Archive for May 20th, 2007

The Swedish Chef has been growing out his hair on the commune, but he has emerged to share his new recipe for Crushed Lifesavers. Unfortunately the hair makes it a little hard to aim his cutlery.

Hey, the Swedish Chef’s hair looks familiar. In fact, it looks exactly like my hair. Wait– it is my hair! What is my hair doing on his head? He must have sneaked in while I was napping and lopped off my ponytail! Oh, Swedish Chef, I can’t stay mad at you.

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Albertsons is the closest grocery store to my house and I have a love-hate relationship with it and with grocery shopping in general.  I love that feeling of being well-stocked that comes the first day or two after a trip to the store.   There’s nothing quite like opening the produce drawer in the fridge and seeing the not-yet-slimy bunch of cilantro hanging out with the summer squash and the mini carrots.  But actually acquiring the food is not so fun.  The grocery store feels like a magical labrynth that warps time and converts regular people into ghostly underworld versions of themselves.  Or anyway that’s what happens to me.
I’m the type of shopper who can get sucked into a time warp in the condiments aisle, wondering for minutes on end what the difference is between sauerkraut packaged in a can and sauerkraut packaged in a jar.  I wander back and forth multiple times between the regular cheese aisle and the specialty cheese kiosk, comparing prices on swiss.  I check the bags of frozen shrimp to see if they are deveined as well as shelled and then experience a moment of horror thinking about getting deveined myself.  Cooked shrimp are caucasian-colored and that curved back is like a tiny person back.  C’mon, it’s not that far fetched.

I’m fond of the Albertson’s because it is not too big, and thus cuts down on some of the trouble that bigger stores cause with their aisles of bottled water (so many shapes! So many  competing claims!) and seven kinds of tomato.  I also like it because the people who work there are friendly and usually refrain from calling me ma’am.    “Can I help you?” someone rushing by me in the sauerkraut aisle will ask,  kindly noticing my space cadet look.  One of the bag boys has a good voice and sings broadway tunes as he bags your groceries.

But wanting to help is not the same as actually being helpful, and the smallness of the store is also its problem. I’ve come to the realization that if I can’t find an item on my own, I’m probably out of luck. Here is a list of questions with which I have flummoxed the Albertson’s staff in recent months:

  • Where is the fish sauce?
  • What type of fish would be a good substitute for red snapper?
  • Where is the falafel mix?

For the fish sauce question we actually rounded up a group of clerks, some of whom produced Old Bay and tartar sauce, and others of whom stood with me reading labels in the soy sauce aisle.  No luck. I must not have been the only one to ask, though, because I noticed last week that they carry it now.   Tonight, asking about falafel got two blank stares and one suggestion to check by the bisquick.  Maybe I’l try to think of a new hard question each week, instead of waiting for them to arise along by accident.  Yes, that sounds fun.  I will have to branch out a bit in my cooking and the staff at Albertsons will get steady practice in learning their inventory.  Iron sharpens iron.