In the Whole Foods produce section a man in his late 40’s is standing, inert, with an empty shopping cart. A woman of the same age, perhaps sensing prey, asks him if he needs any help finding something. “I’m just trying to remember a recipe,” he replies.
“Oh?” she says. “What kind of recipe?”
“It’s, uh, complicated,” he answers, in a tone that indicates he’s not interested in her cooking advice or anything else. Then, perhaps thinking he was too brusque, adds, “I’m a raw-foodist.”
“A raw-foodist.”
“Yes, I don’t eat cooked food.”
“People who eat raw food call themselves ‘raw-foodists.’” It’s not a question.
“Only to people who eat cooked food,” he replies sourly.
To me she says, “Welcome to Cambridge.” Then she pushes off into Seafood.