The Curse of the Locavores Is Upon Us

This is the time of year we all face the horror of what the locavore fanatics have wrought. Here in the Northeast in the fall, for instance, “locally sourced food” apparently begins and ends with . . . . winter squash. If you’ll forgive the expression, blecch! From now until springtime, there will be no end to the ways restaurants in town will invite us to consume butternut squash and pumpkin.  Heaven help us. A few years back, one place here I’d rather not name concocted a “pumpkin lasagna” that was especially awful and for some reason stayed on the menu through Easter. It’s as if we’ve all agreed to pretend that transcontinental rail shipping and refrigerated box cars don’t exist. Worse, though, are the novelty autumn cocktails that seem to be popping up. “Tennessee Cider,” with apple cider, maple syrup, and a cinnamon stick garnish sounds especially unpleasant. . . .

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