It happens to me about once a week. I need to rinse some produce, but my colander is indisposed–maybe it’s in the dishwasher, maybe it’s filled with flecks of dried-on spaghetti–don’t judge. So I plop my fruit/veggies into a bowl, fill that with water, then try to do this whole “strain the contents through my hand” maneuver.
Then some glorious ramp/cherry/kale hybrid that only grows in the mists of Fiji water–the bottled stuff, of course, dumped into a retention pond off an organic farm–sneaks past my fingers into the orifice of my sink’s drain. And while I recognize that this rampcherrykale was grown in a literal pile of excrement (and hopefully the best excrement that grass-fed cows had to offer), seeing it strike my recently cleaned sink just feels stomach-churning. Anything could have been poured down that drain in the history of this apartment–even grass-fed cow excrement!
By the time I’m done rinsing, I’ve lost upwards of $500 in rampcherrykale. I slice the remaining two stems (~$745 worth) into bowls and toss them with a splash of rice vinegar. Then I steam some fresh corn, open some wine, and go on some long-winded Michael Pollanian decree about how this is all any of us really needs, this most intentionally humble of meals. Assuming there was “enough wine,” I go to bed filled with the satisfying smugness that no stuffed-crust pizza can provide (pending a small voice in my belly saying, “It’s okay, my fragile soldier, tomorrow is pizza and wing night”).
All of this could have been avoided if I’d acquired this $15 bowl with a built-in strainer that pivots forth like the faceguard on a knight’s helm to protect my precious rampcherrykale. But, you know, then I would have never allowed myself to order that delicious pizza. With the wings.