Herd Panic at the H.E.B.–which might as well stand for “Holy, everything’s bare!” No dairy; no bread; the only remaining produce is chard, acorn squash, fennel, and rutabaga. We saw it with Covid (how quickly we forget!) and we see it again now–a striking disassociation from supply chains. We consume so much without extensive thought of the journey our things take between origin and our possession of them. Our comfort belies the system’s fragility. Outside, we skid across the parking lot ice, occasionally gingerly bracing ourselves on the parked cars of others. One of these has a Cedar Waxwing stuck in the grill–memento of the dozens of birds I saw sluggish on road-shoulders the day prior. But how quickly we forget. That is part of why I write: it helps me remember.
I’ve often contemplated over a meal the seemingly endless list of possible origins of everything at my place setting.