In a pinch we go to a scary little ethnic grocery down the hill in a mall that seems like a magnet for the destitute and sad of Los Angeles. We call it the Asparagus market, because next to it is the Asparagus Pizza joint, which sounds so stomach-turningly awful we figured it has to be money laundering operation.
We stand in line with the homeless, and watch desperate people try to steal really bad liquor. I have been there on two occasions when there were either arrests going on inside the store, or someone collapsed right outside and there were ambulances. It is too dangerous to leave the boys outside, so I always take them in.
But despite the veneer of desperation it is a sweet little store. And over time we fell in love first with the convenience, then the low prices, and now the treasures that hide in their short aisles. First Jonathan found the perfect meat to make Milanesa, just like he had it in Argentina. Divine. I have never seen that pounded beef anywhere else. Then Jonathan found a fajita mix he liked at the butcher.
Last week he came home with the oddest purchase yet: a jar of Cornelian Cherry jam. The ingredients were simple, as if from another place (Armenia perhaps??????) and it turned out the strangely shaped cherries still had pits in them. After I recovered from nearly breaking my tooth I smiled. It was the most delicious jam I have ever had. Soon I was eating it by the spoonful, ignoring bread and butter altogether. I love it. And I find that already, I crave it. (We are leaving for a few days of vacation tomorrow. Will I bring my Cornelian Cherry jam with me? Can I live without it?)
Last time we went Jonathan showed me the secret cache of Armenian jams and I looked through the odd flavors. This time I picked a jar of white mulberry jam. Again, a picture of a fruit I have never seen appeared on the lid. We went home and opened it right away. (No pits!) Oh my sweet God in Heaven! It is like honey and fruit, nectar and ambrosia, all mixed into one.
Now both come out before anything else on our breakfast table.
I find myself eating a lot more toast.
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