The joy of food shopping???...Ummm, it depends...
My shopping adventures from Brooklyn to Zanzibar, and beyond...
Oh the lists this time of year…the gift lists, the kids’ holiday activity lists, the decorating lists, the food lists, the meal planning lists, and…the shopping lists…
Actually some of these lists are the same ALL.YEAR! But, somehow there is a different feel to them now.
Thinking about my current lists and list-ing reminds me of my various lists and list-ing and specifically shopping in the many places I’ve lived…
Every time I’ve moved somewhere new, one of the first things I need to figure out in my process of get situated, is the shopping situation…
The feeling about this need for survival—well that sounds a little intense. Okay we’ll say “food buying exploration” is often mixed with, “ughs, cool, fun”, and “oh brother…”
When I’m in the mode of exploring my new town and community, then I feel curious and patient. But when I’m in the mode of “I am hungry” or “I need to just get something for dinner”, then I just want the EASIEST place to go- meaning the schlep to the grocery store should be short, and the grocery store itself shouldn’t feel like I’m going into a mall.
Gosh those primarily grocery stores that are also like a mall where you can buy everything are a bit ridiculous! I mean I see the utility in it- why not get your eggs, milk, and jackhammer in one place! Oh and then while I’m at it, I can grab the new pillow, and a new pair of jeans, oh and underwear for my daughter. Ugh, and now that I am somehow in the “auto section”, I have to walk 1/2 a mile back to the produce section because I forgot the tomatoes! But alas, IF I am in a curious, exploratory mode AND I’ve just had some coffee- then sure spending two hours getting in my steps while wandering the aisles is fine…
For now, though, I will take you yearsssss back to where my shopping days all began. Brooklyn NY in the 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s. It was where I was born and lived until my late 20’s, minus college and a couple of extended traveling detours.
In Brooklyn, what I remember most about my independent shopping as a young girl, was that my parents would give me $5 and send me to the corner delicatessen.
I would often get a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, and 1/4 pound of sliced Muenster cheese. Right before heading out I would sometimes say, “can I get some doughnuts too?” My dad, brother and I loved those chocolate covered Entenmann’s doughnuts. We’d get a tall glass of milk and dunk away! Delish! On the weekends, we’d often go to this delicatessen for their foot long hero’s. It would be for lunch at my softball game, or to take with us to Prospect Park for a picnic.
When it was a bigger shopping, like for dinners, school lunches or to have food for the next few days or the week, then I would go with my mom or dad to the larger grocery store about 3 blocks away: “Met Food”, it was called. Or several years later after gentrification hit our neighborhood, we would also go to the “fancier”- “D’Agostino’s”.
Whichever one we went to, we would walk though, not drive. So we could only buy what we could physically carry home in our hands. Many people had those shopping carts you often see in urban areas, but I don’t remember us having one. We would just carry what we could and walk home as fast as we could, before our fingers fell off from the weight of the bags. This was of course way before the onset of cloth bags that you can swing over your shoulder when the bag is heavy.
Now for the big shopping, like for a month or 6 weeks worth of groceries— for the pantry items. The cereal, the pasta, the crackers, the sauces, the bottled juices, frozen foods, and everything in between, my brother and I would go with my mom to Pathmark- the BIG grocery store near us that we would actually drive to.
On those shopping trips we’d fill the cart with all the things, as if stocking up before a storm was coming. We’d end up piling about 20-30 bags into the back of our maroon colored Toyota Camry. There would still be shopping work to do when we got home, so before leaving the store, my mom would bribe us with a large cinnamon roll from the attached Dunkin’ Donuts. Where we lived there was just street parking. So because there was NEVER a spot in front of our apartment, my mom would double park the car, leave the hazard lights flashing, and we’d form a train to unload the groceries. Thankfully we lived on the first floor and not the third floor!
Since my grandmother just lived a neighborhood away, sometimes I’d go shopping with her too. When I’d go with her, we’d go to several stores that were owned and run mostly by immigrant families, each selling their particular speciality food items. We’d go to the butcher, the fruit and vegetable stand, and the kosher dairy store for milk, yogurt, cheese and bread.
When I lived in San Francisco right after graduating college, there were also a lot of ethnic specific stores. Instead of going to one large grocery store that has ethnic sections within it, I would just go to the store of that particular food I wanted. They also usually each had a smaller section of the necessities- eggs, milk, and bread, so I don’t even remember ever going to a large grocery store while living there.
My next solo shopping adventure, was in… Pemba, Zanzibar, Tanzania. Now that was a feat! For the first several months, with my dictionary in hand, I would walk down the road to the closest “duka”- the word for store in Kiswahili. Funny enough, the first word that came to my mind as I’m now remembering one of the first things I needed to buy, was “karatasi na cho”- which means toilet paper! I had not availed myself of the local way to wash the area afterwards- and was in need of the more familiar to me way of keeping clean down there… So I was very thankful for that dictionary which helped with obtaining that necessity and many others!
The duka also had many pantry and shelf items- such as oils, jars of peanut butter, crackers, soda, soap, a few simple medical supplies, and other odds and ends. Cooking foods were sold in bulk. The rice, flour, beans and sugar. I would ask how much I wanted, and then the store owner weighed the food in a large metal hanging scale and then put it in a little plastic bag. And I could also buy little bags of milk. Even the fragile eggs were counted out from dozens of stacked eggs and then put into a little plastic bag. The duka I went to had a bakery connected to it, and I would get my mkate (bread) freshly baked every morning. Yum!
Generally though, perishable food items are bought from local neighbors and friends. I would either go to their house and buy the eggs or milk from their own cow or chickens they were raising. Or the fish guy, for example, would walk his bike around the village with his basket full of his fresh catch straight from the shore that morning. For special occasions the friends I lived with, would let their neighbor know they wanted goat or cow for the next time it was available.
On the weekends I would take the piki-piki—the bus- to the center of town where I could buy hosts of various local fresh fruit and vegetables. There, they also sold handmade crafts and woven baskets and handy shopping bags. All the different vendors were always so friendly. One time I remember in one of my earlier days, and in my newness to the currency, the owner came running after me to give me the 30 shillings I had overpaid! …It was always an adventure as each shopping trip was either such a learning (or practicing what I learned) experience…
…Well, sheesh I think that’s enough writing (and reading) about my shopping adventures so far…BUT, do NOT fret- more to come as I next describe what food shopping was like once I was married with kids while we lived in Alaska, Germany, and Hawaii!
In the mean time may your shopping (or non-shopping) be as adventurous (or non-adventurous) as you want it to be!