If there had been a real famine
Sooner or later, every cook runs out of staples. Not the metal variety, because the bindery should be separate from the kitchen. Think basic food groups. This morning, just as my calendar indicated that stuffing the hens was up for an urgent activity, I realized that my larder serves more than me. The house was essentially a rice-free zone.
I have a penchant for filling the season roasters with a mix of pork and rice. Anything to avoid breadcrumbs. The meat was already prepped, but my other essential ingredient was gone. Only an empty plastic container remained. No matter; the city is rich in retail. Given that everyone else was asleep, I headed off to buy a bagful, without due care and calendar consultation. Errors in planning do come back to bite the empty hand.
Unlike every other civic holiday in recent memory, the food stores were shuttered. Not even the mythical “four employee” rule will save me this year. The provincial government has amended the act that deals with people purchasing food at odd moments of the month. I tried the pharmacy (that also does staples). Empty. This is a day unlike any other.
Now, all was not in vain, because the nearby gasoline dispenser also had a box of Minute Rice on the tiny counter. Expensive stopgap measure; I could have fed the hungry of a third world village for what passed as fair pricing in a pinch. My birds have since been smothered in fake gravy and eaten, and tomorrow I will run, not walk, to the supermarket for a big bag of grains. No more holiday emergencies will be tolerated.
