Playing Catch-Up

I have been working on this post for days and keep coming back to it. You'd think after all this time it would be worth something, but I'm not sure I'm actually going anywhere with it. I thought maybe letting it mull over would make things better but instead I'm just kind of procrastinating at this point. But darn it, I'm going to finish it this morning.

It's been more than a week since I posted anything here, and almost two weeks since I published anything of substance. And back then, I promised an update on my blog about "Whatever Happened to Real Food?"

One thing I wanted to talk about was the evolution of grocery stores. How in the world did we ever get to the long shelves of  Here's a picture of my great-grandpa's general store, located in the mining town of Redridge in Upper Michigan, in the early 1900s:

This is what a grocery store used to look like.It was amazing what these stores would offer in what seems like an incredibly small space these days. You can see that the huge windows in front and the smaller overhead windows on the sides probably let in more light than was common in many Main Street stores these days. I'm guessing the store was open comparatively limited hours, according to our standards--probably mid-morning to early evening--and of course it was closed Sundays so the family could rest. The rest of the week, Mr. Grocer was probably spending his days cleaning the store as he chatted with his customers while they decided what they needed this week. 

My mother remembers visiting her grandparents when they lived in Wabeno, Wisconsin, where my grandfather owned his own store rather than leasing it from the mining company. She remembers shelves filled with dry goods, staple foods like flour, sugar, oats, and others in bulk bins (that have now become popular at self-serve grocery stores--but would you buy flour from those today? Really?), and even some occasional special items like oranges and bananas. 

Where was the produce department? At home in people's gardens. Or, during those long northern winters, in their root cellars. But nowadays we have come to expect the brightly lit, fully stocked, shiny produce counters in our supermarkets. 

I vaguely remember grocery stores like this when I was growing up, although even in the 1960s the majority of our shopping was done at a Kroger or A&P store, or maybe at a locally owned IGA. The marketing of our food shopping was changing even back then. Big supermarkets were starting to overtake the small main street groceries, with national advertising campaigns and more selection. And it's just gotten bigger and bigger since then, with WalMart, Meijer, Super Target and Super KMart all incorporating their huge grocery stores with every other item you might possibly need. One-stop shopping has become the buzz word of our times. But it's not the same one-stop shopping as the old time grocery stores. 

Is more really better? Sometimes there is so much to choose from it can be overwhelming. When did we suddenly want eight different flavors of Wheat Thins? Or 23 different varieties of Tuna Helper? Or six brands of canned beans or peaches? And I have changed that word to "want" from "need." We certainly don't need all of those things. It's just that our wants have become so all encompassing that we have found ourselves always wanting more. We think we need it, but do we, really? No matter--the marketing departments at the Big Food Companies are happy to comply. After all, we're making them more money, too.

And by the way, when is the last time that you had a real conversation with the check-out clerk at one of those stores--assuming, of course, that there actually was a human at the register? 

I have been doing a lot of shopping lately at a little store called Aldi. While one of my friends is known for calling it the "welfare store," I think that's a misnomer. The prices are definitely more affordable than even most of the mass market stores like Meijer or WalMart. And a lot of that is because there is only one brand of most items offered. You can get two different kinds of canned green beans--French cut or regular. You can get pineapple slices or pineapple chunks. No "tidbits" or crushed pineapple. No Del Monte. It's all one brand: Happy Harvest. Take it, or leave it. They have brown rice and white rice. They have four or five different kinds of pasta--not a couple of dozen. But it's good quality, and it moves quickly so the selection is usually very fresh.

If you're looking for quick dinners, they do have "Rice Bowl" dishes kind of like Rice A Roni, or they also have a few different flavors of boxed rice and pasta dinners. Maybe a few different types of mashed potatoes. And the freezer compartment has a selection of prepared dinners, too. They have no prejudice against junk food, I'll give them that.

The produce department is also fairly simple. And when they run out, they run out. Last time I went, there was no celery. No explanation--just no celery today. Sometimes they will have avocados and sometimes they won't. Sometimes the potatoes are from Idaho and other times from Michigan. But once again, the food is inexpensive and what is there is usually of decent quality. 

Of course, most of the food, particularly the produce, is not what you would consider "local," unless you are talking at least American. However, the Aldi corporate offices are based in suburban Chicago, so at least it's not too far away from me. 

Most of what I like about shopping there is the relative simplicity. Of course, there are new items each time I shop. And half of one aisle (which is actually about 1/10th of the store, since most of the Aldi stores I've been to are only five aisles long) is dedicated to odds and ends like kids' toys, small household appliances or tools, and so on. But overall, it's probably one of the easiest shopping trips I do during the month. 

The only hectic part is when the checker starts tossing the items that you've just placed on the counter, right back into your cart. Oh, that's right--it's your job to bag the groceries and if you haven't brought your own bags (or picked up some boxes along the way) you'll need to buy your own at the checkout. There's not a lot of time for chatting with the girls (or guys) at the register--they're too busy getting on to the next customer. But that's probably the most anxiety-ridden part of the whole process. And the "sticker shock" at the end is usually a lot less than you'd expect.

I haven't heard yet that Aldi food comes from China. I hope it doesn't ... but if you find out that it does, please tell me. I'll probably have to find another solution. This one is not perfect, by any means. But it's getting me back to basics, and that's what I am looking for right now. 

Until someone starts emulating my great-grandpa's grocery store, this is going to have to do.