In a name

In our household patois, we call the surplus grocer "the dollar store" because the shabby awning looks just like 100 indie dollar stores dotting Harlem. It advertises all manner of housewares and miscellany, with only light mentions of foodstuffs. I initially thought this was a clever ruse, to ensure word-of-mouth was the only way you'd know of the store's existence. But then I decided that was goofy—what business tries to hide its true nature? (Don't say "illegal business" I'm not dumb ok.)

I now think the awning is simply a generic one that they never bothered to update because business is good enough without advertising. I don't know what kind of profit margins they run on (though I'm quite curious) but there is forever a steady stream of humans doing big shoppings at this store—they cycle through products at a brisk clip. For a shop that's like half the size of a CVS, there are always at least 5 dudes stocking shelves.

Back to the idea that the surplus grocer is a secret—it has crossed my mind that certain elements of its daily operations might not be up to health code. I'm more familiar with restaurant hygiene and safety laws than retail shops, so I'm unclear on whether, say, selling expired dairy could be an explicit code violation or if it's more of an at-your-own-risk situation.

What about the occasional times when a food item actually has turned? In the absence of a mandatory government recall due to salmonella or some such, is the business liable for someone getting laid up because they ate stinky surplus turkey?

I'm no libertarian by a long shot, but my attitude toward the surplus grocer is 100 percent "buyer beware." When the vast majority of foods they sell are a) totally fine and b) could otherwise end up in landfills, I think it's acceptable to absorb some risk as a customer. Not to mention the savings!

I've always been a bit secretive about its location because of a vague fear of giving it unwelcome exposure, either as a local secret or as a business operating in a legal gray area. Friends and strangers have DMed for the address and I've been reticent to share. Exceptions:

-mutual aid volunteers who were looking for ways to thriftily stock community fridges

-my friend Deirdre, because she's no snitch

-Jeff Orlick for some reason

Do you want to read its Yelp reviews, though? I'll share the link, but please be cool. If you ruin everything, I will know.

xo,

Jesse

Featured Items

I needed a half cup of peanuts for a wonderful recipe I was halfway through prepping. The surplus grocer often has roasted peanuts on hand—I used to bring them to The Counter's office as a shared snack—so I zipped around the corner to grab some. Alas, the above item was my only peanut option, requiring me to isolate peanuts from their nut cousins. I dutifully sorted through the nut jumble and probably ended up with a few cashew bits in the final shingaras.

Epilogue: After I bought the holiday sampler Abby noted she had already bought the same exact item. It was hidden under some tortilla chips on top of the fridge. "Aw nuts," I said.

Sometimes we'll buy something on impulse, then it'll sit in the cabinet or freezer for months. I mean, what's the occasion for 3-bean salad, really? We finally found the answer to that puzzler last week. A dinner paired with grilled jalapeno sausages and homemade cheddar-chive biscuits!

I learned that Aunt Nellie's is named after Nellie Kedzie Jones, a pioneer of rural home economics: For four years Jones wrote a series of articles under the title "The Country Gentlewoman" for "The Country Gentleman" magazine. In one particularly vivid series, Jones pretended to write letters to an imaginary niece named Janet from her "Aunt Nellie." She seems cool!

This is the primo shit y'all! I've bought the same item at Whole Foods for 8 or 9 bucks as a treat. Feels like one of those situations where the surplus grocery pricing squad didn't realize what a high-end item they had. Lucky moi! Abby and I put it on some good bagels, then added capers and red onion slivers for Peak Sunday Brunch. You all should join us sometime.

Fefferoni!!! Say it aloud. We were inspired to buy these duders after trying an addictive condiment at a hot chicken restaurant in Georgia. It was some kind of delicious fermented hot sauce where light green peppers sit floating in a clear brine (anyone know what that is?) ANYway these peppers weren't even remotely the same, but I'm still glad we bought them. They're mild and tangy—we chopped and sautéed some with roasted cashews and broccoli for vegan taco night. Come over I say!

🚨New flavor alert!!!🚨