Not grading.

My Day At The Market. (or: How To Get Fat).

I showed up at Pike Place Market with a hankerin' for Cincinati-style chili over spaghetti. When I got there, I remembered they don't have spaghetti, only shells, and I hate shells. So I got my chili over black beans and corn bread, but planned on bringing home a pint so I couldd spaghetti it up myself. Unfortunately, when I looked at the menu, the pint size was over $10. In fact all of their bulk chili prices had gone up, with $450 for 10 gallons. Sheesh. I hope I'm remembering correctly.

So I left the restaurant with my craving satisfied, but without a pint of chili, and I walked over to DeLaurenti for some everyday sprinkling cheese. Of course, I left with $15 worth of a pyranees, reblochon, and some cave-aged gruyere for everyday sprinkling. Oh, and a tube of tomato paste.

The thing about walking in the Market is this; on the weekend, when you're showing your tourist friends around, the Market is a crowded tourist magnet. They want to stroll, and look at the shopping, and you really don't want to feed them there, you want to take them someplace civilized.

But on a rainy weekday in January, the Market is relatively empty, and the temptation of uncivilized food is hard to resist. I stepped out of DeLaurenti and waked straight across the aisle to Daily Dozen Doughnuts (scroll down here for a review) and bought a dozen plain for two dollars. Still warm, with the hole swollen shut.

I went down to Pure Foods to see if they had octopus today; they're renovating and will be back in a couple of weeks. I walked by Jack's Fish Spot without drooling (I was walking fast) and ducked into Post Alley, avoiding Mr. D's Greek Deli, all of that devilment north of it. I stuck my head into Pike Place Chowder; it was packed. I took a look at light switch covers at Milagros, and then left! realizing I had eaten all my doughnuts. So I didn't even look at seasonal fruit or veggies.

Imagine how fat I'd be if I was one of those rich, decadent market dwellers with nothing to do but eat at the market, debate liberal politics with my tax accountant, and live off the interest of my stock holdings. I would be FAT.

Time to grade. Or at least take a shower.