I admit it: I hate grocery shopping
All I wanted was a bowl of cereal.
So I did what anybody would do: I walked to the closest cafe, bought an iced coffee, chugged it and filled the empty cup with milk.
This is how much I hate grocery shopping. I will do anything, including pilfer, to avoid the task. As a result, my kitchen is so barren and spotless that you could eat off the floor — if I ever had food to serve on it, that is.
Being a food writer, I’ve always kept this dirty little secret to myself, afraid that colleagues and readers would label me as a fraud because I didn’t have one of those pristine, photo-ready pantries stocked with Maldon salt and $18 pickles.
I should acknowledge that it’s a luxury to be in a position where I can dislike grocery shopping and afford to eat out. I’m a single woman with no family to feed, and I have disposable income to spend on dining out.
I recognize that these things grant me a level of privilege not everybody experiences.
“We have to appreciate how lucky we are to go grocery shopping every day,” says Michael
Ruhlman, author of “Grocery: The Buying and Selling of Food in America.”
“This is a chore you should say, ‘I know I don’t like it, but I’m very lucky to be able to do it.’ ”
My reasons are as varied as your supermarket’s tomato sauce selection: The lack of clocks and mazelike layout lead me to believe whoever designed the store is tricking me. Putting the milk all the way in the back? Nice try. Why make the trek when the coffee shop on my street keeps it right by the door?
In discussing my attitude with friends, I’ve learned that I’m not alone.
I also learned that a num- ber of them find joy in grocery shopping. My response: Tell me your secret.
People in both camps have suggested I try alternatives to the typical bricks-and-mortar shop.
Take the farmers market. The addition of dogs and free apple samples makes shopping for food slightly more enjoyable, but for me the fun stops there.
I can’t get over the fact that a head of lettuce costs $7, or that at 9:30 a.m. the bagel stand is already sold out.
I’ve found it impossible to source a week’s worth of food there, partly because the prices are so exorbitant and partly because my abysmal cooking skills are not worthy of such beautiful produce.
I’ve tried same-day grocery delivery services, and while it’s relaxing to shop from home, I’ve had mixed results. Because I’m not physically in the store to cruise the aisles, I tend to overlook crucial items, like that time I forgot to request hummus and spent a week dipping vegetables in ketchup (from a packet, naturally).
Grocery store operators are coming up with novel ways to make the experience more enjoyable.
Last year, a Whole Foods in New York City began offering shoppers a “produce butcher” who chops your fruits and vegetables for you.
To cultivate a stress-free environment, another supermarket in Richmond, Va., introduced free meditation classes.
And an increasing num- ber of shops are building bars into their design to encourage lingering.
“Grocery operators are asking themselves, ‘How can we make it easier for you?’ ” says Rich Majors, chief operating officer at BRR Architecture.
“They’re looking for intriguing ways to turn what was previously a chore into an enjoyable experience.”
Well, I’m not buying it. For me, nothing could be more enjoyable than letting someone else do the shopping — and, while they’re at it, the cooking too.