Joan Mazza
Blue Zones Fare
Call me gullible again. I fell for the claims
of longevity with health, bought the pricey book
with stunning photos of foods I never heard of,
went on to buy miso, dashi, seaweed, and tofu,
watched the YouTube videos on how to prepare
and store them. This book is nearly vegan
with portions sized for petite five-year-olds.
No fish or shellfish, not even for Sardinia
and Okinawa, where the sea offers its buffet.
Listen, I hate to confess how easily I’ve been
bamboozled by pretty pictures and promises
that I might live to 100, remain vibrant.
Let’s face it, I’m not climbing up and down
the mountainside with a sack of turnips
or digging potatoes with only hand tools.
I never have and never will. It’s too late
to grow muscular and athletic at seventy-two.
But please, don’t lie to me about ingredients.
Don’t sell me books with untested recipes
whose baking times and quantities are out
of whack. Don’t tell me I need to buy
breadfruit, chan seeds, mirin, purple sweet
potatoes, and one large, hairy tiquisque.
The joke’s on me. I’m still a mark for magic.