The Terrorists Are Winning…

…when you can’t get a fucking spinach salad.


So I am aware that there is an ongoing issue of foodborne illness surrounding spinach, thanks to the insane farming practices Americans use that actually foster drug resistant microbes that kill us. I know that large amounts of spinach were pulled from the market, but I assumed that since the contaminated batch had been taken out of circulation that spinach would, once again, be obtainable.

So on Wednesday I checked the Farmer’s Market. Buy local!

No spinach. Hrm.

Tonight, I went to Harvest, and not only had the salad mix been replaced with an offensive and foul looking iceberg mix, but there was no spinach. To be had. Anywhere. In fact, all of the produce in Harvest looked like shit. I had a hell of a time finding anything I wanted to eat because it was all soft, moldery, wilted, and gross. Apparently our entire produce system has broken down. Seriously. I mean, Harvest produce has never been tops, but usually I can find something. No. The asparagus was wooden, slimy, and pathetic. The artichokes were bristly and weedy looking. Tomatoes, squishy to the touch. Limes, impossible to obtain. Green onions, actually mushy. I scoured the produce section, over turning peaches hard as stones and molding berries–no dice.

So I called the Bistro, in the hopes that, culinary rebels as they are, they might have a line on some black market spinach and they could hook me up.


Not a single delicious, iron rich leaf of spinach to be had for love or money in the entire city of Fort Bragg, apparently.

Have we all gone collectively insane, as a society? Are we not aware of the facts of life? Are we really so terrified of some puny ass microbe pieces of shit that we’re willing to forgo spinach for an indefinite amount of time?

You know what, fuck this. Seriously. Anyone, anywhere, have a top secret spinach hookup? I promise I won’t report you. I just want some goddamn spinach. I don’t want no frozen soggy oversalted spinach, I want fresh spinach quivering with life, luscious and green, full of nutrition.

My dad’s garden is all spinached out, sadly, and so are my other usual sources for produce. I don’t know where to turn for my spinach fix, but I am jonesin’. A pox on industrial agriculture.