Miscellaneous Articles
How I’ve Become Like My Polish Grandmother When Out Grocery Shopping
Life has a funny way of circling back on itself, often in the most unexpected ways. Take grocery shopping, for example. As an undergraduate student in Chicago, I lived in a small attic apartment in my grandmother’s house. It was a quaint little setup, full of character and the faint aroma of pierogis. But there was a catch — my grandmother didn’t drive, so it became my duty (since I was getting free rent) to take her out grocery shopping. Little did I know, this would become a comedic exercise in patience and, ultimately, a lesson in life.
You see, my grandmother had a grocery shopping routine that would drive even a saint to the brink. She refused to just go to one grocery store and get everything. Oh no, that would be far too simple. Instead, she had a network of small stores she frequented — one for bread, another for Polish meats, another for produce, yet another for dairy and eggs, and so on. By the time we’d stocked her fridge, freezer, and pantry, we’d have driven to around a dozen little shops. Each stop felt like an episode of a sitcom, with me playing the begrudging chauffeur and my grandmother the discerning matriarch, inspecting every item with the scrutiny of a seasoned detective while I dealt with Chicago traffic.
Fast forward a few decades, and here I am — a mid-life adult, vegan, who rarely eats out and prefers cooking my own meals. And guess what? I’ve basically become my grandmother when it comes to grocery shopping. I’ve come to appreciate the charm and quality of small specialist stores or the occasional alternative to the Whole Foods mega store. The large grocery stores just don’t cut it for me when it comes to variety and quality of food. Plus, supporting smaller businesses feels good, like a small rebellion against the corporate behemoths.
I’ve taken the spirit of my grandmother’s food shopping approach and adapted it to my lifestyle. Now, instead of one-stop shopping, I have my own little circuit. Each visit to these small stores is like a mini adventure. I chat with the owners, learn about where the food comes from, and feel a sense of community that’s missing from the sterile aisles of the big-box stores. I suppose my grandmother was shopping correctly all along. She knew that quality and variety often reside in the small, tucked-away corners of the city. Though, to be honest, the food she cooked wasn’t often that healthy. Frying meat pierogis in lard is a far cry from my plant-based concoctions, but the principle remains the same.
It’s funny how life turns out. I used to grumble about my grandmother’s insistence on visiting multiple stores. Now, I embrace it, relishing the journey of piecing together my weekly groceries from various shops. My grandmother would probably laugh at how I’ve come full circle, turning into a modern version of her — sans the lard and with a penchant for quinoa.
