As we have intimated before, Bostonist is no fan of Whole Foods. We can understand paying more for organic food, but half the time when we go for some particular organic piece of produce (our health is not so important, but for baby Bostonist, we are inclined to splurge), they only have the "conventional" version of that particular fruit or vegetable, yet it still costs twice what we'd pay at a normal grocery store. We also don't like their jivey cereals; not only do they taste bland and cardboardy, but they have dumb names like "Good Friends." What sort of a name is that for cereal?! We'll stick to Froot Loops and Smart Start (which is especially fun to say with a Boston accent). Still, we have heretofore refrained from lambasting Whole Foods publicly, trying to heed the sensible maxim taught to us so many years ago by Arnold, Willis, Mr. Drummond, et al.: It takes diff'rent strokes to rule the world. (Also, Whole Foods is sometimes the best place for hard-to-find ingredients.) Last night, however, we felt we'd stumbled upon an unassailable and damning piece of evidence that would finally give us fodder for a searing indictment of the hated upscale chain. Unfortunately, in the end Whole Foods remained one step ahead of us. Nevertheless, we shall recount the details of our harrowing incident for the edification of our dear readers.
Mrs. Bostonist, as is more and more customary for women of her age and socio-economic status, participates in a monthly book group. Last night it was her turn to host said group, and she planned to prepare a salmon dinner for her book-chums. As Bostonist was riding our bicycle home from work, Mrs. Bostonist called us in a frantic state, wondering what she should do about the large worms she discovered in the salmon from Whole Foods. Although flattered that she might suppose we knew anything about this, Bostonist had to remind her that we didn't even cook fish before we met her. So she called Whole Foods.
The first person she spoke to said, "Oh, yeah, we've had a couple calls like that lately." Not so reassuring. The person at the fish counter, to whom Mrs. B. was subsequently tranferred, said, "Oh, that is quite normal. It is an indication of freshness." "So I can serve this to people and they won't get food poisoning?" Mrs. B. asked. Here, there was some hesitation: "Sure," replied Fish Person, "I think so." Mrs. B. ordered pizza.
Today, thanks to the magic of Internet, Bostonist learns that, lo and behold, big worms in fish are no big deal. (We also decided that our next indie rock band will be called Parasitic Worms of Fish.) We still hate Whole Foods, though.
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