One benefit, unexpected, is that when I revert to an ordinary rushed everyday home meal, my son rejoices and asks for seconds, instead of pushing it around on his plate and murmuring "I'm just not that crazy about spaghetti."
"Nothing is local? Nothing is organic? Just regular normal food?"
Yup. Just plain old spaghetti with a half a jar of canned sauce dumped on top, and some Kraft Parmesan, um, er, well, they call it cheese.
Oh yeah. The butter on the white bread toast (white bread purchased specifically for soothing the wild teenage beast). Tillamook. Local.
"You can buy local butter?" he said. "Really?"
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