"Going into the Thunderdome, honey," I said to my wife. "We're gonna wash our hands in the bathrooms when we're done, OK? If anybody touches you, spritz 'em with the mace." She didn't think it was that funny.
The Publix was a sea of retirees and kids at vacation homes, inching their carts around each other through Produce in near silence. Tense, unsettling. I suddenly craved Parmesan.
We had no solid plan for weeks of eating. Ours was a more Italian way of shopping- small bags of fresh stuff, every other day, rejoicing in endless trips to the grocery store. Rejoicing in this suddenly changed Publix. You could tell by what was missing and what was stocked that almost none of these people knew how to cook, so we had the advantage. I had a vague plot to make three huge pots of spaghetti pomodoro, and bought the essentials for some Jambalaya, though the chicken thighs were all sold out.
In the rice aisle there was a woman lugging two monster carts in either hand- had to be about $1,000 worth of food. Before I was aware of myself, I took out my phone and snapped a picture of her. My wife was disappointed in me. "I've never done that before," I said, "taking a picture of a stranger like that." I sat for a moment with the slip in my character. I've decided not to post it, even though her face is blacked out, because I desperately seek my wife's approval in everything. [Update: My wife's asleep. Check it out:]
Two cart-mountains. Hoarder sins. It sketched me out.
In checkout a woman in front of us had latex gloves on and set the Saturday Times on top of her smaller load of groceries. We were standing there a while, and I wanted to be her friend.
"Some virus, huh?" I asked her.
"It is what it is," she said, and looked tired.
It wasn't until my wife and I began setting our products on the conveyor belt that we broke the ice. I plunked down a wedge of knock-off American Parmesan. I leaned in and loud-whispered to my wife, "Can you imagine the shortage of Parmesano-Reggiano we're gonna have in a month?"
The lady turned and smiled at us. "Oh God, it's going to be awful," she said. "I can live without a lot, but... UGH!"
I shook my fingers at the sky and savored the moment. After checkout we washed our hands. As I lathered I wondered how many times I unconsciously touched my mouth while we crept through the traffic-jammed aisles. That was Saturday, and I haven't left the house since then.
with a Butternut Squash chaser
Tilapia is a simple fish, easy to make tasty. It comes frozen in bulk and you can eat it for dinner as many nights in a row as you'd like. That's why we call it: "Everyday Tilapia." They had 12 fillets for about $16 at this Publix- I wonder how much it is where you are. I wish, dear reader, that you soon find and/or purchase a big bag of Tilapia. It'll last you a week. If you have a wife, it'll last her a week too.
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| Bobby's been drinking a lot of coffee lately. |
- 2 Tilapia fillets, frozen
- any breadcrumbs, but Panko is best (crush saltine crackers in a pinch)
- Parmesan! Make a necessary exception to your Parmesan snobbery and use the sawdust stuff in the tube. It'll save you the trouble of cleaning up stray shreds from the grater. You've probably had a long day of staying inside, and you're tired.
- Salt, pepper, lime juice squirt, and whatever seasonings you have. Dill is great, and so is thyme, but just give whatever's in your spice rack a sniff and picture "Everyday Tilapia." You might make a groundbreaking new discovery in Tilapia Science.
- Several generous drizzles of robust olive oil- or, "olive erl," in the dialect of South Louisiana, where many of my friends live, stranded in an increasingly dicey New Orleans. I'm worried about 'em, y'all. Give them a shout out in your Grace.
- If you can remember, put the frozen fillets in the fridge for overnight. It tastes a little better, but there ain't nothing wrong with a faster thaw. If you get a big bowl of water and put them in there, they'll be ready in under two hours.
- Preheat the oven to 425.
- It's easy, really. It's everyday. Just follow an Order of Operations to your seasonings:
- oil to coat on both sides (wash your hands again), everything else is on the face-up side of the Tilapia
- salt and pepper, king and queen of spice
- dill and thyme or whatever
- Panko
- Parmesan, interlacing with the Panko dust.
- Bake for 11 minutes or so. It will become opaque and vibrant. It'll taste good. It wasn't hard.
Look over at your wife as she chops the squash. I heard a rumor squash is a great choice for shelf stable produce. It can sit a long time. Make sure you have a peeler- me and wife both made nightmarish messes hacking the oblong skin off with our knives. There were piles of squash droppings all over the cucina, and my wife was not amused. Try to keep your wife amused. There's no telling how long you'll be trapped in one apartment together. While you're at it, try to make some friends on the internet.
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| Stay prepared. |
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