Monday, April 21, 2008

Ode to a grocery store

I have a problem. I go grocery shopping pretty much every day. Look at my pantry pictures for a glimpe into my descent into ingredient madness. Here's the problem- I try to plan ahead, but there is really no way to predict on, say, a Friday, what I'm going to want to make, much less eat, the following Tuesday. So I buy a bunch of stuff, which I am then not in the mood for later. So I have to buy more. The other problem I have is the fantasy of things which I may possibly make at some indeterminate time in the future. This is why I have twelve different kinds of pasta, five kinds of flour, and such esoteric delicacies as "kelp powder". Alas, even with a pantry stuffed to the gills, nothing seems to add up to anything, thus requiring additional trips to the store. Oh well. Today I went to one of my favorite grocery stores for, I swear, orange bell peppers AND THAT IS IT. I wrote a poem about the experience when I got home. I call it:
Oh, Trader Joe, Why Do You Seduce Me With Your Adorable Signs, Then Take All My Money?
I went for orange bell peppers
and I found organic cheese,
Lovely, dainty haricot verts
ready for deep freeze,
Bars of Belgian chocolate
weighing in a o'er a pound,
Korma sauce and whole trimmed leeks
were among the goods I found,
A quart of Ben and Jerry's
and chocolate croissants too,
Ten types of rice -jasmine, basmati, wild,
to name a few,
Fire roasted peppers
for a dollar ninety-nine,
sweet potato french fries
that were looking mighty fine,
Tahitian vanilla, carne asada-
they leave my heart a-flutter,
tiny cupcakes, micro-greens,
and - plugra (that's butter)
It's time to go, dear Trader Joe,
Though I'll be back I must confess,
I'm out the door with so much more,
And yet - a hundred dollars less.

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