PETE:
LOLLLLLL
PETE:
yeah not me haha, i will happily eat carbs under any moon—waning gibbous, waning crescent, whatever. bread’s still bread
PETE:
i am allergic to strawberries tho
BEN:
Duly noted, but since they’re months out of season and not associated with fall we should be good
PETE:
that’s why i didn’t mention it, lol. you?
BEN:
Do I eat bread under a waning gibbous? Not usually, but I wouldn’t say it’s a hard and fast rule. Why?
PETE:
lolol no, the allergy thing
PETE:
should’ve asked before i made you that sandwich the other day tbh
PETE:
other than your finger allergy, lol, that one i’ve got
BEN:
Oh! No, not really
BEN:
Technically I’m supposed to avoid too much acid but that’s not an allergy, it just messes my stomach up a little, no big deal
PETE:
gotcha. i solemnly swear to go light on vinegar.
PETE:
please don’t test me by getting tomatoes tho
PETE:
october tomatoes need to be drowned in vinegar, okay, i don’t make the rules
Ben looks up from his phone, startled. He’s been wandering around in a bit of a daze for the last few minutes, grabbing things and dropping them in his basket almost at random between messages; he should take stock, probably, since time is relatively short. Instead, he takes a breath, trying to work out why he feels abruptly but profoundly off-kilter. He doesn’t even know why he mentioned the acid thing—it’s not like Ben’s stomach’s tendency to turn his constant churn of stress into a series of inconvenient ulcers is relevant to Pete in any way—or why it should make himfeel so odd, now, for Pete to respond like this. Ben’s own parents can’t seem to keep track of it, constantly plopping down plate after plate of things drizzled in thick balsamic or drenched in a tomato sauce so well-reduced that, digestion-wise, it might as well be lemon juice.
In the end, he leaves the texts unanswered, mostly because when he half glances over his basket, he realizes there is an eggplant inside of it. An eggplant, of course, is a wonderful choice for dinner tonight,in the first full week of October, when the very last in-season specimens are still waiting to be taken home. Still, something about it itches at the back of Ben’s brain, sets off the shrill, insistent warning alarm he associates with a mistake in progress. The production calendar seems to swim before his eyes, superseding the lemons and limes he’s standing in front of for a moment. It’s not a good idea to shop for what’s in season tonight, because the video goes to S&P tomorrow and posts a week from now, at the earliest. So Ben should be grabbing ingredients that will be in season for thebackhalf of the month, when people will actually be watching the video.
