not from here. I froze. My heart pounded. The cashier looked at me, slightly confused. He saw the dollars in my fingers. I thought fast: I’m buying these here, so aren’t they from here? This isn’t what I’m trying to stop from buying. It’s okay, right? Maybe they are MITUSA.

No. None of that. Damn.

So I stopped. I looked at the seller. “I’m sorry. I just remembered something. Is it okay if I don’t buy these?”

“Sure,” he said.

So I bailed out, hot and redfaced.

Then I bought Oreos. And buying Oreos makes me a better person, right?

Sometimes this project hurts my brain.

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  1. I feel for you, It is tough trying to eat MITUSA. I don’t have the will power you have. Maybe it’s really Bill power!

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