Economies of taste
Recently we had a Henry’s Farmers Market open nearby and today I decided to check it out. Here’s what I found: Lots of fresh produce at low prices, and a store layout only slightly less confusing than the exit strategy for Afghanistan. The western end of the store runs left to right and seems to be divided between “organic” home remedies and, well, gussied-up candy and snacks; the left middle of the store features traditional supermarket shelving running back to front; the very middle of the store is populated with free-standing carts of produce and barrels of nuts, grains, and more candy;and the eastern wall is tracked by an expansive seafood section, a tiny deli around which eight or ten people jockeyed for position in front of a two-person counter area, more racks and cabinets, and what looked like another pullcart, this one hauling roasted chickens. Less than a farmers market, the store looks like a gypsy caravan broke down and stayed. Henry’s is a less bohemian Trader Joe’s, with airs: decorated in that country chic style that certain social strivers overpay for.
Everyone working there was very courteous. I hadn’t really thought about the relative friendliness of the local Albertson’s , my usual supermarket — I’m not trying to strike up lasting friendships, I’m just trying to get my groceries and get out — but now that the people three miles away are treating me better and charging me less, it’s hard not to notice. On Sundays, I tend to cook seafood (to the delight of my son and the chagrin of his sister, which just delights him more), and I either buy wild-caught salmon or I don’t buy salmon. I don’t want color added to it, and I prefer the taste and the nutritional quality of wild-caught. I don’t know what farm-raised (and color-injected) salmon goes for, but around here, wild-caught salmon is usually $14-$16 a pound. (At that price, it must be a truly wild time catching it.) Henry’s had it at $10.99 a poud. I bought it.
I had in my cart two bottles of Chianti at $6.99 each. I don’t know why I’m buying Chianti lately instead of Shiraz, but I am. Supposedly, your body craves food that contains nutrients or minerals you lack at that moment; according to this theory, when you “have” to have that glass of orange juice, it’s because you’re low on vitamin C. I guess I’ve recently met my minimum daily requirement of Shiraz but am suddenly low on Chianti, because now it’s this perceptually low-grade Italian restaurant table wine I have to have. It’s like going from reading Rilke to slugging your way through Mickey Spillane. I had just rounded the corner of one of those bizarre freestanding units that Henry’s seems to have picked up at an out-of-business rustic swap meet when I came across this entire end cap display for Crane Lake wine. I had never heard of Crane Lake wine. But at $2.99 a bottle and with a name that wasn’t Charles Shaw, I figured I’d try it. The helpful guy carefully stacking all the numerous varietals suggested something he apologized for not being able to pronounce:
“I hear the San… San… Sanjo — I can’t even say it.”
“Sangiovese?” I asked.
“Yeah, sorry, that’s it,” he said. “I hear that’s good.”
So I bought two bottles of the San-San-Sanjo and a bottle of the cabernet and two of the chardonnay, each at $2.99, and put back the two bottles of chianti at $6.99, and also the two bottles of Robert Mondavi chardonnay that I’m even embarrassed to say here that I was going to buy because, let’s be honest, it tastes like Robert Mondavi fell into it and never got back out.
Now I’m eating my reduced-price “gourmet” popcorn and drinking my San-San-Sanjo while writing this, and you know what, it’s all actually pretty good. Here’s one review I found of the Crane Lake Sangiovese, and here’s another one. Here’s my favorite line: “As for the Sangiovese? Eh, not bad, nothing to get excited about. Certainly preferable to really cheap Chianti.” I feel vindicated. Even if, as this reviewer claimes, Crane Lake is just, wait for it, the alter ego of Charles Shaw.