The routinely ridiculous New York Times has an article today, Dinner at the Foodies': Purslane and Anxiety, about performance anxiety that hosts feel when inviting guests over to dinner. It has the predictable New Yorkers making the predictable dash about the island (and beyond!) to keep from falling behind in the wars of culinary one-upmanship. It contains the following precious line from a history professor:
There is a specific cachet that only a fiddlehead fern can convey.
It is therefore with the greatest glee that I report that last night, we had a foodie friend over for dinner and the casual meal we tossed together at the last minute consisted primarily of...fiddlehead.
I feel so superior right now.
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