Grocery goodness
Everyone has their own way of grocery shopping.
Like cooking, making the bed, and other parent-taught and often-practiced domestic duties, it's the sort of thing people tend to be a little bit rigid about, and I am no exception. I organize my grocery list in a certain way; I visit different shops in a certain order; I navigate the aisles in a certain direction; and I never, ever dawdle.
I am hyper-efficient. I do not pause to investigate interesting-looking imported jellies if my list does not say "Imported Jelly" on it. I don't go down an aisle if I know I don't need anything in it. And I never, ever buy more than I think we can easily store and eat in a week.
Perry has a different philosophy of grocery shopping. He prefers to sort of wander around, thoroughly investigating every nook and corner, occasionally referring to the list, but mostly improvising. He's the guy who impulse-buys those imported jellies. And I'm the girl crossly tugging on his arm and asking, can't we just GO already? When I go grocery shopping, I'm in and out in 15 minutes. When he goes, it might be an hour. I hate to dawdle; he hates to be rushed.
You may not be surprised to learn that we do not often grocery shop together. We've learned our limitations, and this is one of them. And since I'm more or less in charge of food these days, that means Perry doesn't often get the chance to indulge in his bizarre recreational grocery shopping.
HOWEVER:
Saturday night after a pleasant early dinner with some friends at our favorite restaurant, we headed up to the 125th street Fairway, where I was overcome by an anomalous mood. For once in my efficient-grocery-shopping life, I wanted to dawdle. I wanted to read the ingredients on the vegan pirogies. I wanted to ponder which of the ninety Fairway-branded olive oils was the olive oil for me. Poor Perry couldn't believe his luck.
So, two hours and $ahem later, we exited Fairway with a cart full of impulsive oddments. Half-sour pickles, a solid block of wholesale Belgian baking chocolate, a head of elephant garlic, and a bag of flax meal were among our various random acquisitions. I get the feeling it was sort of like Christmas, birthdays, and a marriage-vow renewal all rolled into one for Perry.
And it wasn't half bad for me, either.
Like cooking, making the bed, and other parent-taught and often-practiced domestic duties, it's the sort of thing people tend to be a little bit rigid about, and I am no exception. I organize my grocery list in a certain way; I visit different shops in a certain order; I navigate the aisles in a certain direction; and I never, ever dawdle.
I am hyper-efficient. I do not pause to investigate interesting-looking imported jellies if my list does not say "Imported Jelly" on it. I don't go down an aisle if I know I don't need anything in it. And I never, ever buy more than I think we can easily store and eat in a week.
Perry has a different philosophy of grocery shopping. He prefers to sort of wander around, thoroughly investigating every nook and corner, occasionally referring to the list, but mostly improvising. He's the guy who impulse-buys those imported jellies. And I'm the girl crossly tugging on his arm and asking, can't we just GO already? When I go grocery shopping, I'm in and out in 15 minutes. When he goes, it might be an hour. I hate to dawdle; he hates to be rushed.
You may not be surprised to learn that we do not often grocery shop together. We've learned our limitations, and this is one of them. And since I'm more or less in charge of food these days, that means Perry doesn't often get the chance to indulge in his bizarre recreational grocery shopping.
HOWEVER:
Saturday night after a pleasant early dinner with some friends at our favorite restaurant, we headed up to the 125th street Fairway, where I was overcome by an anomalous mood. For once in my efficient-grocery-shopping life, I wanted to dawdle. I wanted to read the ingredients on the vegan pirogies. I wanted to ponder which of the ninety Fairway-branded olive oils was the olive oil for me. Poor Perry couldn't believe his luck.
So, two hours and $ahem later, we exited Fairway with a cart full of impulsive oddments. Half-sour pickles, a solid block of wholesale Belgian baking chocolate, a head of elephant garlic, and a bag of flax meal were among our various random acquisitions. I get the feeling it was sort of like Christmas, birthdays, and a marriage-vow renewal all rolled into one for Perry.
And it wasn't half bad for me, either.
posted by Calista at 6:02 PM
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