And I don’t mean eggs. (Which reminds me–how could I have been talking about freebasing eggs, and not make a “this is your brain on drugs” joke? What a waste.)

Peter has poached something that belongs on Roving Gastronome. I thought I’d let it slide, but it just makes more sense here. This blog will not devolve into petty rivalry and recrimination. Ahem. (But you could still go over there because a new pic of Tamara and her lamb shanks is up, but I can’t figure out what the permalink is, and Peter fixed the time stamp so that it’s back in the whole string of photos, so you just have to scroll down again.)

Anyway, a thoughtful citizen emailed me for advice, and I thought that by posting his concern and my reply, it might help others in a similar quandary.

To: Department of Culino-Ethics Roving Gastronome Plaza

[Yes, there is a department of culino-ethics in this organization–even though it doesn’t seem like it sometimes.]

From: “Rex” in NYC

Dear Roving Gastronome Staff Ethicist,

I’m hoping you can give me some advice. I recently attended a lamb roast very similar to the one described so colorfully on these pages. Coincidentally, this lamb roast also featured a main course of lamb accompanied by pot-luck side dishes from all the guests. Well, as it happened, I didn’t actually have time to cook anything that weekend, so I just bought some prepared food at Whole Foods and brought it along as my potluck contribution. The problem is, once I got there I pretended I had made the food myself! There I was, surrounded by lovingly homemade dishes of brains, of liver, of little cupcakes with hand-piped frosting decorated with mint springs — and my dish was a fraud. A lie! True, I think it brought some pleasure into people’s lives, judging from the way they were shoveling it in, but I feel sort of sleazy. Does this incident mean that, at heart, I am not a true ‘foodie’?

Dear Rueful “Rex”:

There are certainly some shades of gray in this issue. Certainly it sounds as if you never actively said, “Whoo-boy, I slaved over a hot stove for those babies. I hope you like ’em.” So if your foodie friends jump to the conclusion that you made them, it simply reflects their mindset; if you were to do the same at a party full of other harried Manhattanites, the guests would likely assume you had not cooked the carrots in question. And I would imagine that you, aka Mr. Conscientious, certainly arrived at the party with a clearly marked “Whole Foods” bag in hand, so as never to be accused of trying to disguise your contribution. If all this is the case, then put your mind at rest.

What matters is that the food tastes good (and ideally has no hydrogenated fats). In this respect, I would imagine your contribution met the high standards set by your foodie friends. Why, coincidentally, a fellow attendee at my Sunday lamb roast, when presented with this hypothetical situation, was reminded of similar carrots he had eaten, and said, “Who cares? They were great carrots!”

He, in fact, saw the quickie carrots as an interesting test of the foodie ethic, suggesting that perhaps people would not have praised them had they known they had been purchased, not slaved over with thine own two hands. Ah, the double-edged sword of the critics!

In any case, I’m sure the carrots reflected your excellent taste, and this is what’s really valued. Had you purchased two dozen of those chocolate-marshmallow puffs you see at deli checkouts, well, then you’d be cast down.

Consider yourself sleaze-free, noble carrot-bearer.

Ethically yours–

RG