Trader Joes like yesterday's news

One of the bum things about living in San Francisco is how granola everybody is. ( I know, you thought I was going to say the fog but that isn't it. I like the fog. It adds some poignancy to my angst. ) Everybody thrifts, recycles, walks/ bikes/ uses public transport whenever possible as a bare minimum--and most do more. This means that you cannot impress anybody by tying a ratty scarf around your hair and saying, "Oh yeah, I'm totally into the environment." If you say you're into the environment around here, you'd better be nurturing a flock of compost-eating worms in a garbage pail under your kitchen sink. People like me who go the semi-biodegradable-but-still-mercifully-disposable-diapers route can't exactly advertise it.

But there are larger still consequences to this green frenzy. My biggest problem since moving here is that my whole repertoire of Trader Joe's fancy menu items has gone right out the window. In Chicago I wooed many a dinner party with a white bean dip drizzled with almond oil. I impressed my guests in Falls Church, Virginia with edamame hummus and green olive tapenade. Here? They've eaten in all. Apricot stilton on stone wheat crackers and chocolate-chipotle macadamias are like pigs-in-a-blanket and oreos with milk--nothing special. I have people to feed all weekend and not the faintest clue what to cook.