Seattle is a Hippie town. It’s Liberal, it’s health-conscious, it’s environmentally-friendly, and Hummers 
are about as common as facts in a Bush Administration War update. It is also a town which fiercely supports independent establishments and shuns corporate chains. It’s hardly acceptable if a local coffee house or burger joint opens another location in Seattle. If they open one in Redmond or Bellevue, it’s over. And Starbucks is evil.
A few weeks ago, the seasonal farmer’s market opened in our neighborhood, Phinney Ridge. It was typical Phinney: simple, but everything you need. Just being there made us feel healthy and wholesome. Inspired by the fresh garlic and piles of basil, we decided to make fresh potato gnocchi with a basil pesto sauce and lemon-crusted chicken. We got what we could at the market, and then headed off to the grocery store for the rest. Did we go to Fred Meyer or QFC? Hell no. We did it up hippie-style, and went to Whole Foods. We almost always shop at Whole Foods and we feel good about that. They have organic foods, work hard to provide fair trade prices, and provide locally grown produce and humanely raised meats. It makes us feel like we’re helping the animals lead better lives before they’re ruthlessly slaughtered for our meals.
When we came home, we came upon our neighbor lighting his grill on his front porch. Now, I have to say, this guy can make a grill smell so incredibly good that I have on more than one occasion considered stealing the meat off his grill when he’s not looking. Thinking I’d lend an amusing anecdote to the conversation, I told him this. He wasn’t surprised. In fact, he revealed that it has happened before. Breaking the awkward silence after the revelation, Michelle asked him what they were planning on having that evening. “Ribs,” he said.
It appears he had been planning to grill ribs for a few days, and he had run into some difficulty obtaining them at the co-op he and his wife belong to.
They haven’t had the ribs for a while now, and I said to the butcher, ‘What are you doing to me, here? You’re going to make me go to the Dark Side.’ And I did! I had to go to Whole Foods!
He shuddered when he said “Whole Foods” like he had just swallowed stale motor oil. And that, my friends, is what Seattle is all about.
Note: I think my spell checker needs to be trained. The suggested spelling for “gnocchi” is “genocide”.
