Shop til you drop

For the last few months I've been stopping by the surplus grocer every day, which I pretend is French behavior. You know the vibe? Sashay down to the greengrocer, canvas tote slung over shoulder, grabbing just enough for one night's dinner. "Shopkeep, fetch me dandelion greens, 1 pound of mussels, salted creamery butter, and a fresh baguette!" My version is more like this:

As mentioned previously, we can't count on the surplus grocer's inventory like a regular store. I'll be like "I think they have a bunch of ricotta now" or "let's check if there's tomato sauce," but it's not something to rely on. (Side story: Last week I saw an annoying woman from our building loudly ask "When are you gonna get brown eggs again?" Lady you simply must trust in the process.)

The problem — at least for me, who has a pathology — is that at any moment there could be some treasure on the shelf that I'm missing out on. As I write this, I'm considering what they might have right now.

Doesn't help that most times I leave the house I see a steady stream of refrigerated trucks disgorging their wares. (Yesterday I watched cases of iced green tea get dollied in from a busted gold minivan.)

My shopping is a harmless addiction, mostly. Abby teases me for the daily sojourns, and how I insist on an unboxing ceremony when I get home. But it's not like I'm down at the track, spending hard-earned dog food money on the ponies.

But make no mistake — there are consequences to my habits. Our freezer is jammed, our fridge is jammed, our cabinets are jammed, and I have 15 quarts of iced coffee on the floor of my closet. (I was quoted by the lovely Rachel Baron in a recent article on store-bought cold brew.) Our refrigerator repairman said hoarding is not great on the fridge motor!

Reveal: We bought a standalone freezer during the pandemic. I've wanted to admit that since I started this newsletter, but felt ashamed. Let's unpack that later, shall we?

XO,

Jesse

P.S. Check out this great piece from Cathy Erway on the joy in daily grocery store visits.

Featured Items

I didn't buy this yule log of baloney, and wasn't really tempted to. But I do want to talk about its branding. I could tell from the little logo that it's from Stop & Shop, so what's with "German Brand?" Welllll I forgot that S&S is owned by German corporation Ahold Delhaize (a fact I learned when editing this story). Still confused about slapping German Brand on the label.

Apparently this is the only Stop & Shop product branded in this fashion, and it begs the question as to why. German or not, this is not a product that shoppers will find classy. It honestly weirds me out more than anything from Oscar Mayer (also weighs like 200 pounds). If they are trying to cultivate the European authenticity market, why not also call their mustard or their sausage German Brand?

Here's the kicker: It says "Made in USA" very clearly on the label.

Abby loves to f*ck with the olive bar at an upscale market, while I'm a bit ambivalent (the black ones are fun to put on your fingers and wiggle around). I do appreciate Abby's passions though, and bought her these Peruvian olives as a treat. Didn't know how intense an olive can get, wowie! Quite challenging. It's like the olive version of stinky French cheese — good in wee doses. We bring these to picnics and manage to eat 2-3 before feeling overwhelmed. This jar has been in our fridge for 6+ months.

Want some?

I was psyched about this self-contained paella kit that comes with its own tin of mixed seafood — until Abby saw it for $4.99 at Foodtown. Sucker born every minute, amirite?

New seltzer flavor!!! Except it sucked. Vanilla never tastes right in water or coffee creamer. I crushed the can, though.

Abby's gonna divorce me for buying this bulk bag o' beef chili.