Wolf like me

Yesterday I got home at noon from a 15-hour overnight flight, feeling pretty ragged. Before naptime, however, I dragged Abby to the surplus grocer, a place I missed while in Maui. Not as much as I missed Abby or Lola, but keep in mind that they are warm and loving mammals—not dispassionate storefronts.

There was a bit of hoopla on our return to the store. Not to over-inflate our importance, but when you visit a small store virtually every day, the workers notice your absence. Mala thundered "Heyyyyy Jesse where you been?!!" from across the store, while one of the cashiers who really likes saying Abby's full name said "Hi Abigail" 5 or 6 times.

It was a whole thing.

While shopping, a tall man approached with a coy smile and said, "I wanna buy this chicken," pointing to a $4 package of drumsticks. I added the drumsticks to my basket, while he followed me around talking. This isn't the first time we've bought stuff for other shoppers.

Here's the thing: This guy made me feel like a mark. He flattered, flirted with me, told stories, said things like "I bet you lovvvvve getting a good deal." It felt like a routine he had employed before, and I didn't enjoy it.

Something very similar happened to me recently, but left no lingering aftertaste. Sitting on a bench on the Upper East Side, a guy said he was hungry, asked if I'd buy him a taco. So I bought him a taco. That's it.

The thing that bugged me about the drumstick incident was that the guy felt like I needed him to tapdance, like that was the only way I'd be willing to help. Although two things occur to me now that I'm writing this:

1. If he does this regularly, he knows how to get results better than I do. And if people are more likely to buy him stuff when he puts on a whole routine, that's less about him than it is about his (white) audience.
2. Perhaps the routine was for his own pride, not for my sake. Like ambient noise to distract himself from the bitter pill of asking a stranger for charity. I don't know.

One thing is certain: My neighborhood is one of Manhattan's poorest, and we need to put more food in our mutual aid fridge.

xo,

Jesse

Featured Items

I wrote about green juice for Consumer Reports and guess what: it's a scam (the tldr is that most of the fiber is removed, which is the healthiest part of fruit). Also this juice is way too big for our fridge, taking up valuable hot dog space. ANYway maybe this rude post will make Abby hurry up and drink her juice.

I also wish this surplus grocer gelato was gone but Abby decided halfway through that it wasn't a good flavor. I'll eat a bite here and there but I really don't love sweets. I think we've had this for six months now.

Along with Ellio's pizza and Lender's Bagels, these burritos were the top after-school snack for this latchkey kid. Cooking suggestion: Heat in microwave for one minute, seam side down. Flip it over, add some cheese, microwave one more minute. Sprinkle a pinch of salt, then serve. (Please note that Tina's makes other varieties but they're all bland garbage except for this one and Red Hot Beef.)

As newly converted ranch stans, Abby and I were just reading the Washington Post's ranch dressing power rankings. This was the number one dressing! At the surplus grocer! Brag.

(Note: It's delicious but a little thick, if you prefer your ranch to flow free and easy.)

Hawaii Haul

This is what I brought Abby from Hawaii. Food really is our love language.

(In the center are Filipino-style donuts, bottom right are "crab ship biscuits," top left is papaya guava hot sauce and chili-infused macademia oil. Not pictured are pickled mustard cabbage and fresh chow mein noodles. Two grapefruits and a tangerine were confiscated by customs.)