My mother got me a Costco membership as a gift. I went today for the first time, and oh. Not only can you buy Tupperware in various sizes (that all comes in one deceptively light box!), but organic chicken broth, Greek yogurt, a clamshell of blackberries, about six thousand grapes, and two hefty organic pork tenderloins can all be purchased for deals so excellent I want to fist someone's grandma.
But there is a catch, aside from the beyond stressful shopping experience, or the diarrhea I've experienced from eating about four of those six thousand grapes: the fish is so awful I am open-mouthed, and wordless (almost). Although this blog has a meager readership, I am earnestly begging those of you who are reading right now to never, ever buy cod at Costco.
I adore cod, in spite it its bad reputation. I always associated cod with pirates and forced stoned fast food runs to epicenters of breaded doom, as well as depressing jaunts to the Food Lion in College Park for my grandma (is this the second time I've referenced grandmas in this post? s-e-x-y). BUT David began roasting cod with tomatoes, fingerling potatoes, and olives, and my opinion was transformed by the meaty simplicity, the wholesome integrity of plain, unadorned fish accompanied by wholesome sidekicks.
At Costco today I saw the price--ten dollars for a piece of cod so huge it was actually frightening--and I HAD HAD HAD to buy it and bake it in the oven with paprika, sea salt, and olive oil and serve it atop a bed of sauteed spinach and tomatoes drizzled with sherry vinegar.
But unless you are fond of sniffing your (or your loved one's) sopping maxi pad, the subtle taste of condoms, or the unyielding texture of beachballs, I really wouldn't dare supplement Costco cod for Whole Foods'. Seriously.
Thank the dear lord I also bought a nine-can pack of Goya chickpeas for $4.99 (STEALIN!), which I mixed with the spinach/tomato melange and some brown long-grain rice.
You can't beat those little powerhouse nugs of stealth wonder.