Relatively early in my marriage, I had gone to the grocery store--Albertson's on Perkins Road in Baton Rouge. The Internet tells me it's still there, though I don't know if the house where we lived is, but I lived about five minutes from the store. (By car, that is; one time my truck wouldn't start and I couldn't reach my husband on the phone, and I walked home carrying a large bag of dog food. That must have looked strange, and it was certainly exhausting. But this story isn't about that time, not that there's any more to tell.) Anyway, I had been gone for quite some time and Fred asked me where I had been for so long. When I said I had just been at the grocery store, I could tell that, although he believed me, he couldn't understand it. What could take so long? You go in, you get what you need, selecting the very cheapest option, and you leave. Simple. Well, it isn't for me.
When I go to the grocery store, I usually have a list, but it usually isn't a very comprehensive one. I always anticipate that I'll be looking for things that are on sale and things that are in season, so those things are hard to plan. I use coupons that they give me at the register, but I don't bother with buying the Sunday paper to get coupons, since I don't buy much processed food and it seems like the vast majority of coupons are for things like Hamburger Helper and Pop-Tarts and other things that I don't like and don't use.
Once I'm actually in the store, I start with things that don't have to be kept cold, i.e., baking goods, canned foods, and the like. I don't buy many canned items, but when I do buy them, I spend an agonizingly long time checking each can over for dents. One of my obsessive fears is botulism; I imagine carelessly using the contents of a dented can then, 18 hours later, Fred and I both struggling to reach the telephone, as the paralysis and breathing problems start taking over. So there I stand, studying my canned tomatoes and black olives and the occasional canned soup and canned beans. And for some reason tuna fish cans seem to be the worst offenders at being dented. I've shuffled through many a tuna fish can in frustration, looking for a perfect one.
On to produce--another time-consuming area. Is it even still possible to buy an orange that smells and tastes like one? There I stand, smelling oranges, trying to find out. And I smell cantaloupes. And peaches. And anything else that signals ripeness through aroma. What if I want cauliflower? Nine of ten heads have brown spots, so that takes a lot of culling. Potatoes require much study, to make sure they're firm and free of eyes and green spots. Onions have to be sorted through to make sure they have no mold. Asparagus, my most favorite vegetable--are the tips tight? Are the stalks limp? Did the store force me to buy too many poor-quality spears in order to get a few good ones? Same question with strawberries and other berries--are there moldy ones in the carton?
Produce finally over, I can move on to meat and dairy. Meats: that's a question of what's available that looks good. I can usually rely on baby back ribs, ground sirloin, and ham. But beyond that, it's a crapshoot, especially at my local grocery store. Pork chips are either too thin or ridiculously thick. Pork tenderloins come already marinated in flavors I don't want. Fred isn't fond of chicken (nor am I), so I have to really have something in mind before buying it. I've bought ribeye steaks that were too expensive to have as much gristle as they did. But we like meat and don't want grilled cheese sandwiches every night, so I do my best with what they have.
Dairy is probably the easiest. Short of making sure the milk and buttermilk aren't leaking and that their expiration date is far in the future, there isn't much to worry about. (Except, of course, the bigger questions: do I need to buy organic? Can I get away with 1% milk instead of skim? But I try not to philosophize about those things too much when I'm actually at the store; people are trying to get by.) Cheese, oh cheese--should I splurge on Gruyere or just pick up some Monterey Jack? My grocery store's house brand of unsalted butter is fine, and cheap. I admit I do like to splurge on a certain brand of free-range eggs if I'm at a store that carries them; they're $2.99 for six, but they are very fresh and have the deepest-colored yolks I've ever seen. I've bought farmstand eggs that weren't as photogenic. I don't buy much frozen food; other than the occasional ice cream purchase, I pretty much stay away from the freezers, so once I'm done with dairy, I'm (finally) ready to check out.
Even though I probably make grocery shopping harder than it should be, I really have been trying to minimize waste and carefully selecting what I need helps eliminate it. Some waste will sometimes be unavoidable, but if I plan well enough I should be able to use all or almost all of what I buy and not have things rotting in the produce drawers, molding in the cheese drawer, or becoming unrecognizable in the freezer.
Recommended reading: "Monday to Friday Cookbook," by Michele Urvater. It's a good mix of practical advice on planning meals, buying food and serving the family economically, but since Ms. Urvater's tastes are somewhat unusual it's a little different than your average family cookbook. Her rice pudding recipe, made with evaporated milk and raspberries, is the only one I've ever liked, and her polenta soup is delicious.
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