An Inconvenient Goof

I had no idea I was such a goddamned food snob until it snowed last night, leaving an icy patch outside my front door. Ordinarily, I have a large stock of ice melters at this time of year. But this year, global warming lulled me into a false sense of security.

Table salt is always a good standby when you're caught short, if you have any. Apparently, at some point in the last few years I decided that ordinary salt was not good enough for the likes of me. It seems I now only stock a selection of artisanal sea salts. Some of the bottles are actually signed by the salt raker who harvested them. ??? When did I become this person?

If you walk up my front steps today, please pause any breathe in the aroma of sea salt naturally dried and hand raked in France's Camargue region, then smoked over chardonnay chips from a prominent winery. Later, I will be caulking windows with wasabi paste. Or a chipotle coulis from Taos.