Last year, I read about a Native American tribe whose home village is near the edge of a mesa. For centuries, whatever refuse they had, they would just toss over the edge. And that was fine. In a natural human environment, where anything you might use (or indeed, ever encounter) was entirely natural and almost all of it organic (having grown in the ground or water, or having grown up eating what grew in the ground or water), anything you tossed down there would be food for something else—from vultures to coyotes to ants—and quickly and efficiently dispatched. Optimal system; worked great.
Of course now that the tribe has adopted our dominant culture’s notion of “progress,” suddenly their system ain’t workin’ so well. Now, there is a growing mountain of garbage, creeping up towards their village like some kind of creature from a 1950’s B-movie.
This is because GARBAGE is actually a NEW PHENOMENON. Sure, there was refuse before—bones, shattered pottery, unusable parts of plants, even fabric that was ruined beyond use and re-use. But
a) There wasn’t much of it—resources were properly seen as precious by most people; every part of a plant or animal that could be made use of in any way was made use of, things were used and reused until they just flat couldn’t be used any more or literally disintegrated. Yes, even things like bones, like torn and stained fabric, even broken pottery.
b) What there was, was entirely useful. Perhaps no longer to the people who generated it, but to scavengers, ants, and other creatures, sure thing. It would be consumed, carted away, or converted into something by one or many of these, and return to “the circle of life” (thank you, Rafiki). Even stuff like potsherds would break down in the weather and re-enrich the soil.
So now we cart pounds and pounds of garbage to the curb every week—not per village, but per HOUSEHOLD—most of which will still be present when our sun goes supernova, to dump into a giant, creeping mountain of garbage that is slowly creeping up on us—on me, on you, on all of us (do you even know where your nearest dump is? –not far, I’ll bet—not far enough; never far enough), like that 1950’s B-movie creature.
And nothing will ever use it, not for anything. “LANDFILLS” fill our land and pollute our water with toxic chemicals and metals, radioactive material, plastics that will never return usefully to the Earth. Considering that we aren’t making any more LAND (and indeed, with rising sea levels, can probably count on less of it in the future), FILLing it with garbage seems to me like the worst kind of crime.
How is this “progress?”
Friday, May 28, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Buitoni Fails
Received the coupons from Buitoni. Apparently all they sell is refrigerated pasta and sauces, all encased in utterly non-recyclable, non-compostable, plastic GARBAGE. At least the coupons and the envelope they came in are easily recyclable.
As my teenage daughter would say, “Buitoni fails at life.”
As my teenage daughter would say, “Buitoni fails at life.”
Thursday, May 20, 2010
My Chai
Okay, I’m addicted to something else besides pesto. I have a Chai “Latte” every day. This is probably an addiction in both behavioral and chemical terms, as I’ll notice a bit of a headache around midday if I don’t have my chai.
I used to have this at the Barnes & Noble Café, a grande chai a day (pretty much every day) at nearly $4 a pop, not to mention the cup and sleeve (at least they are both paper) and the dreaded plastic (nonrecyclable, at least in our area) lid, which no matter how much you assure them you WON’T sue them if you are clumsy enough to spill the “HOT” liquid (which indeed, you WANT to be hot—duh!) on yourself, they just HAVE to put on there—even if the first thing you are going to do the second you walk away from the counter is strip it off and throw it in the trash! Augh!
They HAVE been nice about serving it in a mug, if you are going to stay there to drink it. Funny how suddenly nobody is worried about being sued if you spill your hot drink on yourself out of a mug. Not sure how that works. But mugs are great—and recently, they have even gotten to the point of ENCOURAGING the customers to use real mugs. I guess somebody realized that giving away all that trash is not just wasteful, but actually COSTS them more than washing and reusing nice mugs! Duh.
These people are great; don’t get me wrong; I love it there. They are super nice, they have wi fi (which is a godsend, since all we have at home is dial-up), and they joke that the window table is my “office” now—so don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to give them a hard time; it is just kind of indicative of the general irrationality of the way our culture is set up: “No, the customer is not always right, if you want the paper trash you have to take the plastic trash too, because you might sue us if you spill it—unless you want a mug, in which case whatever.”
But last year, I realized that, even if I were only getting a chai five days out of the week, at $3.69 or whatever it was, that was nearly $1000 a year! And that didn’t count anything else I might buy—the occasional bagel or spinach-feta pretzel (yum!), for example. It just couldn’t go on. $1000 could buy my college daughter’s books for a semester, and then some.
So I messed around with the recipe for a Tazo Chai Tea Latte at home until I could make one I really liked with the boxed Chai they sell in the grocery stores (not the same as they make at the B&N Café, you can’t buy the same Tazo formula for home use at all—but just as enjoyable). It took months! But I finally did it.
Proud of myself for saving hundreds and hundreds of dollars a year.
Except. . .
The box is not recyclable.
I called the company; the rep I spoke to was understanding—the company is at least a little on board with the whole “eco-thing”—free trade and all that—but that “Tetra Brik” box is just not recyclable. “Not nowhere, not nohow,” as the Great and Powerful Oz would say.
Help.
I’ve tried brewing my own chai from tea bags (even Tazo’s tea bags), adding my own honey and spices—could not even get close to the taste I was hoping for. Tried powder-based formulas—UGH! As my daughter would say, “EPIC fail!”
Here is one area where the brick wall of “not recyclable” has not yielded to the path of “this is even better!” At least, not yet.
Anybody got a sure-fire chai recipe?
I used to have this at the Barnes & Noble Café, a grande chai a day (pretty much every day) at nearly $4 a pop, not to mention the cup and sleeve (at least they are both paper) and the dreaded plastic (nonrecyclable, at least in our area) lid, which no matter how much you assure them you WON’T sue them if you are clumsy enough to spill the “HOT” liquid (which indeed, you WANT to be hot—duh!) on yourself, they just HAVE to put on there—even if the first thing you are going to do the second you walk away from the counter is strip it off and throw it in the trash! Augh!
They HAVE been nice about serving it in a mug, if you are going to stay there to drink it. Funny how suddenly nobody is worried about being sued if you spill your hot drink on yourself out of a mug. Not sure how that works. But mugs are great—and recently, they have even gotten to the point of ENCOURAGING the customers to use real mugs. I guess somebody realized that giving away all that trash is not just wasteful, but actually COSTS them more than washing and reusing nice mugs! Duh.
These people are great; don’t get me wrong; I love it there. They are super nice, they have wi fi (which is a godsend, since all we have at home is dial-up), and they joke that the window table is my “office” now—so don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to give them a hard time; it is just kind of indicative of the general irrationality of the way our culture is set up: “No, the customer is not always right, if you want the paper trash you have to take the plastic trash too, because you might sue us if you spill it—unless you want a mug, in which case whatever.”
But last year, I realized that, even if I were only getting a chai five days out of the week, at $3.69 or whatever it was, that was nearly $1000 a year! And that didn’t count anything else I might buy—the occasional bagel or spinach-feta pretzel (yum!), for example. It just couldn’t go on. $1000 could buy my college daughter’s books for a semester, and then some.
So I messed around with the recipe for a Tazo Chai Tea Latte at home until I could make one I really liked with the boxed Chai they sell in the grocery stores (not the same as they make at the B&N Café, you can’t buy the same Tazo formula for home use at all—but just as enjoyable). It took months! But I finally did it.
Proud of myself for saving hundreds and hundreds of dollars a year.
Except. . .
The box is not recyclable.
I called the company; the rep I spoke to was understanding—the company is at least a little on board with the whole “eco-thing”—free trade and all that—but that “Tetra Brik” box is just not recyclable. “Not nowhere, not nohow,” as the Great and Powerful Oz would say.
Help.
I’ve tried brewing my own chai from tea bags (even Tazo’s tea bags), adding my own honey and spices—could not even get close to the taste I was hoping for. Tried powder-based formulas—UGH! As my daughter would say, “EPIC fail!”
Here is one area where the brick wall of “not recyclable” has not yielded to the path of “this is even better!” At least, not yet.
Anybody got a sure-fire chai recipe?
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Far Horizon (Dairy)
Horizon Dairy. Weird phone call. I think this may be one of the companies that “farms out” its customer service to people who work at home? I think this because after going through a few computer choices, the phone just went silent for a bit. Then a person seemed to pick it up (not “pick it up” as in “come on the line,” but “pick it up” as if the phone had been off the hook on a desk or something and the person just saw it there and grabbed it up, from the sounds associated) in a panic and said “Hello??!” As if they had not noticed there was a call, but they should have. When I said, “Hello,” the person took a deep centering breath and stumbled into, “Thank you for—th-thank you for calling Horizon Dairy how may I help you?” Odd.
This was also a place that asked my name, “just to better address you,” the person said, but I didn’t catch the person’s name. I keep saying “the person” (I’m sure you have noticed) because the person also had one of those fascinating voices of completely indeterminate gender. Odder.
The particular product I called about—the Horizon Organic Finely Shredded Cheddar Cheese—comes in a “zip-lock”-type bag which, it turns out, is a 5, and which Horizon is aware is “not recyclable in all states.” (Certainly not our state. We can only do 1’s and 2’s, not 4’s or 5’s—apparently there is no such thing as a 3, really—maybe plastics manufacturers superstitiously skip 3, like no floor 13 in a hotel.) Their Organic Sour Cream is also in a container that is a 5. How that can be a 5, and this flimsy-looking bag also a 5, I don’t fully understand, but that is the all-out oddness of plastics, for you.
Well, as for the shredded cheese, of course it is a no-brainer that you can save much money by buying your own organic cheddar and shredding it yourself with your handy-dandy cheese grater. You are still left with the wrapper for the original block of cheese, but at least this is far less plastic per ounce of cheese. This also helps you burn off a few of those calories you are about to consume by covering your whatever with luscious melty cheese (yum!).
The sour cream, though. That’s a stumper. Unless we want to buy our own cow and start learning how to make our own—and if I want to keep these posts useful for “the average American” that would seem to defeat the purpose. I’ve been reading about “Urban Chickens” lately, but I certainly have not heard anything about “Urban Cows.” Perhaps it is time to face the fact that sour cream is a luxury—not to mention a source of fat calories—that we really can (and probably should) do without.
The rep did assure me that Horizon is always looking for ways to make things more eco-friendly. Okay, look fast, or you are losing our business.
This was also a place that asked my name, “just to better address you,” the person said, but I didn’t catch the person’s name. I keep saying “the person” (I’m sure you have noticed) because the person also had one of those fascinating voices of completely indeterminate gender. Odder.
The particular product I called about—the Horizon Organic Finely Shredded Cheddar Cheese—comes in a “zip-lock”-type bag which, it turns out, is a 5, and which Horizon is aware is “not recyclable in all states.” (Certainly not our state. We can only do 1’s and 2’s, not 4’s or 5’s—apparently there is no such thing as a 3, really—maybe plastics manufacturers superstitiously skip 3, like no floor 13 in a hotel.) Their Organic Sour Cream is also in a container that is a 5. How that can be a 5, and this flimsy-looking bag also a 5, I don’t fully understand, but that is the all-out oddness of plastics, for you.
Well, as for the shredded cheese, of course it is a no-brainer that you can save much money by buying your own organic cheddar and shredding it yourself with your handy-dandy cheese grater. You are still left with the wrapper for the original block of cheese, but at least this is far less plastic per ounce of cheese. This also helps you burn off a few of those calories you are about to consume by covering your whatever with luscious melty cheese (yum!).
The sour cream, though. That’s a stumper. Unless we want to buy our own cow and start learning how to make our own—and if I want to keep these posts useful for “the average American” that would seem to defeat the purpose. I’ve been reading about “Urban Chickens” lately, but I certainly have not heard anything about “Urban Cows.” Perhaps it is time to face the fact that sour cream is a luxury—not to mention a source of fat calories—that we really can (and probably should) do without.
The rep did assure me that Horizon is always looking for ways to make things more eco-friendly. Okay, look fast, or you are losing our business.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
"The" Oil Spill
I haven’t wanted to say anything about “the oil spill.” It’s funny how people call it that, as if there is only one. My husband, who used to work for Shell Oil, tells me there are two or three like this around the world every YEAR. They just don’t make our news. Anyway, I haven’t mentioned it, because I’ve been thinking that this blog is about my reducing my personal garbage, and that isn’t my garbage.
But this morning I realized—oh yes it is. Of course it is! As long as I drive a car, run a generator, run a lawnmower, or do anything else that burns oil-based fuel, it certainly IS my garbage. It is mine, it is yours, it absolutely belongs to and was created by every single greedy gluttonous American (self included!) that burns oil or stands idly by and lets it go on being burned as if that is some kind of a good idea—or as if it is even just okay to do.
As the granddaughter of an Appalachian coal miner and the wife of a man who used to work for Shell Oil, I tell you that coal and oil are resources whose time has come and GONE. They are filthy, dangerous, and hazardous to human health at EVERY stage of development and use; they destroy the environment and leave nothing but grief and destruction in their wake. It is long past time we STOPPED burning any kind of filthy and dangerous fossil-based fuels and grew up to a healthy and SANE relationship to and with the environment upon which ALL OUR LIVES DEPEND.
Had we listened to President Carter decades ago, we could be living RIGHT NOW in a cleaner world, and THOUSANDS of lives lost--to accidents, disease, oil-based wars, oil-funded terrorism, intolerable air quality aggravating asthma and lung diseases, and on and on--would still be with us, to the delight of their families and to potentially great benefit to the world. The World Trade Center would still stand--because if there were no demand for oil-based fuel, the funding for Middle East terrorism would literally dry up and blow away! The poor girl I spoke to yesterday, whose National Guard fiance’ is in Iraq clearing roads (perhaps the most dangerous job on the planet right now!) would be planning her wedding instead of worrying about planning a funeral. We’d have new and burgeoning industries in clean energy providing all kinds of jobs—far cleaner and safer than those in the oil industry—from assembly-line level right up to high-dollar research and design! The grieving families of the men who DIED on that rig (have we forgotten already?) would have their fathers, brothers, sons with them still. And the entire population of the Gulf Coast would be gearing up for tourist season and readying their nets for the corresponding fresh seafood demand, hoping to make a few bucks to offset the rest of the year’s hardships, instead of grabbing what panic-clean-up jobs they can and then planning to join unemployment lines and have their houses foreclosed.
Perhaps you and I could not do anything about the loss of THOSE lives, or the hardships incurred by those people; but unless we take every possible action in our power to encourage--indeed, to INSIST that our culture develop TRULY clean and TRULY sustainable sources of energy, then we WILL be to blame for future deaths.
The only thing necessary for evil to prevail is for good people to do nothing.
Please, do what is right--even if it is difficult. Indeed, ESPECIALLY if it is difficult. Do your best; see to it that the world is left a BETTER place—in some way; in ANY way!—for your having lived in the privileged position which you now occupy.
(And make no mistake; if you are able to access and read a “blog,” then you are in a privileged position, indeed.)
But this morning I realized—oh yes it is. Of course it is! As long as I drive a car, run a generator, run a lawnmower, or do anything else that burns oil-based fuel, it certainly IS my garbage. It is mine, it is yours, it absolutely belongs to and was created by every single greedy gluttonous American (self included!) that burns oil or stands idly by and lets it go on being burned as if that is some kind of a good idea—or as if it is even just okay to do.
As the granddaughter of an Appalachian coal miner and the wife of a man who used to work for Shell Oil, I tell you that coal and oil are resources whose time has come and GONE. They are filthy, dangerous, and hazardous to human health at EVERY stage of development and use; they destroy the environment and leave nothing but grief and destruction in their wake. It is long past time we STOPPED burning any kind of filthy and dangerous fossil-based fuels and grew up to a healthy and SANE relationship to and with the environment upon which ALL OUR LIVES DEPEND.
Had we listened to President Carter decades ago, we could be living RIGHT NOW in a cleaner world, and THOUSANDS of lives lost--to accidents, disease, oil-based wars, oil-funded terrorism, intolerable air quality aggravating asthma and lung diseases, and on and on--would still be with us, to the delight of their families and to potentially great benefit to the world. The World Trade Center would still stand--because if there were no demand for oil-based fuel, the funding for Middle East terrorism would literally dry up and blow away! The poor girl I spoke to yesterday, whose National Guard fiance’ is in Iraq clearing roads (perhaps the most dangerous job on the planet right now!) would be planning her wedding instead of worrying about planning a funeral. We’d have new and burgeoning industries in clean energy providing all kinds of jobs—far cleaner and safer than those in the oil industry—from assembly-line level right up to high-dollar research and design! The grieving families of the men who DIED on that rig (have we forgotten already?) would have their fathers, brothers, sons with them still. And the entire population of the Gulf Coast would be gearing up for tourist season and readying their nets for the corresponding fresh seafood demand, hoping to make a few bucks to offset the rest of the year’s hardships, instead of grabbing what panic-clean-up jobs they can and then planning to join unemployment lines and have their houses foreclosed.
Perhaps you and I could not do anything about the loss of THOSE lives, or the hardships incurred by those people; but unless we take every possible action in our power to encourage--indeed, to INSIST that our culture develop TRULY clean and TRULY sustainable sources of energy, then we WILL be to blame for future deaths.
The only thing necessary for evil to prevail is for good people to do nothing.
Please, do what is right--even if it is difficult. Indeed, ESPECIALLY if it is difficult. Do your best; see to it that the world is left a BETTER place—in some way; in ANY way!—for your having lived in the privileged position which you now occupy.
(And make no mistake; if you are able to access and read a “blog,” then you are in a privileged position, indeed.)
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Bye Bye, Buitoni!
Bye Bye, Buitoni!
One of the first companies I called was Buitoni. This is because I am a pesto addict. (“Hi, I’m ____, and I’m a pesto addict.” Oh, true.) The absolute favorite pesto delivery system for this past year has been the Buitoni Wild Mushroom Agnolotti; I buy two packages of that, one of their pesto sauce, and it’s just a heavenly dinner that I have serious trouble not succumbing to absolutely painful gluttony over. It ain’t cheap though! That Agnolotti (What the heck is that, anyway? It’s basically a half-moon shaped ravioli, Buitoni! What’s with the fancy Italian name? And doesn’t that root “agn-“ mean having to do with lamb, anyway?) is twice the price of the tortellini I used to buy for their pesto, and there’s less of it (a LOT less!). Plus, recently they have reduced the amount of product in the package even more, without reducing either the amount of packaging or the price. So already I was starting to twinge a bit with guilt, buying that. But heavenly! SO tasty.
The on-hold wait wasn’t too bad for Buitoni, the hold music was tolerable, the interruptions in the moderately annoying range, and the woman who answered was apparently American and really very service-oriented; very helpful in attitude, although she didn’t have the answer right away (and when she answered the phone, she started to say the name of another company—apparently customer service for Buitoni is also customer service for some other brands, but that’s fine). Well, after Ms. Helpful spent some care and effort finding out (and thank you very much, I wish I’d gotten her name--she really was a great customer service rep!), the sad answer was returned that no, the not-reduced-for-volume packaging was also not recyclable, at all.
My closing spiel, for the sad outcomes:
“Thank you so much for the information, and please pass on to the management the message that we are SO sad that we will not be able to buy this product anymore, until the packaging is either fully and easily recyclable, or compostable.”
Ms. Helpful Buitoni Person cheerfully offered me coupons. Huh. I HAD just said that we would no longer be able to buy the products. . .but she had been so helpful, I hated to say no. And perhaps they make SOMETHING that is sold in a reasonable package. So I thanked her again, reminded her to pass on my message, and we’ll wait for the coupons. I guess if there aren’t any recyclably-packaged Buitoni products, we can always recycle the coupons.
The thing is, I thought I would be really sad and upset if I found out I would have to give up the Wild Mushroom Agnolotti, but what I really felt—was freedom. My thought, hanging up the phone, was not “Oh shoot, we can’t buy that anymore” but “Okay! We don’t have to buy that anymore!” It was a relief from the pressure TO buy something—something very tasty, but that really was too expensive for what it was anyway, and—truth be told—not vastly more satisfying than any other kind of pasta with yummy pesto on it!
So here’s something else surprising that I’ve been learning. I thought this would be hard—not just logistically, but, you know, emotionally. I had braced myself for these (admittedly small, but perhaps cumulative) experiences of loss and grief, knowing that many of our favorite products would not be sustainable choices for our future. But what I’m actually finding—at least so far—is that every single thing we’ve had to give up, we’ve found something even BETTER—and so far, also CHEAPER—to replace it! This is so NOT what I was expecting.
Case in point: Pesto Delivery System.
Since I said bye-bye to Buitoni, I’ve bought the DeBoles Organic Spinach Fettucini (yummy!), which is packaged in a box that is fully recyclable as paper if you tear out the little plastic window (which is a 5, dangit, but we’ll collect those and come up with some nefarious plan for them later). DeBoles’ customer service lady was SO wonderful, she took my number and said she would call back with all the specifics of how to recycle, and she really, really did! If we lived in an area with reasonable recycling, even the little window would be no problem.
The entire package of DeBoles fettucini costs less than ONE of the Agnolotti did, and the ultimate amount of pasta it makes is more than the TWO Agnolotti packages I used to buy. We make the fettucini, top it with Kroger Private Selection Basil Pesto (glass container, steel lid, fully and easily recyclable), which is HALF the price of the next higher pesto sauce (in practical fact, it is a quarter of the price, since you can get two meals out of one jar), and to me, it is even more delicious (less sodium, more FLAVOR!). We crumble walnuts on top, serve with a big field green salad with vinaigrette of your choice—delicious and perfectly satisfying, and NO garbage left except the tiny plastic window. We’ll deal with you later, little window. . .
One of the first companies I called was Buitoni. This is because I am a pesto addict. (“Hi, I’m ____, and I’m a pesto addict.” Oh, true.) The absolute favorite pesto delivery system for this past year has been the Buitoni Wild Mushroom Agnolotti; I buy two packages of that, one of their pesto sauce, and it’s just a heavenly dinner that I have serious trouble not succumbing to absolutely painful gluttony over. It ain’t cheap though! That Agnolotti (What the heck is that, anyway? It’s basically a half-moon shaped ravioli, Buitoni! What’s with the fancy Italian name? And doesn’t that root “agn-“ mean having to do with lamb, anyway?) is twice the price of the tortellini I used to buy for their pesto, and there’s less of it (a LOT less!). Plus, recently they have reduced the amount of product in the package even more, without reducing either the amount of packaging or the price. So already I was starting to twinge a bit with guilt, buying that. But heavenly! SO tasty.
The on-hold wait wasn’t too bad for Buitoni, the hold music was tolerable, the interruptions in the moderately annoying range, and the woman who answered was apparently American and really very service-oriented; very helpful in attitude, although she didn’t have the answer right away (and when she answered the phone, she started to say the name of another company—apparently customer service for Buitoni is also customer service for some other brands, but that’s fine). Well, after Ms. Helpful spent some care and effort finding out (and thank you very much, I wish I’d gotten her name--she really was a great customer service rep!), the sad answer was returned that no, the not-reduced-for-volume packaging was also not recyclable, at all.
My closing spiel, for the sad outcomes:
“Thank you so much for the information, and please pass on to the management the message that we are SO sad that we will not be able to buy this product anymore, until the packaging is either fully and easily recyclable, or compostable.”
Ms. Helpful Buitoni Person cheerfully offered me coupons. Huh. I HAD just said that we would no longer be able to buy the products. . .but she had been so helpful, I hated to say no. And perhaps they make SOMETHING that is sold in a reasonable package. So I thanked her again, reminded her to pass on my message, and we’ll wait for the coupons. I guess if there aren’t any recyclably-packaged Buitoni products, we can always recycle the coupons.
The thing is, I thought I would be really sad and upset if I found out I would have to give up the Wild Mushroom Agnolotti, but what I really felt—was freedom. My thought, hanging up the phone, was not “Oh shoot, we can’t buy that anymore” but “Okay! We don’t have to buy that anymore!” It was a relief from the pressure TO buy something—something very tasty, but that really was too expensive for what it was anyway, and—truth be told—not vastly more satisfying than any other kind of pasta with yummy pesto on it!
So here’s something else surprising that I’ve been learning. I thought this would be hard—not just logistically, but, you know, emotionally. I had braced myself for these (admittedly small, but perhaps cumulative) experiences of loss and grief, knowing that many of our favorite products would not be sustainable choices for our future. But what I’m actually finding—at least so far—is that every single thing we’ve had to give up, we’ve found something even BETTER—and so far, also CHEAPER—to replace it! This is so NOT what I was expecting.
Case in point: Pesto Delivery System.
Since I said bye-bye to Buitoni, I’ve bought the DeBoles Organic Spinach Fettucini (yummy!), which is packaged in a box that is fully recyclable as paper if you tear out the little plastic window (which is a 5, dangit, but we’ll collect those and come up with some nefarious plan for them later). DeBoles’ customer service lady was SO wonderful, she took my number and said she would call back with all the specifics of how to recycle, and she really, really did! If we lived in an area with reasonable recycling, even the little window would be no problem.
The entire package of DeBoles fettucini costs less than ONE of the Agnolotti did, and the ultimate amount of pasta it makes is more than the TWO Agnolotti packages I used to buy. We make the fettucini, top it with Kroger Private Selection Basil Pesto (glass container, steel lid, fully and easily recyclable), which is HALF the price of the next higher pesto sauce (in practical fact, it is a quarter of the price, since you can get two meals out of one jar), and to me, it is even more delicious (less sodium, more FLAVOR!). We crumble walnuts on top, serve with a big field green salad with vinaigrette of your choice—delicious and perfectly satisfying, and NO garbage left except the tiny plastic window. We’ll deal with you later, little window. . .
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