The Culinary Cross-Culturalism of Trader Joe's

Last night. Post-work, post-yoga (wherein I pulled a hamstring). Needed something fast. Gotta have the flavor. Of course, my kitchen is stocked with various and sundry Trader Joe's items. I don't have a problem with out-of-the-box eating, since it's better than out-of-the-drive-through-window eating—sometimes life is just too frantic to make osso bucco. (The sodium content and non-local sources of these packaged items is another issue. Hey, I'm no saint.)

Thus, my dinner was pistachio-currant studded Cous Cous (pre-mixed, in a box, just add water) and a vegetable egg roll (pull from the freezer and reheat). A random collision of Middle-Eastern mini pasta and bastardized-for-American-palates Chinese.

This got me to thinking about how weird this dinner would have been to my grandmother. Cooking for two boys and her lieutenant colonel husband in the 1950s, these items would have seemed exotic to an extreme. Especially the Cous Cous.

For me, they're just quick eatin'.