Produce Patriotism

A Pike Place Vendor

While shopping at the grocery store today, I was reminded of a line from Persepolis in which the recently emigrated protagonist sees her frequency of visits to the grocer as indicative of a need to go out and meet people. Well, perhaps I should find a few more friends in my new city, but I can’t help it: I really like going grocery shopping.

Without a regional giant such as H-E-B, Seattle seems to be able to harbor a larger variety of grocers, each catering to a specific socioeconomic stratum, ethics system, or cuisine affinity. And though capitalism usually leads to a consolidation of wealth that contributes nothing to personal happiness and unity, in this instance–against all odds–something has turned out right. My hypothesis is that a reduced reliance on automobiles has produced an environment in which any company can swoop in and grab a bunch of customers on the sole basis that these customers will have to walk/bike/bus for less time than before.

The results are encouraging. Metropolitan Market, QFC, Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s, Safeway, Uwajimaya, and others too numerous to name are all within minutes by bus (or foot!). My personal favorite is currently Metropolitan Market, a slightly upscale, Western, stocks-organic-but-not-afraid-to-sell-mainstream-brands, intimate shop with a great produce and deli selection.

I’m not quite sure what it is I like so much about a good grocery store. I think it is some combination of my loves for good cooking, good design, and picturesque places that draws me in. Typical American consumerism is as a matter of fact revolting, but the abundance on display at a good grocer makes me proud of my country. The colors and textures present in the produce section, the methodical, repeated rhythm of the logos in the soups and sauces aisle, and the hustle-and-bustle of the butchers and bakers imbue the surroundings with a sense of life unmatched anywhere except the open street markets–people are here to buy that they may go on living.

Choice can be paralyzing, but in this one instance, I’m happy to stand in front of a wall of jams trying to decide exactly which grape jelly I want this month.