Dore once asked me how to buy vegetables. I gave him one rule: they have to look happy. The state of happiness is not to be confused with largeness in size and uniformity. I’m dubious about bloated apples and giant beets. I wonder why all the eggs in my carton look the same. What kind of hens lay eggs that are so consistent in size and color? How are tomatoes manipulated during their growth so they can be fitted into plastic trays like buttons?
Happiness is defined by the presence of an energetic pulse, not the lack of blemish on the appearance. Happiness does not stack well. It tends to stretch out and take up space. It has individuality and it is contagious. When I find myself smiling in front of a vegetable I must consider taking it home and eating it. Ingesting happiness? Yes, why not?
