Organically Groan

Healthy eating is a challenge for most people, me included. So far, I've successfully avoided seeing the movie "Food, Inc." because  I can safely assume there are some things about the foods I eat I'd rather not know.  My fantasy diet has been carefully crafted and maintained, and to see fat-free hot dogs for who they truly are could mean the end of an era.

I can't, however, deny the continuous insistence by my two favorite fitness magazines that organically grown foods are going to help me perform better not only in workouts, but in life.  According to them, these foods will protect me from diseases too numerous to mention, give me the skin of a supermodel, add 30 years to my life, and keep me from texting and driving (well, maybe not that last part, that might have been a separate article).  However, the touted benefits were convincing enough to make me drive 5.6 miles out of my way to the motherlode of all things pesticide-free, Whole Foods.

I originally had one goal, to visit the only produce section; a fact-finding mission to determine whether the purchase of organic fruits and veggies would make good economic sense.  Lucky for me, the store's layout catered to my needs.  The store did not, however, understand my need to have space between my car and the next one in the parking lot.  Poor design? Or perhaps some grass roots endeavor to save the metropolitan flora and fauna?  Who knows, but narrowly escaping a door ding shattered my sunshiny vision of the future of my shopping trip.  It seemed everyone had chosen Tuesday afternoon at 3:00 to go organic.  And they'd each driven three cars.

At any rate, I grabbed my significantly-smaller-than-normal-sized recycled plastic shopping cart and headed for the table bearing the first fruit I recognized:  blueberries.  Now I love fresh blueberries, but the expense is often a deterrent.  This week, however, the organic ones were reasonably priced, so I picked up a package and continued my produce journey.  I passed over some tomatoes of unique colors and some starfruit (since I don't really believe it makes anyone a "star"), and looked around for some more familiar items.  The apples, abundant if not in season, were incredibly pricey for a fruit that in 3 months will be better tasting and way cheaper.  I tossed a couple of pineapples and some peaches in the cart and promptly decided that since I'd had some luck I'd continue on to the rest of the store.  I had high hopes at this point, thinking that maybe I'd just change my eating habits and be All Organic All the Time.   

I turned to the next section and quickly figured out that the concept embraced by the store's parking lot geniuses applied to the aisle design as well.  Too many people, too much standing around in front of shelves.  But, again, fate was on my side. It was the cereals and grains aisle, one that is near and dear to my little carb-loving heart.  I started scanning the boxes, momentarily forgetting that my friends Cap'n Crunch and that silly rabbit wouldn't be welcome here.  It was, instead, a world of granola.  There was healthy granola, lowfat granola, granola with almonds, granola without almonds, granola with flax seed, granola with sunflower seed, and granola with yogurt-covered raisins (which, by the way, are nothing more than white-chocolate raisinets made to fool people into thinking they're not eating candy). I panicked a bit, until I noticed the word "graham" in a familiar-looking box. Excitedly, I peered closer. But alas, they were Bunny Grahams, the distant and slightly inferior cousins to the Teddys I know so well.  I reached for the box but thought better of it and snatched my hand away as if I'd been burned.  I glared at it with a look of derision and disappointment. Stupid bunnies.

I suddenly remembered that I'd been reading a lot about quinoa, a protein that acts like a grain, and knew immediately this was the place to pick some up for a new cooking adventure.  I found it in the next aisle over, housed in a giant shelving system full of clear bins.  I quickly located a plastic bag and a twist tie.  Strategically placing the plastic bag under the bin, I drew out the lever that allowed the quinoa to fall neatly into it.  Afterward, I grabbed one of the "pencils on a string" and proudly labeled it with the appropriate bin number (I'm no dummy, I've shopped at Mr. Bulky's).  As I started to maneuver my cart around the audience of bin spectators, one poor man accidentally placed his bag too far under, in front of, or behind the bin of rice, proceeding to pull the lever and shower the tile floor with grains.  I hesitated, wondering if I should pull a Good Samaritan maneuver and help out.  Instead I chose to merely visualize his embarrassment and send sympathy karma toward him without a word.  This was Whole Foods, after all, so karma was definitely the way to go.  As I rounded the next corner and heard the poor man's second attempt go awry, I was certain I'd made the right decision.  He definitely needed more than I could provide...this job was going to require an associate with a broom and dustpan.

I could go on and on about the last section of the store, the deli/salad bar/bakery section, but I'll save that for another blog post.

I finally made my way to the check out with my measly 2 pineapples, my blueberries, the peaches, and my bag of quinoa.  The young checker with a friendly smile asked, "Did you find everything okay?"  I laughed and replied that I had certainly tried.  That was when he offered to give me a welcome packet and a tour of the store, and assured me that all the workers were very well-versed in the foods and various preparation methods.  I politely declined, except for the welcome packet that consisted of a small recycled-paper bag with a couple of health flyers and some salmon recipes inside.  No map of the store, or glossary of organic food vocabulary.

It'll be a while before I can venture over there again. A shopping trip that complicated deserves an appropriate amount of presearch, and it turns out life just might be too short.  Of course, if organic shopping actually adds 30 years to your life, why not spend them thinking up new ways to cook quinoa?