Thank you for your input on Brown on Brown, a challenge I faced just today...and failed again. Today I want to share the Chikfilagate I started with my city council. Here's what happened: I went to some community meetings on the weekend, including a "Coffee with the Council" where citizens chat with their council over a cup of coffee. In reality, it was a bunch of seasoned complainers complaining their same complaints which had more to do with the format than the people involved. Anyway, there was real, actual coffee involved, which I noted came from Chikfila containers. (If you do not know, Chikfila is this fast food chain with an evangelical mission and the worst advertisements in the history of the world so I always avoid them, always) and pastries, Otis Spunkmeyer's muffins type pastries. It was fine, I am never one to criticize free food. But during the meeting I got more and more incensed - hey, if this was city money, why weren't they buying from local independent Durham businesses? Supporting them monetarily and promoting them in the community at large?
So I wrote to the city council suggestion box last night, asking if they would consider purchasing local coffee and pastries for their next meetings in March. I provided a list of said businesses. And lo and behold, a council member forwarded it on their purchasing committee this morning. And this is what she said in an e-mail back to me:
"I purchased the coffee at a local Chikfila and the pastries at a local Wal-mart. We always use local stores for our catering."
Which is when I laughed kinda hysterically for ten minutes and then wrote back:
"Not to press the point too hard, but I was referring to local independent business, not national chains that happen to be in our locale."

After more back and forth and forwards, they are taking my comments under consideration. And I feel only a little bit like an over-privileged yuppie freak.

Happy Mardi Gras! It wasn't so happy yesterday morning when I was mixing up the beignet batter for AH's potluck as a crazy toddler ran around my legs, the kitchen was in shambles, I was half-dressed, and words were exchanged, harsh words along the lines of "why the hell did you choose freaking beignets for your potluck dish? I hate you right now" Beignets involved making yeast dough, rising it overnight, deep roiling oil and a powdered sugar blizzard. Sometimes I wonder why we just can't pick up a dozen doughnuts on the way to a potluck and call it good. I am giving up culinary over ambition for Lent, I think.