In spite of the fact that I have sworn more than once to stop spending absurd amounts of money on hand-made, specialty, and totally unneccesary foods, I find I have already fallen off of the artisanal wagon, so to speak. Yesterday, at the Echo Park Craft Fair, I succumbed. I had brought no cash on purpose, as this gorgeous event provides far more temptation than a person of my constitution can resist. Still, when I tasted the nut brittles of Morning Glory Confections I found myself borrowing five dollars from my sister and purchasing a small box. Five dollars! Tiny quantity! Still, it was worth it, I think. The stuff is really incredibly good.
And at least I didn’t pay $9 for a mason jar of cold-pressed vegetable juice, as so many of my fellow craft-fair patrons did. This was through no virtue of mine, though. The Juice Maids were sold out by the time I got there. Still, nice to know I’m not the only, um, impulsive person out there. I suppose there are those who would insert a different adjective in that last sentence, but I’m trying to be kind.
One thought I did have: if I insert the word “artisanal” before everything expensive I buy, will I feel better about it? Artisanal gas, anyone? Once you think of it that way $4.20 a gallon seems like a steal.