Whenever I fear that some food item will become scarce or unavailable in the future, it forces me to indulge in that particular item even more in the present.
Every article that I read about overfishing or global warming depleting our fish supplies compounds my fear that fish, or at least some kinds of fish, will be prohibitively expensive to eat within my lifetime. So, if black cod or butterfish appear on the menu, I tend to order it, storing away memories of the dish, so that I can later lose myself in a reverie to my grandchildren, who may not have the same chance to taste these delightful creatures of the sea.
Similarly, stories of Chicago’s fois gras ban have instilled a fear that the end is nigh for the fatty liver, in liberal, animal rights friendly San Francisco. If fois gras goes the way of the plastic bag within my fair city’s limits, I think I’d open a fois gras themed speakeasy right across the border in Daly City, and name it Liberty.