It was early– 10 am in the morning– and I had bright, gorgeous escarole in my basket. I’d bought lamb shoulder meat for this recipe and I was dressed if not to the nines, then, well, perhaps to at least eight and a half in a batik-print skirt, navy twinset and sandals. I’d even put on some makeup and washed that grey right out of my hair.
These new, bright-shiny Whole Foods– they’re gorgeous, temples to food porn, and at 10 am, you have them all to yourself. Well, you and the stock boys. So, I wandered the aisles, finding all the things that I wanted and things I never knew that I needed, including a lovely bunch of dried lavender, some expensive but worth-it organic vitamin-c facial scrub I swear gets me carded when I buy booze, and some nice aged parmesan. As I contemplated my options in Health and Beauty Aids, having already rocked out to the music selections in Produce and Wine (Guns n’ Roses “Sweet Child of Mine”, Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine,” Bad English’s “When I See You Smile,”), I looked over all the bright and tempting promises of regained youth and beauty just as Kansas’ “Carry on my Wayward Son” came on the stereo. Loudly.
I couldn’t help it. I looked up and addressed the air. “I love this store,” I announced (kind of like the Muppet’s Veterinary Hospital, except in reverse). The stock-guy looked over and did a double take at my soccer-mom duds, my basket with lamb, red-wine, pimenton de la vera, and parmesan cheese.
“What are you making?” he asked. I showed him the recipe.
“Are you married?” he asked.
Yeah. I’ll be going back there. Real soon.
Scorpions’ “Winds of Change” was coming on as I was leaving the store. As if I needed any more reason to return. Perfect produce, good wine, cheesy rock music, ample room to maneuver the aisles.
Heaven, thy name is the Dedham Whole Foods. Just don’t change the radio channel.