Oral supplements

Several weeks ago I started a 2-part post, promising more information about our extracurricular shopping habits. Then I forgot! You must have been so upset, but also this newsletter is free.

ANYway here is a list of our supplementary food suppliers. Most of our home-cooked meals involve combinations of surplus and non-surplus items, though it's a heady feeling when we manage to cook a meal entirely sourced from our favorite store.

The Veggie Bag

Every Wednesday, directly underneath the sprawling commuter rail tracks at Park and 125th, Abby and/or myself pick up a paper bag filled with six (6) types of fruits and vegetables. It's similar to a CSA, except a) we don't have to prepay in advance of the growing season, b) it comes from a variety of local farms rather than just one, and c) it's offered year-round (in winter they'll sometimes slip in greens or tomatoes grown in the South).

The veggie bags are offered through GrowNYC, an organization that oversees most farmers' markets in the city. These subsidized bags are distributed in 5 different underserved locations, in an effort to increase fresh produce options for local residents. Bags are offered on a sliding scale from 14 to 20 bucks (we pay the high end).

The program's goal is less about peddling bougie organic produce than encouraging healthy eating habits in less affluent neighborhoods. This is where Abby and I get fresh produce to mesh with all the discount proteins and other surplus grocery treasures. And because we never know what veg we'll get in advance, it's another way of letting ingredients dictate our menu planning.

We sometimes buy supplemental items with our veg bags, like pastured eggs or homemade Sriracha or Orwashers sourdough. Also the bag pickup doubles as a place to drop off our compost, and all the volunteers are super friendly and fun! Really no complaints with anything here, except that they give us far too many apples. Abby calls this "our special burden."

Foodtown

Not gonna lie—we staged a boycott of Foodtown when it opened nearb in late 2019. It's one of NYC's middling supermarket chains, nothing really remarkable about it (also see: C-Town, Associated, Met Foods, and of course Western Beef). Our household boycott was prompted largely by the fact that Foodtown opened directly across from a smaller grocer called City Fresh that we were used to.

It took us months to realize that Foodtown was far superior in terms of selection. The produce is fresher, it has a large Asian ingredient section and lots of esoteric spices, and they're the only place around selling CBD beverages. Our loyalty to CityFresh was misguided—honestly they're kind of mean! Trust me.

Foodtown is largely a supplemental shop for us, filling in the blanks on our surplus grocer-driven recipe planning. We'll pop over there for like one or two things, scallions or ginger or chili paste or cardamom. We never use a full grocery cart. Side note: Their workers are very sweet and like to razz me for spending 6 bucks on CBD tonic.

Whole Foods

When I first looked at Harlem apartments some years back, the rental brokers always mentioned each location's proximity to the local Whole Foods. This was so irritating! Why don't you also tell me where I can get a decent draft kombucha on my way to Pilates? (I doth protest.)

ANYway, this particular Whole Foods, opened in 2017, has been controversially transformative in Harlem. Some outlets noted the Whole Foods effect, wherein the mechanisms of gentrification go into hyper-speed after a new location opens. And of course, Amazon ownership isn't great. So there's a significant part of us that avoids shopping there on principle.

But I will confess, at the beginning of the pandemic, when we carefully limited our shoppings to once every 3 weeks, we were WF regulars for a minute. We made Shopping Day a twofer: a multi-hour experience that started at the surplus grocer and meandered over to Whole Foods. We considered it an acceptable, temporary indulgence—to spend our disposable income on posh groceries that would lend a bit of sunshine to the housebound gloom.

But I'm proud to say we rarely shop there now! Don't need to.

Online/miscellany

Sometimes we go online for special ingredients. This includes the delightful Taiwanese treats from Yun Hai, the tortilla subscription service offered by Rodriguez Bakery in Idaho, and the admittedly super-precious spice selection at Burlap & Barrel.

These orders are intentional and need-based, but we also get occasional free samples from public relation firms, a product of working in food media for years. This doesn't happen as often anymore, but we are currently using fancy PR salt from a South African boutique, and earlier this year we got a hand-delivered batch of "Texas Twinkies" from a Hill Country BBQ joint.

Oh and we sometimes receive food gifts from our loved ones. Like our friends sent us an Edible Arrangements bouquet while The Counter was falling apart, which Abby deconstructed and added to her daily smoothies. And my mom sent us a ton of meat from Wisconsin, for some reason.

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I think that's it! Consider this list an exercise in transparency—not every need can be satisfied by the surplus grocer.

xo,

Jesse

p.s. I asked Abby if she could think of anywhere else we get food and she said "I ate an old Delta Airlines biscotti the other night?" So there you go.

Featured Items

I bought this to include in a surplus gift box for Pearse, then I smoked a little cannabis and decided I wanted to try it on chicken. Sorry Pearse! Good balance of fiery and sweet, but the brand itself sure is mysterious.

Potato chips from Estonia! Haven't tried these yet but I'm psyched. Was a little shocked to see chips sold in this format but then I thought about Pringles. There are probably lots of unexpected ways to package chips—we are only limited by our own imaginations. Also I went to Estonia once. Isn't that interesting?

I pan-fried these last night and put 'em on toasted potato rolls with remoulade, pickles, tomatoes and greens. Fairly tasty, but I couldn't outrun Abby's principled opposition. She doesn't like fakery from companies like this, creating a false hierarchy where meat/fish need to be emulated and replicated. "Just call it a plant patty!" Abby protests, in between bites of her delicious dinner.

This brand is so idiosyncratic and close to our hearts. Doña Oliva is a Chilean olive oil company that may not even exist anymore. Yet the surplus grocer ended up with massive amounts of its product, enough to be the only olive oil we've used throughout the pandemic. We've grown so attached, in fact, that I made sure Alex would include Doña Oliva in the Haul logo. Sadly we only have a few bottles left, and will have to start using normie olive oil soon. (Side note: Our stockpile is surely rancid, no?)

I find this product kind of unsettling, but I can't articulate why.