A strangely American Superbowl Sunday
I knew that this Superbowl Sunday would be different after my trip to the
co-op on Sunday afternoon. First of all, they were playing Bruce Springsteen. At the co-op. Not that I have anything against Bruce -- quite the opposite -- but the co-op is the kind of place that's usually playing something like the White Stripes or Stereolab or Miles Davis or Sleater Kinney or ... some kind of world music. The Springsteen seemed a little incongruous with the tempeh and soy milk.
As I thought more about it, though, and I listened to the sad
lyrics of "Born in the USA" ("so they put a rifle in my hands / Sent me off to Vietnam / To go and kill the yellow man") it made more sense. I mean, it's a war protest song and all.*
I continued to go about my shopping, and I was dismayed to realize two things. Thing A: The co-op was out of pita bread. Hmm. They don't usually run out of things... which leads to Thing B: I am a member of a small but identifiable demographic: People Who Shop for Superbowl Parties at the Co-op. And what do those People serve at their Parties? Pita Bread, of course. Most pitas are probably consumed with hummus, I'm guessing, but I made a yummy
white bean dip. Mine was extra lemon-y and extra garlic-y, and I skipped the herbs.
The other food news about the Superbowl was that we made awesome wings in the oven. I'll post the recipe eventually. They rocked. I also made an apple pie. What could be more American than that?
* (Keep an eye out for "Born in the USA" during these presidential campaigns. Crowds love to sing along to the chorus but they seem to tune out during the verses. ("I had a brother at Khe Sahn fighting off the Viet Cong / They're still there, he's all gone."))
Snips and Snails and Exploding Whales
Have you already 'experienced' the recent
exploding whale? Make sure to catch that last paragraph.
(I mention that it's the
recent exploding whale, so as to distinguish it from that
other exploding whale. Don't miss the
video.)
