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September 22, 2006
Glamorous Groceries
I took a little self-indulgent, nostalgic side-trip on my way home from Union Square this evening. Walking down 9th street, I was reminded that the old Balducci's on 6th Ave and 9th St.--the first gourmet grocery store I'd been to--had turned into a Citarella. The change happened a while ago, but I rarely come to this neighborhood, and when I do I'm usually accompanied by someone who has a low tolerance for leisurely browsing at pricey cheese counters. Because I still have fond feelings for that corner, I went in for kicks. (I've also just realized that I enjoy food shopping much more than any other shopping. I don't understand the whole clothes & accessories marketplace, but when it comes to food, I could (and do) spend hours in a grocery store. Soho clothes-shopping trips for me usually end up in Dean & Deluca, where I find an excuse to spend an hour inspecting sardine and anchovy packaging.)
When I first started coming to the city on my own, I usually ended up in the West Village -- Elephant & Castle was nearby, and 8th street makes itself accessible to teenagers (cheap hot dogs, racy t-shirts). I'm not sure when I first shopped at Balducci's, but I know it was pointed out to me by my parents as a swanky food establishment (they used to live in the neighborhood, which is possibly why I was familiar with the general area before I discovered, much later, that the city extended north of 14th and south of Houston). I remember being thrilled to find jamon serrano there while in college -- first, because it was something I loved in Spain (my Spanish mother took great pains to find a vacuum packed version that I could bring back in my suitcase), and second, because I could identify something behind the counter, which meant that I could participate in the number-taking and waiting and ordering as if I belonged in Balducci's and knew my way around the meat counter.
Today, the layout of the store is pretty much the same, and the items on offer are similar. I know a bit more about the food, thankfully, but am still wary of counters. I didn't plan to buy anything other than a wedge of cheese, but I kept picking things up. First, I found fresh dates on a vine, which I'd never seen. They were yellowish and some looked as if they had "ripened" to the point of being regular dates, while others looked like plums. I picked up some Italian plums for Derek and one of those overpriced blocks of fig cake. I also got fresh figs, a pomegranate, and some caramel cubes for munching on at work. I almost bought some "artisinal" salami.
I couldn't resist comparing the selection to the co-op. The prices were pretty much doubled, and aside from the salami and fig cake, I could have gotten everything there instead. I was paying for the old-style gourmet-grocery experience, though. There were all sorts of European offerings (but no sign of my favorite co-op yogurt, which I think is Australian or has something to do with a kangaroo). I walked past a woman whose cart was filled entirely with pre-made Citarella packaged meals (typical Manhattanite behavior). The checkout proficiency, I have to say, was nearly worth the extra cost (no explaining what everything is -- they KNOW!). It's not like I need to go there again for another five years, but it was a nice side trip and I left thinking that someone might mistake me for an old-school old-money West Village sophisticate.
Afterwards, I took my inflated ego and Citarella bag over to C.O. Bigelow to extend the fantasy. I convinced myself that I needed some travel supplies for the Spain trip. C.O. Bigelow is so quaint and lovely that you feel you need to have a lofty shopping purpose. The store feels European, too, which helped. Before I went to Spain the first time, I remember elaborate preparations (it was my first time leaving home for an extended period) and several new trip-specific purchases. They seemed extravagant to me at the time, because we couldn't really afford them, but the TRIP was all important and demanded such extravagance. I think I had a different wardrobe over there. Remembering this, I decided that I could spend $12 on a hair thing because, while I might not wear it here or really have a purpose for it, in SPAIN, well, it's another story. My Spain self will wear it incessantly. Also, Ladies who Lunch and shop at Citarella wear them, too.
By the way, why do we dress differently when we travel? Is it because we can, because people don't know us, so we can take risks? Or is it the location? Or is it just me?
One more food note: Derek's parents returned from a trip to Scotland with many, many packages of authentic Hob Nobs and digestive biscuits for us (they know what we like). I've been eating the non-chocolate ones for breakfast and the chocolate ones for dinner. They're like oatmeal, right? It's not like they're cookies or anything.
Posted by csageday at September 22, 2006 01:34 AM
Comments
Yes, yes, YES with the hob-nobs and the hair thingys.
I think the old dressing different on vacation is part of the whole vacation/let's move somewhere fantasy that surely, in a different fantasy place, you will be a different person. No one thinks of moving to the misty hills of Ireland and hitting the snooze button 13 times before you finally roll out of bed in time to eat the last crumbs of the empty package of Hob-Nobs on your way to be too late for the damn bus (again!) and have to walk to work in the shoes that never did fit quite right.
I certainly don't fantasize about travelling through Spain in the same boring jeans I'm wearing today that would probably get a hole while I'm there and I would have to go shopping while I'm there and I wouldn't understand the sizes or find anything that fit and end up with a really embarrasing combination of old lady pants and a belt from the men's section that isn't even very comfortable for the last few days of the trip and missing the last hour of that fantastic exhibit at the museum downtown because I couldn't find a place to change clothes.
Au contraire! If I were going to fabulous Paris, I would have longer, sleeker hair and a couple of really lovely, practical and fashionable fall skirts. I would float through the streets, being the first at the market in the morning to get the best of the good summer peaches, and I would be right next to that stall I know with the best fresh crepes, where the kind vendor gives me two for one.
If I were Italian, naturally, I would have perfect make-up and I would walk comfortably many miles a day in my perfectly polished stiletto heels. I would sit on a sunny sidewalk with my afternoon espresso before going back to my charming, sparely furnished apartment to make the evening's fresh pasta.
La, la, la...
If I only lived in New York, I would go to Citerella every two days to make a lovely little supper in my charming apartment with the lush windowboxes. I might pop over to C.O. Bigelow to re-stock my guest bathroom, and I would have been to the beautiful Jefferson Market library first and picked up a few smart novels and political analyses. I'd take a cab home with all my supplies.
Oh, wait! I guess maybe in New York I don't have a windowbox as much as two spiderplants that have wanted to be transplanted to the hallway for 6 weeks now, a cab all the way home to Brooklyn costs as much as dinner for two (and that is really saying something in this town), and those jeans? Well, they haven't busted yet.
I guess I would while away the last hours of the work week waxing poetic (or at least waxing) about the fabulous other people that I am. Have a grand trip, Cindy!
Posted by: Amber at September 22, 2006 04:31 PM
LOL. Great comment. Thanks for the reminder that 1) it is, actually, a fantasy and 2) we have things pretty good in Brooklyn, what with our co-op finds and urban ammenities. I do have a fixation with other people and my perception of how fabulous they are, no doubt. It's nice to be able to live a little bit of the fantasy on a week-long vacation, unrealistic though it may be. I forget that this is what all those dressed-up tourists are doing in Times Square -- and that's why they're so SLOW -- they're trying to make their short time as New York sophisticates laaassstt.
Why am I aspiring to this Citarella silliness? Maybe I need a break from myself. A bit hard to manage, that. Spain will be lovely, though -- my voice even changes when I speak Spanish, and I use difference expressions...I think I do manage to change a bit, for whatever reason.
Update: And you made me laugh about the windowboxes -- exactly.
Posted by: Cindy at September 22, 2006 07:10 PM