"United States of Arugula" alive at the olive bar

I've joined a book group -- a terrific circle of smart, funny women. This month's reading selection was "The United States of Arugula: The Sun Dried, Cold Pressed, Dark Roasted, Extra Virgin Story of the American Food Revolution ," by David Kamp. What a great read. Kamp examines how the American food scene has evolved, thanks in large measure to foodie pioneers such as James Beard, Julia Child, Alice Waters and Craig Claiborne. I loved the book-- it's a lively examination of how what we eat has changed for the better over the last 50 years.

Book group is a potluck event, and for this week's get-together I really wanted to cook something excellent to match our subject matter. But I had no time, so I decided to just stop at the store after work to pick up munchies. Cop-out, yeah. But what first caught my attention when I walked into the new Dillon's store on Douglas Avenue was the olive bar, filled with all kinds of beautiful olives, stuffed grape leaves, marinated cheese, mushrooms and cherry tomatoes. It was beautiful, and illustrated perfectly what Kamp describes in his book-- the wonderful supply of delectable ingredients available everywhere we shop, a different food universe than the landscape Julia or James or Craig inhabited when they started out in the middle of the last century. So I bought several plastic containers of goodies from the olive bar, picked up some water crackers and some goat cheese brie. Also a little jar of yummy oily sundried tomatoes. Used to be you only found this kind of stuff at Dean & DeLuca's (the founders of which were also significant characters, by the way, in Kamp's book.) Now good food surrounds us everywhere. I felt very happy.

I went home, arranged my cheese, olives and everything else in a white serving dish I'd picked up at DeHillerins in Paris. I packed this off to book group with a bottle of wine. Life is good. And food has gotten really good.