Goodies First

La Vaguada

Ok, this is it, no mas. I'm finally finished the with sporadic Madrid recapping. But I would feel empty inside if I didn't briefly mention my mall excursion. I always visit a mall when on vacation. Obviously, I only travel to big cities, but even Penang had one, which only surprised me a little since Asians have quite an affinity for mall culture. Only Mexico City posed problems with its Santa Fe mall hidden way on the outskirts, inaccessible by public transportation. (Not really surprising at all considering their seeming lack of a middle class. Maybe that's why NYC can't sustain a proper mall either, too-rich and too-poor all smooshed together.)

Madrid had more than one centro comercial to choose from; we picked La Vaguada because you can get there smoothly on the subway. I figured it would be a rinky-dink Manhattan Mall atrocity, but it was the real deal with an enormous supermarket, or rather a hipermercado, Alcampo, that was way larger than Fairway, and that was just the bottom floor. Upstairs, they sold washing machines, plus-size smocks, saws, and more relevant to my needs, a cheap corkscrew. I should know the answer to this since I cover retail topics at work (I’ll look into it tomorrow) but why do we not have grocery stores inside US malls? Here, I'd appreciate the convenience. In other countries, for the fun of experiencing packaged foreign food.

I feel self-conscious taking photos inside grocery stores, but do regret not capturing the entire towering aisle heaving with hoof-on whole jamon. Canned seafood is also allotted an unusually large proportion of shelf space.

The heart (or I guess if you were corny like me, you could say stomach) of any mall is its food court. I didn't know what to expect from a Spanish food court. And it wasn't really fast foody (no Cinnabon but a homegrown chain Canel Rolls with savory versions like cheese and bacon) but a level ringed by sit down restaurants and tapas bars (and a hair salon, movie theater and video store), almost exclusively Spanish in culinary style.

Bocatin is a taberna specializing in sandwiches, a.k.a. bocadillos. Way in the background is Gran Sol Marisqueria  and Cervecería. I like that beer is prominently mentioned everywhere. Drinking in an American mall just seems weird.

The non-Iberian offerings included The Wok, Istanbul, L'Alsace and Cantina Mariachi. It was also hard to ignore the plywood covered a giant coming soon ad for Taco Bell, fittingly with a larger than life packet of mild salsa. The first public (naval bases don't count) Taco Bell in the country opened not so long ago in December. The chain has never been a success in Europe (or Mexico, duh) so I wonder how the Spanish will take to Crunchwraps.

We chose a random casual eatery, Cervecería Gambrinus, that I later saw all over the place. Their logo is a portly pageboy’d Falstaffian guy called Gambrinus. From what I could deduce the lore is German not Spanish. Maybe it’s like our use of Friar Tuck in association with drinking establishments.

I love gambas al ajillo, maybe even more so for the saucy remnants. I could just pour the shrimp, chile and garlic infused olive oil into and dish and eat it alone with crusty bread.

Ok, so we ordered chicken wings, a.k.a. alitas. You get what you deserve doing such a thing but we were curious. Pallid tomato sauce inevitably accompanies fried chicken parts in other places (marinara in Hua Hin). I realize putting blue cheese or ranch dressing on poultry is an American abomination.

Because I'm childish this café gave me pause. I thought a bit, and duh, it's a cute abbreviation of Vaguada Mall.

One of the cool things was that despite housing a clean modern supermarket (and a weirdo smallish storefront that only sold packaged frozen food—can you imagine an entire store devoted to Tombstone Pizza, Banquet Chicken and Hungry Man Dinners?), the shopping center also had a series of rows emulating traditional market stalls: seafood, produce, dried legumes and nuts, butchers, cheese and the like.

Just across the way, on the same floor, was a tattoo parlor. Not so traditional, I would say.

La Vaguada * Monforte de Lemos 36, Madrid, Spain

Pining Away for Nuts

Wegmans, my newfound grocery diversion, doesn’t quite bring tears to my eyes, but it is growing on me.

Despite just about everyone I know, professional and personally, living in Brooklyn, I never ever run into people I know while conducting routine business. Yet while spending an early Saturday evening at a supermarket 27 miles from home, I bump into friends next to the brussels sprouts bin. Ok, it wasn’t really that crazy since Sherri’s boyfriend lives right near the Wegmans in question, but it was still absurd.

I’ve only been twice so I’m still figuring out the lay of the land. The store is enormous and laid out nonsensically, if you ask me. However, I was proven wrong about the two unfindable items on my maiden visit. This time I stumbled upon the polenta, weirdly placed with organic produce (not that I’ll ever need it again since I rarely cook polenta). And Evan had a shot of corn tortillas on his phone, which I did double check on, though I know for a fact that they were missing from the refrigerated case last time.

But just to ensure at least one bugaboo, this time pine nuts were nowhere to be seen. Not even in the bulk section, where to their credit, I was able to buy 48-cents worth of currants. Thwarted by pignolis.

Please Sir, Can I Have Some Más?

I’ve never been to a Sam’s Club, which I think is like a Wal-Mart owned Costco, right? But I still love the idea of Mas Club, a warehouse store devoted to products shipped from Mexico.

I don’t know how this will translate here since we’re more of a plantain than a tortilla city. They’ll probably only put them in Texas, Arizona and California. Ok, nevermind, we don’t have Sam’s Clubs in NYC anyway.

In New Jersey and the outer boroughs I’m accustomed to big Asian supermarkets but we don’t really Latino equivalents, at least that I’m aware of. That’s why I was so wowed by Mariana’s in Vegas a few years ago. That market is probably no big deal to West Coasters where freshly baked conchas and myriad types of tripe are easy to find.

I would like to pretend that I grew up eating wonderfully nuanced Mexican food, but the truth is that my family’s favorite venue was Taco Time. The regional chain was/is better than Taco Bell because they deep-fry their skinny burritos, which are like a cross between a chimichanga and a flauta and they serve Mexi-fries, glorified tater tots. I very rarely get homesick for the Northwest but I have fond Taco Time memories.

What Makes a Grocery Store Gourmet?

The jury (well, me) is still out on Gourmet Fresh, the new grocery store in my bizarrely grocery store deficient neighborhood, that’s owned by the same proprietors of the world’s worst Key Food that shuttered a few years back. I want to dislike it but it seems neutral enough, at least upon a cursory inspection. Still not sure what gourmet means, though.

It certainly looks more appealing your ordinary Brooklyn supermarket, it’s tiny and somehow upscale—I think all it takes is using wood floors instead of linoleum and lots of freestanding metal racks as shelving.

I do my real grocery shopping on weekends at more substantial stores (Fairway or Western Beef if I’m staying in the boroughs or Costco, Trader Joe’s and a Shop Rite or Wegman’s if I’m in NJ) but I tested Gourmet Fresh on three staples I eat nearly every day: Wasa crackers, Fage yogurt and oatmeal.

They struck out in an odd way on the yogurt. They carried the brand in every variety: 5%, 0%, full fat, 2% with honey, 2% with jam…but no plain 2%? The 0%, which I broke down and bought, is just sad and now the rest of my week won’t be the same. $1.99 is pretty standard for NYC, I can’t complain about the price.

$3.39 seemed kind of high for the crackers. I’m blanking what I normally pay for them but I feel like it’s under $3.

They had plenty of oatmeal brands and flavors to choose from. I also think the $3.79 price tag was a touch pricey but typical for the area. I can’t really compare it to the boxes at Trader Joe’s since they’re different beasts.

I don’t know what groceries are supposed to cost anymore. Does $13.15 seem about right? I’m incredibly cheap, even by tightwad standards, so it’s hard to gauge.

I might do a comparison at neighboring…hmm…I had no idea the nearby store that was featured in the New York Times yesterday is called Good Food Supermarket. I know they have the yogurt for maybe a dime cheaper but their brands are more basic and I’m not convinced I’ll find the crackers and oatmeal. But I will see.

Bulking Up For the Winter

Why don’t run-of-the-mill grocery stores in NYC sell bulk food? This was literally keeping me awake last night. I yelled the question repeatedly from my bedroom into the kitchen where James was doing dishes and garnered no response until my third attempt got a ridiculous “It’s not worth answering.” That’s absolutely not true.

A million years ago when I first moved to NYC I was stymied by the Associateds, Key Foods, C Towns and the like packaging everything up for you in Styrofoam and cling film or plastic containers. What if I only wanted a handful of white mushrooms or half a cup of pecans? It seemed so wasteful to force large amounts of perishables on a shopper.

My genius idea would be selling fresh herbs in bulk. Of course, there wouldn’t be much profit in this business model. I can never use 20 thyme sprigs or even a whole cilantro bundle before it starts to go bad.

I’m still not sure if it’s a space and convenience issue; it’s just easier for a store to present you with ready-to-go items, if it’s hygiene like too many hands touching the goods, that people would just take food and not pay or that New Yorkers have a more difficult time than the average consumer with self-service (I tend to believe the latter having seen way too many jams and general cluelessness at the few stores that offer self-checkout).

My big scam when I was a younger teen and candy was enough to make my day, was filling my baggie with bridge mix and writing down the code for chocolate-covered peanuts, which were way cheaper. I only got busted once, which was no big deal because you could just play dumb. People were more trusting. This was during the era when stores would sell kids cigarettes with notes from their parents (I had a neighbor in high school who legitimately did this, the reasoning being that they had had drug problems and were in recovery and their family was happy to see them smoking as long as it meant they weren’t abusing other substances).

I’d forgotten about the lack of bulk food even being problematic until this weekend when I paid a visit to Wegmans in Woodbridge, NJ, a much higher class of grocery store than the already classier-than-NYC garden state supermarkets I normally patronize. The store is mammoth with spacious rows of anything you could think of (except corn tortillas and polenta in a tube it turned out—what’s up with the maize aversion? Maybe someone read The Omnivore's Dilemma one too many times) including a nice row of bulk food dispensers. You don’t even know the joy I derived from meting out the tiniest scoop of pepitas. It’s very satisfying to pay $1 and some change for what you actually need instead of $5 for a container that will just go stale.

I would’ve explored Wegmans further (and possibly found those corn products eventually) but I was running late to meet friends at Cheeseburger in Paradise just minutes away on the other side of Route 1. If you ever want live covers of all your favorite ‘90s hits (think Counting Crows and Extreme) and a signature cocktail composed of pina colada, rum runner, margarita, daiquiri and blue curacao layers, all in the same glass, garnished with a gummy cheeseburger on a toothpick and fruit wearing sunglasses (they’re called “garnimals”) show up at this Jimmy Buffet chain at 9:30pm on a Saturday.

Oh, and why don’t they sell bulk food in NYC?

As American as Processed Cheese

Normally, I enjoy a New Jersey grocery shopping excursion (I’m still trying to muster interest in the brand new Trader Joe’s walking distance from my apt.) but this weekend I was too preoccupied to tag along with James.

As a result, items I might normally veto turned up in the cupboard and fridge. The first being Lofthouse cookies. I have extolled their virtues before. I don’t know what the hell they put in these cake like treats (ok, I did see red flag partially hydrogenated oil on the ingredient list) to make them so irresistible.

They’re unusually soft and create a satisfying substantial feeling on your teeth when you bite down. Coupled with a thick swatch of ultra-sugary frosting, it’s the perfect sugar cookie. The only disconcerting aspect is why in September they’re selling a version with springy yellow icing and perky sprinkles. I would’ve imagined oranges, browns or blacks more seasonally appropriate.

I try not to eat more than one sweet thing a week so this tray of Lofthouse cookies is big trouble. If I were an eating disordered freak I would either scarf the whole batch then puke or toss the whole container in the trash before I could get any ideas. But I neither purge nor throw away perfectly good food so I’m going to have to learn to get along with the Lofthouses as long as they’re sharing living space with me.

Later, I discovered a plastic-wrapped Styrofoam tray of sliced white American cheese. I’ve never liked those shiny, completely unnatural non-melting orange squares that you can sometimes pick up for 99-cents a pack at fine stores like C Town. This form of processed cheese is thicker and more hefty in texture like the Kraft thick singles.

I love processed cheese. I do. I’d never buy it (my own contribution to the crisper drawer is a raw milk Abbaye St Mere) but I can’t resist its salty, creamy charms. I prefer it to a mainstream cheddar (real Cheddars—I’ve actually been to Cheddar, well driven past the town—are a totally different beast) even the Tillamook I grew up with.

In grade school, kids would take turns helping out with lunch service. I can’t even remember if this was voluntary or not, I think you got free lunch in exchange but it wasn’t a low-income program. For me, the best part was sneaking into the walk-in fridge and furtively pinching a mouthful of grated orange cheese stored in giant rectangular bins on the shelves.

I didn’t outgrow my passion for fake cheese either. In high school, my friend Tara had what I guess you could call government cheese in her fridge, and I know that on at least one occasion I sampled some. Maybe it was gauche, eating a family’s free food, but it was that good.

Thankfully, I’ve never developed a taste for Kool Aid, bologna or Miracle Whip. You have to draw the line someplace. We do have a bag of those individual serving ice creams with little wooden paddles in the freezer, though.

And apparently these types of “cheaper high-margin” products are in. They’re being touted as wallet-friendly according to an article in today’s Wall Street Journal (subscription required). Lower end rather than premium brands—Banquet frozen dinners, Campbell’s condensed soup and yes, Kool-Aid—are all getting a marketing push. Say goodbye to Pringles Select.

Sweet Spicy Szechuan Chips

Wah, yesterday I heard “official end of summer” used again on the radio. Do they not mean unofficial? If it’s fall why am I wasting money on air conditioning still?

Fine, the only concession I’ve made to this rumored autumn that we are now experiencing was buying a Cover Girl eyeshadow trio in Halloweeny Dazzling Metallics. I did use a Target gift certificate so technically it wasn’t my money supporting this seasonal mischaracterization.

On the new totally unnecessary items front, I found a few goodies at Shop Rite in Linden, NJ. The store is nothing special, it just happens to be in the same complex as the Target and Old Navy I frequent. It’s not quite the real guard-down suburbs because you have to pay a quarter to use the carts airport-style. Yet, I’m kind of obsessed with this place.

Banana Oreos are nearly as offbeat as those Japanese melon Kit Kats you keep hearing about (or maybe I just keep reading about them). No, I didn’t buy or sample these banana split cookies but I’m happy knowing that they exist.

Chips and soda are two product categories that I’ve never been into from an eating perspective but have always appreciated from a flavor standpoint. They’re not afraid of experimenting.

Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos sounded irresistibly Thai. Nah, I don’t even care much for Doritos but I couldn’t leave these on the shelf. Apparently, Stephen Colbert and PETA approve of these. Who knew that all other Doritos involved cow “raping?” Whatever it takes to bring me cheese, I say.

Taste verdict: Yum, maybe I’ve been missing out all these years I thought I didn’t like chips. These are strangely compelling, and yes, hot and sweet. The odd part is the corn taste in the background. These cheese-free triangles are definitely less classy than the Pringles Select below but far tastier.

I turned around and on the opposite shelf was a new jazzy line of Pringles in bags instead of cans. Select, of course. Szechuan barbecue? You know there’s not going to be a smidgen of actual Sichuan peppercorn on these, it’s just fancy code for spicy. What interested me in addition to this new Asian bent to the snack aisle was that these aren’t even potato chips. They’re rice crackers. Strangely, both bags of chips/crisps are purple. Is that the signifier for exotic?

Taste verdict: Not spicy or barbecuey. The predominate flavor is salt and the texture is kind of chalky but not unpleasant. They’re smaller than I expected too. You could easily eat a whole serving (28 crisps—hey, that’s not bad) without even realizing it. I think these would be a big seller if they were sold at Trader Joe’s under their house label but as Pringles I’m not sure how they’ll do.

Once again, I’m more swayed by the packaging than the product. I don’t eat hot dogs or chili (damn, I’m sounding picky) but Ed’s and Steve’s sauce is adorable.

That’s a lot of pork roll varieties. In the same refrigerated section at shin level was a a box of ready made pancakes. Just heat and serve. Frozen waffles seem totally normal to me but refrigerated pancakes are freakish.

Ok, you’re killing me with this Halloween shit when it’s still goddamn SUMMER! Those cat cookies are pretty cute, though.

Microwavable Molten Cakes & Blue Cherries

Western Beef will always be my favorite utilitarian grocery store, but when I’m suburban-ing it up as I’m wont to do every month or so, I lean on Shop Rite. It seems kind of the same as Stop & Shop, which I’ve had an on and off again relationship with, but it’s a little more quirky, open 24-hours so you can have the place to yourself at night (because most people have better things to do at 11pm on a Saturday) and they sell Greek yogurt (three brands at that--I eat this nearly every day so a store without it is most unhelpful) unlike S&S or Western Beef.

I’m specifically referring to a Linden, New Jersey location at Aviation Plaza; I can’t speak to the whole chain. This is an area I’m growing fond of in general because it satisfies most of my rudimentary shopping needs and desire for breathing room (never mind that it’s a 20-mile drive, $16 in tolls and I’m not calculating gas). Despite the sense that there is a sizable African American and Eastern European population (the ATMs have Russian as a language choice and there’s a Polish & Slavic credit union in the same strip mall. You can tell a lot from an ATM. My bank, Capital One, formerly North Fork, formerly Greenpoint, which I only joined because it was the most convenient bank when I lived in Queens, is the house bank at this Shop Rite and even has an office right inside the entrance with two sit-down windows. The fast cash option here is $40, the lowest I’ve seen. In Carroll Gardens it’s $60 and the Wall St. branch near my office it’s a whopping $100. You can also choose to take increments of $10 from this ATM, which is something I haven’t seen offered since my Portland days and they probably are up to a $20 minimum by now.) it feels like a Roseanne neighborhood.

There’s a bowling alley, taverns and lots of ratty motels. If there were a slew of used car dealerships, junk/thrift stores and no Italian delis, it would be the type of no nonsense environs my grandparents lived in when I was in grade school (when they weren’t living in a mobile home in our yard—I’m not joking, though it was probably only for a few months it seemed like a year in kid time).

If it weren’t for the pesky problem of getting to Manhattan for work, I would buy in New Jersey, this part of New Jersey, definitely not the areas teeming with garish new construction. House/condo buying is a real possibility in the next year (through no means of my own) and I like to pretend that I have some say in the matter. I’ve also been entertaining nearby Red Hook but isolation and scrappiness shouldn’t cost $1 million-plus. Same goes for Gowanus. I don’t like being in the thick of things; I want to grow out my nasty gray hair in peace…er, and then go check out a new restaurant. Food is really the one thing that keeps me enamored with NYC. It’s certainly not the people. Though I’m not there yet and may never be, I do understand why at this very moment my sister and her British husband are scoping out property in rural Southern Oregon (I’m still not sold on the idea of a cob house, however).

But back to Shop Rite. They aren’t perfect by any means (and apparently there was a lazy-eyed fat woman with a pregnant accomplice robbing people in aisle nine a few years ago). They don’t have those self-serve bottle return machines that are not only rare in the city, but always hogged by the homeless (hey, five-cent refunds aren’t just for the destitute). I was thwarted by their lack of loose green beans or even prepackaged ones in Styrofoam and plastic wrap. They only had $3.99 bags of organic, which I wasn’t buying.

 

But they do have maraschino cherries in rainbow colors. Yes, I’m obsessed with the Roland cherries.

And they have ethnic candles and cookware. I have no idea what ethnic cookware is and don’t think they mean woks. I also love that brands La Fe and La Cena are mushed together into single lowercase words.

 

I don’t generally hang out in the boxed baking mixes aisle so I was surprised at the amount of molten cake madness on the shelf. Americans love the warm and gooey. Those soft-centered monsters are my biggest culinary pet peeves next to Tuscan kitchens. I will admit to being tempted by the 150-calorie microwavable Betty Crocker Warm Delights Minis even though (or maybe because) sugar is my enemy.

 

Obviously, there’s more to Shop Rite than snack food and candles but that’s for another time. I have my loyalty card so there’s no doubt I will return for more than just savings.

Shop Rite * 637 W. Edgar Rd. Linden, NJ

I Have Been Known to Drink 99-Cent Wine...

...though not in this decade.

Apparently times are tough. If you’re to believe all the belt-tightening, penny-pinching articles showing up lately, that is. I’m not feeling particularly pinched, or maybe things like the price of milk, white bread and gas have next to no obvious effect on my existence. In fact, I’m more financially stable than I’ve ever been in my life, which isn’t to say rich.

My timing has always been horrible. During boom times everyone I knew was doing well and I was destitute. Now, it seems like everyone is unemployed or sporadically employed by choice, oozing free time and mellowing out while I’m tied to a rigid schedule.

I don’t often have moments where I’m like, “hey, that was my idea” mostly because I don’t have that many ideas. I’m horrible with ideas, that’s why I could never survive as a freelance writer, I find pitching extremely painful.

But yesterday I couldn’t ignore mentions of The 99¢ Only Stores Cookbook everywhere (ok, just on Chow and NPR) It made me sick and panicky, er, then I noticed it was blurbed by Jack Black and felt a little better. I’ve had an obsession with 99-cent store food for years. Ages ago when I took a horrible, miserable food writing class, I kept pounding away on this piece about 99-cent store food but it seemed lame, there wasn’t much of a hook and it just didn’t seem relevant to a larger audience (like much of what I have to say).

So, one woman ran with the idea of 99-cent store food and got a book deal. Fine. Then today in the New York Times it’s 99-cent food all over again, “How to Survive in New York on 99 Cents” written by an “investigative humorist” and maybe I missed it but they don’t seem to even reference the book, like it was a spontaneous, simultaneous genius idea.

I have no idea why I would feel defeated and incensed by a book and article about 99-cent store food appearing at the same time, it’s a gimmicky flash in the pan conceit, and one that I never even perused with anything resembling a vengeance.

I wonder if The 99 Cent Chef feels left out.

Pretty bottles photo from Ghetto Wines

No Joke

I knew it would eventually happen and a couple weeks ago it did. Those $3,000+ Louis Vuitton bags that I entertained the notion of buying for about ten seconds started getting copied. There’s nothing subtle about the fakes; they’re completely garish and the one thing I had hoped would happen did: they misspelled all the bad jokes.

The real (currently $4,300 on eBay)

The really bad knock off ($35)

The better but not great knock off ($200)

At least the cheap, super ugly fake got the spelling right. I found another style that mangles the bottom joke even further than the bag pictured above, “I’ve been mamod for thirty yeays and I’m stiu in love with the same woman.If my wafe ever tinds out she’ll killme”

It’s like poetry. And I do appreciate the seller's gift giving advice, "Give you wife or girlfriend on holiday."

The sad thing is that I’m too cheap to buy the so-so counterfeits. Do these atrocities really costs hundreds of dollars? I need to get over to Chinatown and find out.

Knock it Off, Please

Thinking Twice About That $400 Handbag? Pshaw, hundreds are for bourgeois losers; get back to me when you’ve made the leap into the thousands.

Actually, I contemplated that leap for about two minutes yesterday. I doubt I’ve ever spent more than $40 on a purse so it was a remarkable thing to realistically ponder. I do not covet expensive items (well, minus Richard Woods’s colorful block printed woodgrain furniture. I can’t conjure up any way to justify $5,500 for a plywood dresser at this point in my life) and have never understood followers of brands like Gucci and Louis Vuitton. I can’t think of anything less imaginative.

I don’t like aspirational status symbols.  But I do like these Richard Prince for Louis Vuitton bags. I don’t follow art and wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m a Richard Prince fan or else I would’ve gone to his Guggenheim retrospective that ended a few weeks ago. Yet, it was his ‘80s work, especially the joke paintings, tickled me as an art student in the early ‘90s. I wasn’t old enough to appreciate them during their heyday (though I imagine a young Manhattan teen might be so savvy or are Gossip Girl types a modern invention?)

Or at least I like the idea of these $2,000+ bags, which is why I will wait and see what the counterfeiters do with these designs. Isn’t buying a reproduction of an appropriation artist’s joke-themed “art” the ultimate joke?

Are You Chicken?

The last Wal-Mart I went to only had a lame Subway inside. I’m not one for dining in discount stores anyway (and as much as I like cheapness and crap, Wal-Marts tend to give me the creeps—they’re always heavy with a crestfallen vibe that’s barely masking something violent. What, I don’t know, but they always exude potential danger. There was even something scary about the rendition of “Pop Goes the Weasel” blaring from the ice cream truck cruising the parking lot at the one in Linden, NJ that I last frequented. After the song cycle would finish, this crazy cartoon sound effect “boing” would reverberate like the worst jack-in-the-box ever was popping out and coming to get you, but then, I’ve always been scared shitless by jack-in-the-boxes) but I might change my tune if there was a freaking Pollo Campero tucked between those Faded Glory brand denim shorts and Looney Tunes nursing aide uniforms .

I knew we were behind the times in NYC. We couldn’t even sustain two Guatemalan fast food chicken franchises in a city of 8 million, yet they flourish elsewhere in the US.

Despite a sad lack of fried chicken, I might have to make a Wal-Mart visit this weekend because I’m seriously coveting this wood grain tablecloth. I have no idea when or why this faux bois thing became so out of control, but I've been buying it up for the past few years.

I Went All the Way to Forest Hills and All I Got Was This Lousy Peanut Butter Granola Bar

“We should’ve gone to New Jersey,” was one of the first things I heard after shoving my way into the new Queens Trader Joe’s. Ah, no truer words have ever been spoken by a stranger. (I rarely go in for message board posting and have yet to chime in on this egullet discussion, but I am a proud car-owning [well, car-owning household] New Yorker who chooses to go to New Jersey for food. Not so much for hidden gems as for chain restaurants and big box stores, which is why I haven’t gotten involved with the foodie back and forth.)

Where else can you pick up some chocolate-covered edamame and satiate all of your scrapbooking needs in the same shopping trip? Welcome to the borough's first Trader Joe's and Michaels Crafts. 

I refused to believe James’s prediction that the latest Trader Joe’s addition would suck by virtue of being in NYC. It bummed me out that we missed opening weekend while in Beijing, but that also allowed two weeks for any initial crowds to die down. I don’t want to be negative all the time, so on the ride over I trying to justify how the Forest Hills location is so isolated (no subway access) that it would keep away the riff raff. Instead, it’d only be local curiosity seekers and intrepid yet misguided folks like us who should know better.

 

I was wrong. It was a nightmare. My photos don’t convey the crush, but the aisles were impenetrable. It was no less packed than my first and last Union Square TJ’s foray (and the paunchy, non-young employees here were most definitely not art students/candidates for American Apparel ads) Carts were pointless, though it didn’t stop people from trying to approximate normal shopping behavior anyway, creating irreparable traffic jams.

 

I wanted to grab four yogurts but couldn’t even get within arm’s reach of the shelf. I eyeballed a wedge of Cambozola yet was kept from it by a solid wall of zombies just standing and staring at the cheese case like they’d never seen dairy products before. The granola bar section never materialized at all, and settling on peanut butter bars from an end display instead of finding the sweet and salty ones I had my heart set on was the final straw. Plus, they didn’t carry Plugra butter like the New Jersey locations. And no, they don’t sell wine.

 

I could only be angry at myself for giving NYC the benefit of the doubt. The remedy for my gross miscalculation was to head up the street to Eddie’s Sweet Shop for a soothing hot fudge sundae.

New York does best when it sticks with what it knows; faded, old-timey ice cream parlors are a resounding success while facsimiles of quirky, low-priced faux gourmet chains are excruciatingly bad.

Trader Joe’s * 90-30 Metropolitan Ave., Forest Hills, NY (local press is calling this Rego Park, but that seems a bit off to me)

Beefing up the Selection

It’s just a grocery store but I’ve always had a thing for Western Beef, at least the Ridgewood headquarters. It’s not remotely fancy, I can’t get my Kashi bars or Fage yogurt, just Quaker and Danon, but it’s certainly a notch above Associated or C-Town (Friday the NY Post had a funny full page ad where C-Town price compared a pile of around 25 Krasdale items to the name brands and showed how you’d save like $75).

I was excited this past weekend to see that WB has revamped/reorganized its “ethnic” offerings, which consists of a bounty of Latin American and Caribbean brands with a few Eastern European items tossed in. You’re shit out of luck if need anything Asian besides Kikkoman or Roland duck sauce (in humungous jars). I don’t know that they increased their offerings but they’ve tidied up the shelves, erected mini flags from countries of origin and put signs out front advertising their diverse products. I thought they might’ve actually alphabetized since Argentina was first, but then Peru snuck in near the start of the aisle and all rhyme or reason went out the window.

They also tidied up an entire row devoted the only other foodstuff in existence (besides melon) that I can't abide. Malta is an acquired taste that I just can't acquire. 

I couldn’t resist this little Colombian box of Triguisar. I'm sure it is seasoning, though the translation reads "economic dehydrated mixed condiments" that consist of cumin, pepper, garlic, annatto, something they translate as curcuma (ah, turmeric), yellow dye, corn starch and corn rice. I’m not convinced of its tastiness but like the straightforward directions, “it should be cooked with the foods.”

Not only was the Western Beef so bizarrely empty that I could wheel the cart around unimpeded, the same non-crowdedness occurred at Target the same Saturday afternoon. We got a parking spot next to the door instead of having to drive in circles and there were actually shopping carts instead of the usual empty patch of dirty carpet where they’re supposed to be. It kind of freaked me out. Plus, instead of the normal reggaeton blasting at WB interspersed with an angry employee yelling for his keys, soft jazz was lilting from the speakers. New management or something more malevolent?

More: western beef

Mariana's Supermarket

While digging up info on Mariana’s, I stumbled upon an odd best of review in local Vegas media that compared it to Trader Joe’s. That seemed off the mark in print and even more so in person. Other than being busy and well-curated by design, it’s more like a Pathmark or Stop & Shop . It’s a large (by NYC standards) Mexican grocery store, nothing, trendy, gourmet or healthy about it. It's even a chain--there are three locations in the area.

Mariana’s is impressive because we just don’t have mega marts like this in New York. Despite the Puerto Rican/ Dominican dominance there aren’t Latino equivalents to these supermarkets with food stands, which feel more Asian to me. Bakery counter, butcher, deli, take out, all under one roof. I’ve always wondered why there are no Latin American Hong Kong Supermarkets (or  Ranch 99 to you west coasters). “Ethnic” food needn’t be hole-in-the-wall bodega-style. I love suburban sprawl.

Mariana’s makes me wish I was more Mexican. I glom onto Southeast Asian food culture because I love it, but I do have roots as root-less as I often feel. I didn’t even know the names for half the things I encountered and sometimes I hate the sensation of being a tourist in my own country. I should know this stuff but my dad did such a good job of assimilating that I know more about kueh than pan dulce.

If I had access to refrigeration and a kitchen, I would’ve spent more time exploring the groceries. But I had to limit myself to dried goods and snacks like chile garbanzos. My sister had asked me to send her dried chipotles, which are truly foreign in Western England where she lives. I went a little overboard snatching up at least five varieties of chiles to mail her way.

James commented on something foreign to him, Squirt. There’s nothing Mexican about Squirt (when I could afford private Spanish lessons, there was an issue with the verb squirt. My Columbian tutor had never heard the word and I had a hard time trying to describe it without referring to ketchup bottles). I’m not a soda drinker so it had never occurred to me that you never see that brand on the east coast. It made me happy to be reminded of it even if I had no desire to imbibe.

The real gem was the take out counter with seating in the front of the store. It was late in the afternoon so I think many of the weekend specials like pozole and menudo were running low. I tried the menudo anyway, just because it’s not something I frequently see here (I'd do well to find a local source pronto, as it's a reputed hangover cure and it seems that I'll be working New Year's  Day). It didn’t come with sides like lime slices, cilantro and chopped onion but the warm, freshly made corn tortillas were absolutely amazing. It’s hard to understand what’s so great about a simple tortilla if you’re used to buying them in packages that have sat around for who knows how long. I felt guilty about throwing more than half of my stack out, but we had Joel Robuchon in our future and I didn’t want to completely spoil my appetite, tiny portions or not.

I had two tacos, a carnitas and an al pastor. Double pork. Despite what west coast transplants say, there is good Mexican food in NYC. I suspect they just haven’t properly mined pockets of Queens and Brooklyn. I’ve had wonderful tacos here, but these slap-dash grocery store versions were a notch above. The words moist and juicy immediately came to mind. Oh, and they were only a buck apiece.

There’s also a stand with agua frescas in giant glass jars nearby. Like I said, I’m not crazy about sweet beverages but the horchata and vivid watermelon, hibiscus and tamarind juices were enticing.

Las Vegas has so much more to offer in the way of food culture than people might realize. If I’d had more than a weekend to spend, I would’ve tried tapping into the Filipino scene that appeared to be floating just under the radar.

Mariana's Supermarket * 3631 W. Sahara Ave., Las Vegas, NV

Soy Candle in the Wind

Don’t even go there. It’s a tired phrase that I try to suppress when it pops into my head, but is it possible that there is an original there and it’s the Atlantic Center Target?

Perhaps the saying should be literal rather than sassy. Really, don’t even go there, you’ll be sorry. Last Friday James turned around and left after getting scared shitless by the mayhem. I didn’t see what he saw, but attributed it to pre-Christmas madness. But that doesn’t explain the sickening chaos I experienced yesterday on a post-holiday Thursday (clearly, I never learn--it turns out that I had this exact same problem at exactly the same time last year). We usually go to New Jersey or Q ueens for our Target fix, so maybe this is standard practice in Brooklyn.

Do these people (yes, those people) not know what a Target is meant to be like? There’s supposed to merchandise on the shelves, not empty rows and so much crap on the floor or abandoned, filled shopping carts blocking paths that you can barely walk. There are supposed to be express lanes so folks like me with four items don’t have to wait behind families buying what looks like a month’s worth (I hope it’s a month) of cereal, soda, cookies and potato chips. There are supposed to be enough cashiers open so that lines aren’t twenty deep and winding all the way back to the refrigerated section.

I was watching Signe Chanel on Sundance channel the other night (I’ve been very, very bored this week. Apparently, so bored that I’ve only watched things on channel 101. I also watched the hilariously non-American, Da Kath & Kim Code, both episodes of not-that-entertaining One Punk Under God and so-so but wonderfully bleak, Jude, which is the type of thing I’d normally flip past. I will never be bored enough to watch Iconoclasts, however) and Oprah was at a Chanel show in Paris and some middle-aged socialite sitting next to her was talking to about her new country home in Pennsylvania and how horrible New York City had become. Oprah agreed and said something along the lines of “people don’t realize that it’s not normal to live like that,” implying that there are squalor-free places full of peace, quiet and natural beauty. I’m no fan of Oprah, despite being a fellow INFJ, but this Brooklyn Target is a shining example of not living normally.

I only went because I needed one item that I know they carry, and it’s the most accessible Target (it’s about a thirty-minute walk home). I had to find a replacement shaving cream for my Whish mishap. They have Sharps brand, which is not only considerably cheaper but had specifically been asked for. The Target in Las Vegas (yes, I go to Targets on vacation) had a well-stocked display of toiletries and beauty products for both genders. Brooklyn had one small section that was 75% empty, none of the signage matched where the items were placed and there wasn’t a single price tag to be seen. I was so irritated that I almost turned around and left but that would only be thwarting myself.

I don’t understand people who say beta-blockers work for anxiety (or migraines, for that matter). I have them for high blood pressure and half the time I feel like I’m going to bust a gasket, I’m perpetually un-calm. I’ve been taking halves for some time but the past few weeks I’ve upped my dosage to wholes because I’m convinced that swarms of humanity are going to give me a heart attack in my thirties. I wonder if I didn’t take high blood pressure medication at all if I’d simply keel over from life’s little annoyances.

James likes smelly shit and cleaning products so I thought I’d peek at the dreaded air freshener aisle. I gave in to a new lavender and lemongrass Method soy candle, but I had to draw the line at the Method plug-ins. They have that eco-chic thing happening but I’m fairly certain the scents are still cloying and artificial (how do you make a natural scented candle, anyway? I don’t imagine these $50 numbers are much less artificial. Hmm, these scents are actually intriguing—I’m not sure what “english black tea and cedar, tangled with blackish seaweed absolute” or “scents of wood stock, 19th century lacquer and smoky gunpowder” smell like but I am curious)

I resigned myself to the snaking checkout line and when I finally go to the register my candle wouldn’t scan properly. “Do you know how much this was?” asked the fairly efficient, not ill-tempered cashier.

You never know how a store will handle price checks. Often it’s so ridiculously busy that they take your word if your quote sounds reasonable but Western Beef, no matter how long the line, will always send a human to check even it takes all afternoon. I feel guilty about trying to cheat, so I’m usually honest.

“I think it was $5.99.” I didn’t just think, I knew with 99% certainty. She scrunched up her face like that didn’t seem right. I got unnecessarily nervous (all I could think was please don’t get a price check because I don’t have the patience and as usual I’ll end up saying forget it and leaving the item behind) and was all, “do you think it’s higher or lower?” “That’s seems like too much for a candle” was the answer. I thought it was actually cheap for a candle, but whatever, and then I started worrying if $5.99 was actually wrong and I was now going to be overcharged. I checked my receipt on the way out the door and was surprised to note that I’d only been charged $2.99 for the candle. I felt very good about saving $3 and softened a mite (just a mite) about the horribleness of Atlantic Center Target. But you still might have to reward me with more than three bucks to return.

Sunday Night Special: Spicy Cold Noodles

I could've predicted that the second sick days were no longer a part of my life, I'd get sick. Last week was the first week that I was needed to come every day and I had to stay home Wednesday so I could lay in bed. I didn't even wake up until 12:30pm today and now I'm so exhausted I'm about to temporarily hit the hay and it's only 6pm.

I've been craving chewy spicy things like crazy. I think it's because I barely have any taste in my mouth and head's all stuffed up, so burning and chomping give me a boost. Today I've been eating spicy bamboo shoots from the jar and tripe from a plastic container. I'm not a fount of knowledge where Chinese food is concerned but I try and food hobbies keeps me out of trouble. (I'm so irked. This afternoon I wanted to watch the first installment of the new Gourmet show Diary of a Foodie, especially since it was a China episode, but something was wrong with channel 13; the image kept blinking and the sound was sputtering. I DVR'd it and now the episode is totally unwatchable. And to add insult to injury, both channels on either side were fine. Unfortunately, I had no desire Buried Secrets on 12/Lifetime or The Sandlot on 14/ABC Family.) I'm not clear how you're supposed to eat these often-pickled condiments. Do you put a couple spoonfuls over rice? Eat them on the side with other dishes?

I don't know who makes these bamboo shoots, the only English clue reads Hunan ZhuZhou Aolin Seasoning Foods Factory, which turns up zilch if you Google it. I might just be drawn to this brand because of the cute fire-breathing chile logo. I usually get their spicy radish variety, which comes with a red cap rather than a purple one. The ingredients listed are simply bamboo shoot slice, sesame oil, red pepper and salt but it seems like there's something else in there. The mushy, oily crunchy consistency almost feels like canned sardines.

Yesterday I went on one of my NJ shopping-for-things-I-could-find-in-NYC-but-don't-have-the-patience-to-do-so missions and hit Costco, Trader Joe's, Home Depot, Pathmark, Applebee's (more later) and Kam Man.

There are plenty of Asian grocery stores in NYC, just as there are numerous American grocery stores. And they're cramped and crowded and infuriating. Maybe it's because I didn't grow up in an urban setting nor a third world nation, so the charm of fighting for space and skimming shelves while being jostled is lost on me. Hong Kong Supermarket in South Plainfield is a lovable wide aisled gargantuan, my favorite, but I didn't make it out there yesterday. Kam Man in Edison isn't necessarily more spacious than its inner city counterparts, but it's more manageable by suburban default. It's easy to maneuver and the shoppers are relatively well behaved.

It can be painful trying to read packages or even stand still at the Hong Kong Supermarket in Sunset Park. No matter how you position yourself you're invariably in someone's way. Like I said, I'm no Chinese pro so I appreciated being able to leisurely scout out all the items on my list in peace. And almost everything I needed was strangely in a one foot radius: dried tsao-ko, which I'd never heard of but need for a red-braised dish, Sichuan peppercorns, dried chiles, Chinkiang vinegar and sesame oil.

I originally had plans to make a bunch of Sichuan dishes tonight but ended up solo this Sunday and hate making tons of food just for myself. Mondays I work till midnight. So, the beef and lotus roots will have to wait. Tonight I went simple made a cold noodle recipe from Land of Plenty.

I suspect these noodles might be the dish pictured on the cover of the book. If so, mine don't resemble that aspirational model in the slightest. I tossed mine which gave them a murkiness instead of sheen and used a full 16-ounce package of noodles instead of the suggested half-pound so the overall appearance was dry, not that slick, chile oil Sichuan style. But hey, they still tasted good.

Spicy Cold Noodles with Chicken Slivers
Ji Si Liang Mian

About ½ pound fresh Chinese noodles, Shanghai-style, a little thicker than spaghetti
1 ½ tablesppons peanut or salad oil
3 ounces bean sprouts
1 small cooked chicken breast or some leftover chicken meat
4 scallions, white and green parts, thinly sliced

Seasonings
2 tablespoons sesame paste, thinned with 1 tablespoon water
1 ½ tablespoon dark soy sauce
½ tablespoon light soy sauce
1 ½ tablespoons Chinkiang or black Chinese vinegar
1 tablespoon white sugar
2-3 cloves or garlic, crushed
½ teaspoon ground roasted Sichuan pepper
2-3 tablespoons chili oil with chile flakes
1 tablespoon sesame oil

Cook the noodles in plenty of boiling water until they are just al dente-take care not to overcook them. Rinse with hot water from the kettle, shake them in a colander and quickly spread them out to dry. Sprinkle over the peanut oil and mix it in with chopsticks to prevent the noodles from sticking together.

Blanch the bean sprouts for a few seconds in boiling water, then refresh in cold water. Drain them well. Squash the chicken breast slightly or whack it with a rolling pink to loosen the fibers, and tear or cut it into slivers about ¼ inch thick.

When the noodles and bean sprouts are completely cold, lay the bean sprouts in the bottom of your serving bowl or bowls. Add the noodles.

To serve, either combine all the seasonings in a bowl and pour the mixture over the noodles, or just scatter them over one by one. Top the dish with a small pile of chicken slivers and a scattering of scallions. Allow your guests to toss everything together at the table.

Serves 4 as a snack, 2-3 as a main lunch dish

Palisades Center

I'll admit I'm spoiled (and have a loose definition of what spoiled is) when it comes to malls. I get off on suburbia and have the only-in-New York-would-it-be-a-luxury of getting driven around New Jersey and Westchester on whims. This past weekend I decided to rough it and made the trek to the Palisades Center with two friends, Heather and Molly. Normally, I wouldn't rely on a subway, train and bus combo to go the 35 miles, but why not? It's part of a Metro-North one-day getaways package--it's not like we pulled this idea totally out of our asses. I had a day to kill and I see weekend work in my future so I wanted to seize a remaining free Saturday.

The thing about malls is that realistically you can find most of the stores in "the city." This probably wasn't so true ten years ago and nearly unthinkable before the '90s. Target isn't even the big deal it used to be now that we have (a shitty) one in Brooklyn (ok, two, but most New Yorkers don't go to or even know where Starrett City is). And we have Best Buy, H&M, Lord & Taylor, Macy's, etc. I like looking for the new shops that have yet to infiltrate Manhattan and the weirdo venues that would have no place here.

Forth & Towne, The Gap for old women, a.k.a. over-35s (I still have a few years, thanks) is a good example. They sell four different lines of clothing: selected Gap styles, Allegory which is tailored, unhideous and reminiscent of Laura on Project Runway, Prize which is a little trendy and more casual, kind of Anthropologie, and Vocabulary which is definitely middle aged, very caftan-y. Maybe I'm decrepit because a lot of the clothes were likeable and came in my size, which I can't say about a lot of stores. As far as mid-priced grown women shops go, I thought Forth & Towne was more stylish than the likes of J. Jill and Chico's, which isn't saying much.

The strange camp belonged to Fred Meyer Jewelers. Fred Meyer is a NW one stop shopping grocery chain. Why there's a standalone Fred Meyer Jewelers in Rockland County is beyond me. I've never seen such a thing. They also had a store that only sold expensive wooden slides and jungle gyms, Jo-Ann ETC. Plus (which definitely doesn't exist in NYC) and something called Opus Entertainment that still confuses me. I was surprised to see a Kinokuniya--maybe there's a large Japanese community in West Nyack? I didn't see many Asian shoppers. All the ads taped up in the bus shelter were Spanish language promos for bands and other extravaganzas in local Mexican restaurants. But the bus stop might not be indicative of West Nyack as a whole. After all, we were the only white people waiting for the bus, but in the suburbs only poor souls and nuts take public transportation. I forget about these things sometimes.

Of course, I'm most fascinated by the food offerings. And their ThEATery had options in spades. There were all sorts of restaurants I'd never heard of like FOX Sports Grill and Cheeburger Cheeburger, and ones I've heard of but never seen in person like Q-doba and Fatburger. There was a big ad for coming attraction Café Tu Tu Tango, which I'm still baffled by. I totally don't know what they mean by "food for the starving artist." I ate at Fatburger, T.G.I. Friday's, Kohr Bros and Pretzel Time. Yes, four places. We were there all day, ok?

Palisades isn't just food and shopping, they have an ice skating rink, indoor Ferris wheel, post office and a shuttered comedy club, Rascals. The one thing they don't have and that I've never understood about American malls, is a grocery store. In Asia and Europe (ok, Singapore, Malaysia and Barcelona-I can't speak first hand to the rest of the continents) there's always a huge supermarket in the malls. Did I mention that this is an ugly mall? I'm all for inner beauty but there's a lot of concrete and weird neon and wire fencing and unused space and empty real estate offices and strangely pruned fake trees.

It ended up being a lot of effort for hair color and batteries, my only purchases, but it's about the journey not the destination. I've been a little worried about my recent self-chosen pay cut and frankly, I don't really need anything. I have too many clothes, shoes and bags as it is (of course they're all cheap and not a la minute, but do I really need skinny jeans and "The New Clean" anyway?) and I don't require "work" clothes to do my work.

I'd definitely go back to Palisades Center, but I'd probably bum a ride. See a few more mall photos.

Palisades Center * 1000 Palisades Center Dr., West Nyack, NY

Shrugging it Off

New things I discovered on my way to and while in Montreal.

Dulce de Leche Oreos: I always find something great at Wal-Mart. This time I got a cheapy chocolate-colored velvet shrug (I know, I'm not fond of that weirdo short length either, but I'd brought a too-slinky top to wear out later without realizing how chilly it was north of NYC and needed something brown to match my skirt and to just kind of cover up my upper arms and chest. There's something demented about wearing a $10 jacket to a $300 meal, but it makes more sense to me than people spending hundreds on an item of clothing and starving, which is very New York) and a box of new limited edition dulce de leche Oreos.

Unfortunately, they just kind of taste like sugar and not much else. I'm not one for declaring anything too sweet or too rich, but these just hurt my teeth. The fact that they've been in my possession for a full week and I've only eaten two is a testament to their lackluster performance as a cookie. To be fair, I don't really like most prepackaged cookies anyway (same with canned soups). When M&Ms went all melting pot and introduced dulce de leche candies, I don't think they were that successful either.

Dark Chocolate Kit Kats: We had these in 2004, but I don't think they've stuck around. Initially, I was confused by two different dark chocolate Kit Kats at Couche-Tard (that name will never cease to make me chuckle). One was noir (just because it was in French) and the other was Xtra or some such. The only clue to their difference was the little picture on the front of the packages. Noir had dark chocolate on the outside and Xtra had dark chocolate and a chocolate wafer, hence the Xtra (I also found out that there's a cinnamon limited edition in Canada). Anyway, they tasted typically Kit Katty. I was hoping they'd be more like British Kit Kats, which use a creamier better tasting chocolate. I don't know why American (and apparently Canadian) mainstream candy bars always taste so bland and waxy.

Cheese: We took our chances on some random cheese from a European type deli that's down the street from Schwartz's whose name I can never remember (we ended up there last time too). I'm sure we could've tracked down more exquisite varieties at a proper fromagerie, but our choices ended up being more remarkable that I would've expected. In fact, I've eaten bread and cheese for dinner the past four evenings. That can't be good for you.

I always have to pick a blue but don't love the extreme sharp styles. Geai Bleu (blue jay) from Brigham, Quebec, just looked mild and it turned out to be smooth and creamy. I also like to have a soft cheese and settled on Cendré des Prés because I couldn't figure out why it had a black stripe through its center. It turns out that's from maple wood ash, which sounds kind of creepy but isn't. James likes straightforward hard cheeses and isn't into adventuring so I talked him into getting a raw milk Comte Juraflore like we'd been served two nights before at Anise. I honestly don't know what the taste difference is between a raw milk and pasteurized variety, but this Comte is crazy-you can't stop at one slice. I should buy an FDA approved wedge for comparison.

Where Subways Fear to Tread

The Sunday before last, I needed to kill time in Queens so I decided to check out Glendale’s mall-in-progress, The Shops at Atlas Park because I like going places where subways don't reach. I’d eaten lunch in Sunnyside and also had to eat dinner in Jackson Heights, but didn’t want to go all the way back home to Brooklyn to wait for my appetite to reappear (I have harbored fantasies about somehow being able to remove meals, without barfing, so you can immediately eat another).

I wouldn’t say I’m a mall connoisseur, but I do have my standards. And while I realize this shopping center isn’t fully realized, this one didn’t do much for me. Even though Atlas Park is brand new and ‘00s style, there’s something about it that reminded me of an old beat-up long gone Portland mall called Eastport Plaza. I took a bunch of photos of the raggedy half-empty collection of stores back in the pre-blogging, mid-‘90s but I’m sure what I did with them.

It had its hey day in the early ‘80s and was never much to look at even then. It was small (note that mall wasn’t in the name either) and had stores like Newberry (R.I.P.), Frederick’s of Hollywood, Doo-Da (a Spencer’s rip off) and Orange Julius. (I saw santa there when I was five or so and he said, “here’s a candy cane for your brother.” Hmm, I didn’t have a brother.) Now one of Portland’s only Wal-Marts (weird that both locations are on 82nd Ave.) is in the old space and they’ve completely remodeled the block into a strip mall, (is that website classy or what?) complete with an Izzy's, my favorite NW pizza buffet. I'd dare say it's the same clientele that was attracted to the old busted mall.

All that was open at Atlas Park was a J. Jill, an Amish Market (which I don’t think is Amish but merely a chain of overpriced midtown delis), California Pizza Kitchen and Stein Mart. I had been curious about Stein Mart because I’ve seen TV ads, but have never set foot in one (this is the only one in NYC). It felt like a pricier Marshalls, which is amusing because I used to think Marshalls was a more expensive Ross (which they don’t have in New York state). There’s nothing remarkable about Stein Mart unless you like decorating your home with 3-D wood cut-outs spelling inspirational words like “peace” and “family.”

The movie theater was also open and we did that thing that normally baffles me—just showing up with no plan and picking a movie on the spot. Little Miss Sunshine was the lesser of the cinematic evils on offer (I swear I’m not a snob, I just like movies with dialogue and regular kinds of characters where not a lot happens and you end up feeling kind of sad. I would like to see Half Nelson and Factotum in the immediate future). I will say that Regal Cinemas has insane customer service. Everyone’s cheerful and full of hellos and thank yous. No one talks, let alone yells, during the film. I was kind of scared. This is the anti-Court Street Stadium. Even the kid with a broom and dustpan who walked in front of our row during the movie whispered excuse me.

I wouldn’t mind paying The Shops at Atlas Park another visit in 15 years (oh my goodness, I just realized that would make me 49) and seeing if it has turned all ghostly and dilapidated like Eastport Plaza.

The Shops at Atlas Park * 8000 Cooper Ave., Glendale, NY

Lettuce Entertain You

Food marketing is fascinating. As I mentioned before, the only reason my last week before vacation has been tolerable is because I'm doing chain restaurant research and it totally rocks. I've been trying to get away from this corporate niche that I've started getting myself into (and I might possibly have an out in the next few weeks, but who knows because whenever I say that it never materializes) but if I were to really peruse that route with a vengeance, I would have to somehow get into food marketing. I was so completely in awe at a meeting last week when we brought in this head honcho from a corporate food consulting company to get us up to speed since our company is filled with middle aged (or close to it) NYC women who wouldn't and haven't set foot in a chain restaurant and need to get up to speed asap on in the industry. I loved this guy. Seriously. He was 40-something, suit-y, polished, kind of like an executive version of Marc Marrone (who I also love) but sounded exactly like Steve Buscemi and was very wry. He knew every menu item at every chain in existence and what times of day women eat at particular chains and how much they spend and how to develop new flavor combos and crazy menu items like southwestern eggrolls. I tried impressing him with my knowledge--I was the only one in the room who knew what Bonefish Grill was and that it was a chain to watch (I liked that he compared the mix and match approach of Bonefish to Craft in their initital iteration, which showed that he's up on all levels of dining).

Like I said, I love this guy (um, I even looked him up because he struck me as someone who would live in Manhattan rather than Westchester, NJ or CT just because he has a wife and kids-and he is in NYC). How do you get to travel around the U.S. giving insights and making recommendations to corporate chefs and heads of marketing?  I think these are MBAs, and that's a route I can't go. More and more I see jobs that ask for an MLS or MBA, which is interesting. The major difference is that librarians are good at finding information, but they're not generally equipped to offer insights or analysis. And I assume the latter is what people expect from business school grads. The money is in the insights not the info. When I interviewed at McKinsey for a gussied-up cataloging job, the head of the dept. noted that what I'm currently doing is more R&I (I had no idea what that stood for and had to look it up-research & innovation) and had I considered going that route as it's much more lucrative. Those jobs are scary and you'll work your ass off and I'm not one for working my ass off (though it's a different track than consulting, which are the truly coveted, highly competitive, work 16 hours a day, make shitloads of money jobs). And they're always in industries I'm unenthused about like finance, real estate, insurance. Out of curiosity I did look at the knowledge center page of the McKinsey site and they profiled a few employees, mostly males with MBAs, but there was one female and she had a library degree (of course) so while difficult to get your foot in the door, it's not unheard of. I just don't think it's me, however. It's hard not to look at the photos of employees and wonder whether or not you would get along with them.

So, after learning about "eatertainment" last week, I was excited to see a retail-tainment piece in today's Times. So tantalizing, yet grotesque. I think what's offputting is that most of these concepts are devised to make shopping fun for families. And as you might know I loathe how this generation of youngsters is catered to. In-store dining, free ice cream cones, musical entertainment, petting zoos, animatronics aren't there to entertain me-they only create more logjams and chaos in the aisles-they're to distract the kids long enough so their parents don't have to beat them in public. So, too bad for old folks and younger cranky childless people who view grocery stores as a place to um, buy groceries. The Shopping Buddy does sound promising, but as you'll note not a single NY Stop & Shop is on the list (yes, I realize it's more of a New England chain, but they do exist in the boroughs and I have a Stop & Shop card)

I see that the 30s can be very lame. You're too old to be targeted as hip or creative, but you're hardly into boomer uplift me with retirement planning commercials using Paul McCartney. You're useless, so it's your likely overindulged offspring that are being spoken to with marketing tactics. Now, I see why people stay in NYC. I never used to get what the big allure was. In your 20s it's a giant hodge podge of possibility, but gradually people get grounded, settle down and frequently move away to cities that provide more retail-tainment options. If you don't need space, convenience, good schools or suburban comforts because it's just yourself to contend with and it's not worth the bother, then you stay because why would you want to surround yourself with those unwarranted things. So whoever's left here when they're adult adults is a very specific breed or else very wealthy and could create peace and relief in any setting (and I hate those people unless they're that food marketing guy I met last week because I love him).

Jesus, I'm supposed to be writing a short book review of a Cuban food writer's memoir, but here I am wasting a good 30 minutes writing about absolutely nothing of importance. And I'm also supposed to be getting downstairs and using that elliptical trainer and instead I'm eating more of that See's candy that causes digestive tract mishaps. But aren't Saturday morning supposed to be like that? Procrastinating and potentially pooping on yourself.

Slurpees Aren't Even the Half of It

Since there aren’t many 7-Elevens around the city (no, I never got into that brief urban nostalgia craze when they started opening in Manhattan last year), I forget how crazy and full of amazing innovations they are.  When I lived in Sunset Park for a few years, I had an On the Run, complete with a small parking lot (atypical for Brooklyn) on the next block. It met the minimal requirements for a convenience store, but they didn’t get too wild with the products (except for the Green Mountain blueberry and pumpkin flavored coffees advertised in the gas station).

I popped in the Bay Ridge 7-Eleven this weekend after a patience trying, but ultimately fruitful Century 21 visit (I’ve really been wanting these green sandals with a cork heel, (they're not jade like in the photo but true color crayon green) but $79 seemed completely overpriced. $59 at Century 21 was still more than I thought was fair, but then I remembered that I had a little birthday pocket cash and all was good). It was a bonanza of bizarre edible inventions. I wish I’d had my camera with me because, duh, a picture is worth a thousand words (and my words aren’t even that worthy). If berry and squash coffees were disturbing, 7-Eleven goes one further with a whole machine devoted to making key lime cappuccino. How did that flavor combo even cross someone’s mind?

Despite not even drinking soda, I was very impressed with their beverage station that was promoting a “flavor blast” concept. You could push a button and choose a squirt of additional flavor like cherry, vanilla or lemon to pep up your Coke, Sierra Mist, whatever. I think vanilla root beer would be nice. It reminded me of how at Farrell’s (I don’t think there are many left in the world) you used to be able to order vanilla, cherry or chocolate cokes that had syrup mixed in.

I did purchase a Cadbury Crème Egg ice cream, if you can imagine. The actual icy confection on a cone doesn’t really resemble the illustration on the wrapper, but my photo didn’t turn out (I’m lame and can’t figure out how to make the object in the foreground in focus rather than the other way around). The top portion is kind of small, smaller than a Drumstick. And there really is a yellow fondant fake yolk in the middle of the vanilla ice cream. It was kind of creepy and incredibly sugary and I loved it.

The P'EatZZa Sandwich is "a marriage made only in 7-Eleven heaven." Well, they said it. I’m more fascinated by the spelling and pronunciation (Puh-Eat-Zuh) of the damn thing than the actual item itself.

There’s nothing novel about selling two-packs of hard boiled eggs, but sometimes simplicity gets you too.

7-Eleven * 301 65th St., Brooklyn, NY

Out with the Old, In with the New

I’m so out of the loop. How could I not know about this new mall development in Glendale? I love me a Queens mall, but there’s something a bit off with The Shops at Atlas Park. For one, I have no idea what half of these stores even are. Crazy for Animals? Amish Fine Food? White House-Black Market?! What the hell? These are not the chains I’m accustomed to. That’s what happens when you build a mall where no subway goes. And Chili’s is no great shakes. They don’t even have a theme. Er, or are baby back ribs their calling card?

After the lack of Sonics anywhere 100 miles from here, I got on an Arby’s bender because they’re another one of those fast food companies that advertises on TV yet has (almost) zero NYC presence. And I’m dying for a beef ‘n cheddar. I used to eat a beef ‘n cheddar and jamocha shake almost every day for lunch as a high school freshman. Oh, and a Cherry Coke and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup in study hall (and I weighed like 70 pounds less then than I do now. No shit. More and more, I’m starting to believe that metabolism slowing with age thing).

A few weeks ago I noticed that they’re building an Arby’s in Middle Village, which makes me happy. But it’s being constructed on the old Niederstein’s spot (scroll to middle of page), which makes me sad because it was the oldest restaurant on Long Island (of course you all know that technically Queens and Brooklyn are on Long Island). Even though the food supposedly sucked, I had every intention of trying Niederstein’s for at least the novelty of an old German hold-out nestled next to a cemetery, while I lived those three years in neighboring Ridgewood. But I never did it. I’ll have to rectify that oversight with a beef ‘n cheddar (don't forget the Horsey Sauce) in the near future.

Old style Arby's hat photo borrowed from tesg's guide to big chain road food consumption.

Nothing Suitable

Why are women's suits so goddamn ugly? Unless you have a couple thousand dollars to spend and are a size 2, you're shit out of luck because it's poly-blends and weird silhouettes otherwise. It's tricky enough trying to find something stylish and inoffensive in any size, but once you get into the plus territory it's big, big trouble. Whatever you do, don't get fooled into clicking on womensuits.com (well, you can just this once). I never even knew there were categories like Church Ensembles and Mother of the Bride. The website claims that the beauty on the left can't be done justice in a photo. Maybe I should check it out in person?

And the whole misses/women thing is confusing. You'd think misses would be large sizes because it sounds so hideous, but it's not. Women's means large which makes no sense because aren't most adult females women, regardless of size? I guess the opposite is juniors, which is an odd moniker too.

You might imagine why I'd want/need a suit, I don't know if I need to spell it out. Can you imagine showing up anywhere, let alone a highly competitive/conservative organization dressed like this? Actually, if you're a corporate librarian you might. In fact, it might just give that extra edge and I'll fit right in. Billowy and blue is just my style. If that's not dressing for success, I don't know what is.

My Way or the Fairway

Everyone has priorities in life. Me, I took a day off work to check out the new Fairway in Red Hook. I almost spontaneously gave my notice yesterday, which would've been severely stupid since I have zero job prospects at the moment. The only thing that kept me from walking out was the promise of a shiny, new Fairway to visit the following day. Seriously...I never claimed to be un-pathetic.

It's odd because in a car, it's only like five minutes to get to the end of Van Brunt St., but walking it seemed like more of a haul, maybe 30 minutes or so. I took the BQE foot bridge that's across the street from my apt. and then proceeded to get twisted around and ended up over off Lorraine St. where all those busted stores and laundromat are, at the end of the projects. Even the nasty now shuttered Court St. Key Food that the entire (blog) world hated would be an improvement over the Red Hook grocery situation. The Fairway is like a massive jump from shitty to super with never having spent any time in the mediocre middle.

I'm guessing I made it there around 10:35am and I was completely surprised by the lack of massive crowds. Not that I'm complaining, I'm severely pushy people-phobic. Of course, there was lots of rampant shopping cart banging and blocking and the usual slow movers and gawkers. But it was manageable. For a while, there might've been more press than public.

I got overwhelmed and only ended buying a Vitamin Water (lemon-lime perform because you know, I'm a high performing individual). Now that I'm back home and settled in, I wish I would've bought some snacks (there aren't any real grocery stores in Carroll Gardens proper since the Key Foods went bust. Jeez, I can't believe I've managed to bring up that abominable store twice in one post).

I've posted more images on Flickr (yes, I've started buying into the whole Flickr mania--though I could still take or leave You Tube) if you're interested.

The parking lot was about 85% full

They had just wrapped up a stirring rendition of "New York, New York"

 
The Brooklyn Eagle and either a co-owner or the landlord (I've seen this same man with two different names attributed to him in newspapers--maybe the landlord and owner are both large gray-haired men in overalls?).

ho I tCheeses of the

world

A cute alternative to the typical laughing cow cheese. I think the text was in Hebrew.

I'm not cheese obsessed, I was just trying to find something for price comparison. Blue Castello, one of my middlebrow favorites, was $4.29 (or $4.59--my mind is blanking) which seemed spendy. It's only 99-cents at the East Village Cheese Shop, but then theirs is also half-rancid half of the time.

The bakery scene. I managed to abstain from the free cookies

No crowd for meat

Awesome. The world has totally gone squeezable crazy. I mean, is there such a high demand for convenient cranberry sauce?

Bounty of produce. They had some nice looking heirloom tomatoes, but I wasn't on a mission to buy.

Just a lone mopper on this aisle

In case you were interested. I've always been scared of grocery store bathrooms so I didn't go in.

Firemen love dry aged meat. Isn't there a beefcake joke in there somewhere?

There was a mob for free samples of jumbo shrimp, off to the left.

No lines at checkout--I wonder how long that'll last.

The Company I Keep

Though it’s doubtful, perhaps I’m maturing or getting taste, but the clothes are crap everywhere I look. Ok, I only looked at New York  & Company but even amidst their mediocrity I often find one or two reasonable items (seriously, no one believes that I’ve actually unearthed unhideous duds there). Not so, recently.

  I think it’s the midtown dilemma. Something that would be $9.99 in the boroughs (or the rest of America) seems to stay at $39.99 at this location. This shiny, newish NY & Co. lacks the chain’s major calling card: the sloppy sale rack. No one shops at the former Lerner because they actually love the clothes. At any Brooklyn branch, the full-priced front displays are desolate with just a lone security guard milling around. The crowds are all crammed in the back where the marked down stuff is.

Not only was former stalwart NY & Co. a bust when I paid a visit last week, but my go-to cheap shoe store, Strawberry, a couple store fronts down, had been decimated, it was just a shell. Not that I mind having that lame excuse for a Strawberry put out of its misery. I only went twice since setting up shop in this part of midtown and both excursions were beyond fruitless. The stock was depleted and miserable, and now I know why. Boo to the east 50s—Bloomingdale’s is no substitute when I need a cheap and borderline tacky fix.

New York & Company * 715 Lexington Ave., New York, NY

Post-Easter Bliss

I've been on a few NYC Target excursions since my last Linden, NJ adventure, but they were nothing to write home about. I always feel more satisfied by New Jersey, and it's reflected in my receipts. I blew $131 like it was nothing.

That's what happens when you buy clothes. I mean, the most expensive thing I bought was a green and brown striped drop waist dress for $24. $131 wouldn't even get you a dress at many stores. I also picked up a black drapey number for $19 (which I think might be too big, believe it or not, and now I'm having a dilemma because I doubt they'll have much of a selection to choose an exchange from at the closer Atlantic Center Target). And a couple springy pastel shirts, one with cute pink glass-like buttons.

All Easter candy was 75% off, and unlike the marked down holiday sweets aisles I've seen in NYC, there was still abundance. Rows and rows of pastel goodness. I limited myself to a 47-cent four-pack of Cadbury eggs.

I also picked up a $9.99 cherry printed Luella Bartley bag, Neutrogena moisturizer, Kashi granola bars, Clairol Herbal Essences conditioner (I've just started buying this brand because it actually does smell nice, but I wouldn't for years because I hated their orgasmic commericals so much) Always maxi pads (don't laugh-I know people think pad-wearers are losers, but you can't stop me) and a most surprising wood grain pillow that matches the skirt I bought back in January.

Target * 621 W Edgar Rd., Linden, NJ

Is Giardiniera Contagious?

I had to track down hot sauce from ten different Latin American countries in short order. That's not as easy as it might sound at first because Mexican is no problem. You could go to a Brazilian store (maybe in Astoria or 46th St. in Manhattan) or head out to Elmhurst or Corona and scout out Ecuadorian bodegas. It's all doable, but involves hunting and pecking. NYC is so not about one-stop shopping.

I had my trusty Western Beef to fall back on. If anyone would have a wide variety under one roof, it would be them. And I easily managed to find six out of my ten, from Mexico, Brazil, Columbia, Costa Rica, Dominican Republic and Ecuador. I didn't bother with photos of them, that's for a near future project that'll appear in print.

The advertised sale price expiring nearly two months ago is not quite so rad. But it still rung up at 99-cents.

So adorable, Fresquito almost makes you want to clean other people's bathrooms.

This cloudy plastic tub of who-knows-what always makes me wary. The word giardiniera is too close to giardia for my taste.

Thank You, Internets

Phew, I knew if I waited long enough someone would've gone nuts with Union Square Trader Joe's Flickr sets, and save me the trauma. (I really like how the world is evolving into a place where leaving the house is totally unnecessary. Having bit of a child star fetish I wanted to see Mac Culkin reading his literary masterpiece on Monday, but couldn't get it together. As it turns out, I didn't have to because video of the event turned up on YouTube. I still don't quite get why YouTube is the new hotness, but I'm slowly warming up to it).

I considered joining in the opening day mayhem, but you know, having a job tends to cramp one's moblogging style. And besides, I'm still reeling from the Atlantic Center Target debut from a year and a half ago.

If I'm not too bleary tomorrow, I might just check out TJ's day after carnage.

Greatest Show on Earth

It's sad when seven-year-old make up makes you happy. But such is the case with Cosmetic Show, the only shining light in my otherwise bland work neighborhood. I've bemoaned the state of the east 50s ever since setting up shop there seven weeks ago. Boring.

Yet, less than a full block away from my office is this crazy Odd Job (R.I.P.) of beauty products (with candy, Nutella, cookies and nuts incongruously shelved near the front window). The magic happens in the back of the store where there are bins of relatively organized new and dead stock. And it's all after my heart.

Like the L'Oreal True Match powder that I just bought a few months ago is available for $5 in all shades, not just weirdo ones. But what fascinates me most is all of the discontinued products and colors they have that I purchased in the late '90s and still use (hygiene aside, I own lots and lots of make up so lipstick or eye shadow can last a decade. Fuck that throw things away after six months propaganda. I've never had a problem yet, it's my own germs).

I was first mesmerized by their cache of Maybelline Lip Polish from an old 1998 space themed series of pale shimmery shades. I still have my tube of beigey Galactic Sands, which I bought as a 26th birthday present to myself at the Rite Aid on Fresh Pond Rd. in Ridgewood. Insane as it sounds now, it was a serious splurge at a time when making the rent was a severe struggle. I recall stressing over a $12 pair of Payless tennis shoes that same summer.

Those lip glosses weren't even all that great, kind of thick and dry like spackle, more matte than gloss. I can see why they didn't catch on. But I had to buy a $2 tube of iridescent lavender Planet Pluto for old time's sake.

They also had little tubs of L'Oreal On the Loose Shimmering Powder, which they still might make, I'm not sure. I've used my intensely teal Diva Down shade for years. I was always impressed by the strong pigmentation, which is unusual in drug store brands. So, I grabbed a $2 container of burgundy-brown Raisin' Cane just for fun.

Same for the Vintage Pink Lancome Rouge Sensation (it didn't come smashed-that was an accident on my end), which I have no sentimental connection to. It just seemed like a good everyday color for a good deal $6 (it's $22 at Sephora and much less bubblegummy than it looks on their site).

To my knowledge Cosmetic Show isn't a chain, but dammit, it should be.

   
1998 makeup on the left and new old 2006 versions on the right

Cosmetic Show * E. 55^th St., New York, NY

Chain Links: Good and Bad

In my book there's no such thing as a bad chain--I have room in my heart for them all--but clearly not everyone agrees.

New Yorkers have been crapping themselves over the soon-to-open Trader Joe's. Part of me can't blame them. $2.99 vegan pad thai? Amazing (I guess), though I'm more of a discount Niman Ranch bacon and Total Greek yogurt shopper.

The new Bed-Stuy Applebee's isn't being met with so much love. What kind of foolish freaks line up for honey bbq Riblets, they ask? Well, these people, apparently. There are worse crimes than Applebee's fascination. I'll admit that a new chain in a formerly chain-less area can be weirdly thrilling.

I'm just excited to hear that the Applebee's is housed in a former Lerner's. If they'd only create a two-in-one concept.

Fruitless Venture

Ok, I've already lamented about the lame food situation in my new work neighborhood, and now I'm having second thoughts about the shopping scene too. Inititally, I was wowed by the strip on and around 57th and Lexington with Aerosoles, New York & Company, Daffy's and Strawberry. Of course Bloomindale's is also in the area, but that's a horse of a different color (green).

So, despite three floors and a plus size section, the Grand Central location still beats all because I've always looked to Strawberry primarily as a source of cheap shoes. And this one has a pathetic little pocket in the basement that's always crammed with like four workers sitting around and socializing while pretending to stock the ten items on display.

And to add insult to injury I happened to buy one of the smallest X large shirts in existence (I've never seen poly-blend tee shirt fabric with so little stretch) and somehow lost the receipt, which I never ever do. And this new job is so time sucking that I didn't make it back for almost a month and apparently the store has a retarded 14-day return/exchange policy and only with a receipt. I didn't even bother for the $14.99, but now I'm stuck with a crappy too small shirt. I've soured on Strawberry.

Strawberry * 711 Lexington Ave., New York, NY

Key to Happiness

I don't think anyone would be cheering for Key Food's Court Street demise any louder than I. Good riddance is an understatement. Unfortunately, I was too busy/lazy this weekend to snap any photographic souvenirs of the decimation. Lucky for me this neighborhood is thick with bloggers that I can vicariously get my doses of shopping schadenfreude from.

My fear is that the supposed CVS taking its place will hire all the displaced Key Food employees. The disaffected teens will stay cashiers and the white lab coat guy who stands by the front doors doing nothing will become a pharmacist.

I do think it's weird that for such gentrified neighborhood, this little corner will have zero grocery stores. As much as I've always loathed Key Food, it was my only easily walkable after work option. There's not a heck of a lot open after 7 pm in these parts. I can only guess that many Carroll Gardens citizens must have cars or rely on Fresh Direct.

Does the neighborhood need another drug store? [423smith]
Key Food pandemonium [milk.org]
All of Carroll Gardens to close [A Brooklyn Life]

Key Food * 395 Court St., Brooklyn, NY

A Study in Beef

I'm not one inclined towards the visual. I always think words first, but admittedly, I do enjoy store photos. Yes, I actually like looking at mundane grocery store interiors. Here are some lovely shots of my favorite NYC food shop (Balducci's, my ass).

Believe it or not, these ma and pa potatoes just appeared last month. I wonder what kind of person would create such a thing.

Watch out for the cavalcade of wieners spilling forth.

I don?t know that the typical Western Beef customer demands skinless drumsticks. The big box of frozen White Castle burgers peeking from the left is more like it.

Dulce de leche and Whoppers flavored syrups? Crazy.

That's a heck of a lot of mini Welchito cans in the distance.

   
You don't have to have an SUV to shop here.

More: western beef

Talented and Gifted

I was on a mission to find my sister a sure-to-be-belated birthday present (it was the day before her birthday and she lives in the U.K.). But shopping for others always morphs into buying for yourself.

I did pick up a skinny package of those colorful screen printed Choxie squares and a Nerds Valentine's set for her. But the rest of her gift would have to wait.  I went in with no intentions of buying for myself, yet walked out with:

Clothing: Luella Bartley polo with appliqud cherries on the chest and cutesy sweater with patchwork birds (I guess I'm appliqu crazy). Food: Hello Kitty Pop Tarts in "meow berry" and Choxie Aztec Thin bar with cinnamon and ancho chile (you can't really taste the chile). Housewares: ceramic faux bamboo dishes that match a similarly patterned vintage tablecloth I bought off ebay last year that totally out-Jonathan Adlers Jonathan Adler. 

Target * 8801 Queens Blvd., Elmhurst, NY

Wubba Wubba

Yes, TJ rumors have been swirling for months. And now it's finally official via their website and the paper of record.

I think I would've been more thrilled about this first NYC appearance a few years ago when James still lived next to the Palladium dorms (it's frightening to think that these freshman were likely born the same year that Club MTV debuted--1987, if you need me to do the math). But I've become so acclimated to the New Jersey Trader Joe's experience that I know I won't have the patience for the initial novelty-seeking mobs and undergrads going nutso over cheap soy cheese and frozen chimichangas.

I don't recall Trader Joe's piping in music at all, but maybe if we're lucky they'll play a little Taylor Dane or Jodi Watley just for old times' sake.

Courtly Love

Can you call yourself a mall if you don't even have a food court? James and I rarely have tagalongs during our suburban raids, so having two friends in tow was a rare treat. While we were mixing things up, we thought we'd try a new mall too.

It was a little hairy because the weather turned icy that morning and for some asinine reason, they'd roped off all outdoor parking lots. So, every Lexus and BMW SUV in Essex County were vying for spots in the covered woefully inadequate garage.

  I guess this is a classy mall. But Paramus also has Tiffany, Gucci and Legal Seafood, yet has no qualms about letting them rub shoulders with Orange Julius and Spencer's Gifts. Not so, Short Hills. We wanted a snack (before going wild at Chevys later) and were relegated to a packed Au Bon Pain.

They have these demented modern lounge areas scattered throughout the center, but no food or drink is allowed. Just weird fucks watching crackling fires on television screens. The pretense is odd since the skeleton of the mall is classic '70s, angular planters, tiles that creep up from the floor and cover modular benches, and art like a crazy numeral pile that filled me with glee. They've gussied up the offerings with an Apple Store, Sub-Zero Wolf, Appliance Studio and an Anthropologie. But the place so wants to populated with Sears and Dress Barn.

I didn't end up buying a single thing, but that's never the point with me.

The Mall at Short Hills * Route 24 & JFK Parkway, Short Hills, NJ

Under der Linden

The Linden Target is along this peculiar corridor of US 1-9 that's teeming with cheap motels (and a few adult book stores) but it's not too shabby either. Heck, it still beats the Brooklyn Atlantic Center. I certainly came away with a nice haul.

  Apparently, I like purple shirts with ruffles, as I bought a blousy version and tee shirt styled one. I also picked up a simple gray pleated skirt (which reminds me that I forgot to mention the best part of my otherwise blah post-Christmas Target excursion. What might be my best find of 2005: the Isaac Mizrahi woodgrain skirt. I love, love woodgrain and first got into it in late 2004 when I saw some guy's house featured in an issue of Budget Living [that I can't seem to find despite skimming Aug '04 to Jan '05] who'd carpeted his stairs in a comical woodgrain pattern.  I became obsessed with finding woodgrain carpet, and discovered that PB Teen had area rugs, which became a Christmas 2004 gift. I could've killed for something upholstered in Todd Oldham for La Z Boy green iridescent woodgrain, but I didn't/don't have the expendable income. [Didn't that Soho location open last week? We had to trek out to Wayne, NJ to view fabric samples last year. And I just noticed the "novelty" fabrics aren't on the website anymore] Since fall 2004 I got woodgrain pillows from Fred Flare, woodgrain fabric from ebay that I use as a table cloth, woodgrain sheets from Urban Outfitters and today I received my woodgrain iPod skin in the mail) Loreal HiP lip gloss in ingnue, marked down limited edition Be Dazzling Revlon Shimmer Blush in Hint of Ruby, Olay Regenerist skin polisher, a couple 99-cent packs of Archer Farms "indulgent snack mix" a tiered skirt hanger, a pair of tweedy flats and half a set of woodgrain-handled cutlery (I split the pack with a friend, as we both possessed too much flatware already).

I didn't realize how much my Target booty meant to me until I went to take stock of my purchases and realized I was missing one of two bags. I almost started bawling, for real. I was convinced that I'd somehow left a sack behind at the counter, but was relieved to discover that it had simply been forgotten in the car. Phew, close call.

Target * 621 W Edgar Rd., Linden, NJ

Down the Lane

Brylane Home, there's got to be a little Lane Bryant in there, right? Well, they have the same parent company. This is their housewares venture (no, not curtains for fat folks) and it's kind of like a step down from those hodgepodge aisles at Marshall's that are always a mess. Everything feels (visually, obviously I can't touch the goods) cheap.

But from sooty lumpy coal comes diamonds. I often prefer the bottom of the barrel to the middle of the Pottery Barn road because at least I know no one else that I know will have these items (everyone I know has practically the same Ikea and Target goods). And while the vast majority of Brylane Home's offerings suck, at least two or three gems will jump out while thumbing through.

These tables could be straight from PB Teen and are more reasonably priced than that spoiled brat fare. I was hoping this dog bedding set would have a cat counterpart, but no luck. There was a photo image kitten comforter  that I was dying for at Wing On in Hong Kong, but it was too pricy for me (roughly something like $140). I even got sucked in by the hideous pro sports crap and thought it would be funny to buy James a Redskins furry pillow shaped like a football helmet, but there was no D.C. team to be found.

No felines, no Redskins?what kind of half-assed operation is this anyway?! Well, I've yet to order a single item from Brylane, but I always give the catalog a read before tossing.

Day of Rest

This place is best avoided on Sunday evenings. Check out lines creep into the aisles (and this is a larger than average Brooklyn store), legless people in wheelchairs create impromptu obstacle courses and people in line think nothing of asking you to watch their stuff while taking their sweet time going back for items or asking to use your Pathmark card for discounts (I don't have one and James seeing how it's done here, i.e. slow, very slow, stepping out of line at the expense of other's time the norm, decided to go out to the car and look for his card despite being one customer away from the cashier. By the time he made it back in I hadn't even budged).

The produce is nothing to shout about on a good day, but Sundays it's slim pickings. The apples were all brown, the red peppers shriveled and basil awol altogether. I'm hoping that the supposedly soon-to-open Red Hook Fairway will brighten the neighborhood shopping experience a bit. It isn't possible to get much grimmer.

Pathmark * 25 12th St, Brooklyn, NY

Two Floors of Fun

I've steered clear of New York & Company for quite some time. I don't want to relapse with my store credit card usage and I've been trying to wean myself from shimmer and acrylic blends. But I couldn't stay away from their dazzling new midtown location since it's only three blocks from my new job.

The store is a classy, shiny two-floor joint with an escalator, Fischerspooner on the airwaves and no trademark clearance section. What Manhattan will do to a sleazy (not Rainbow sleazy, but Eva Longoria [their new spokeswoman] sleazy. Like their recent press release says "New York & Company offers an extensive selection of sexy fashions at great value.") suburban chain.

But perhaps to make up for the lack of disheveled $9.99 racks, they were having a sale on just about everything. I ended up with three sweaters and two shirts for $66, not bad. Though as usual, once I actually assessed my purchases in the safety of my own home (I never try anything on before buying), two of the five just didn't work. One sweater was just too sparkly and garish and the blouse had belled sleeves which weren't initially obvious, egads.

New York and Company * 715 Lexington Ave., New York, NY

Atlantic Antics

I'm not sure if the store was decimated because it was the day after the day after Christmas or simply because this is a perpetually busted location. I'm no fan of the Atlantic Center, but was forced into its bad feng shui environs because it's the closet DMV to my apartment (did you know the Brooklyn DMV was inside this monstrosity? And it's baffling because I thought the mall was '90s, yet the DMV is straight '70s municipal chic, very Barney Miller. Did they grime up the space, metal, fluorescent light and wood panel it to look authentically old and dreary, or has it rapidly aged?) and the holiday break was my only chance to renew my license that expired in the summer.

Target wasn't crowded as it has been in the past (I once waited in the return line for 30 minutes and it didn't even budge. I gave up and  took that same pair of $24.99 pants to Hackensack, walked right up to the counter, no line, no questions, and had cash in hand in less than 60 seconds) yet no matter where you wanted to be, someone else had to be in that exact spot too. I was trying to look at hair dye and this guy would get between me and the shelf no matter what, there was no way he was buying hair coloring, he was just being an irritant. Have you ever noticed that about Brooklyn? If you show any interest in an item, look at it, or god forbid, touch it, a stranger will instantly appear and all of a sudden become bizarrely engrossed in what they previously could've cared less about?

But like I said, the shelves were bare. Where purses and bags should've been, sat empty hooks. I wanted to try the chile flavored Choxie bars, but there weren't any to be had. I then, went for my second favorite guilty pleasure after chocolate: makeup.

I was mesmerized by a new line from Loreal called HIP or H.i.p. or something like that (there's no mention of it on their website). I think the acronym stands for high intensity pigment, and is not merely hip. I think they're trying to tap into the MAC market with bright, intense colors which I'm a sucker for. Remember Revlon's Street Wear aping Urban Decay in the late '90s (I still own and wear a few of the eye shadows and lip glosses-no germs or expiration date worries for me)? I love drug store knock offs. And apparently, so does Brooklyn because there was one orphaned tube of dark purple lip gloss left on the entire plastic display. The color I wanted too, but you know it was messed with. I will have to head to a New Jersey Target to satisfy my urge for gimmicky cosmetics and candy.

Target * 139 Flatbush Ave., Brooklyn, NY

*Image borrowed from Samology, which might possibly be the only site that's ever "photoblogged" the Brooklyn DMV. (There are signs all over the place about no camera phones, photos, etc. and I'm scared of breaking rules and pissing off already disgruntled government workers and impatient waiting room dwellers. I got dirty looks just for trying to sit on the far end of an occupied wooden bench--I haven't felt such Oz-like vibes since my Ridgewood-Bushwick Lucille Roberts days.)

Nothing in Common

'Tis the season of design bazaars, boutique sales and the like. And I always have the intention of attending a few, but inevitably end up at an outlet mall. The suburbs are genetically coded in me. A. I'm cheap. B. I'm a chunk. Like I said, suburban. While I admire the charming, well-curated, indie ethos, mass produced items tend to fit me and my pocketbook a little better.

Woodbury Common is almost like a little ski village (not that I've ever skied or visited a resort town) with a cluster of outdoor stores nestled at the foot of a mountain. I suppose I'm equating the set up with a series of alpine lodges since I only seem to visit around December when it's frosty and bone chilling. The piped in music is kind of unsettling. They really seem to be playing that bouncy Paul McCartney "Wonderful Christmastime" song an awful lot this year. It has never driven me so insane before.

I don't even hit half the stores. Some are irrelevant like Yankee Candle, Sunglass Hut (they also have a Sunglass Station) or NauticaKids, the whole designer row with Dolce & Gabbana and Versace does little for me, and some like Lladro just baffle me (the word always registers in my brain as lardo, and the porcelain figurines are equally confusing. They had these stores when I was in Hong Kong, which seemed even weirder than being in the Catskills).

I really didn't buy much, but I?m more about the experience (and the Applebee's). I settled on a green and white striped wool sweater from Banana Republic, purple velvet blazer, turquoise sequined cardigan and ruffly mint green sheer blouse at Gap, crazy puffy (not furry) white Khombu boots at Famous Footwear (I normally wouldn't look twice at these, but the snow had affected my brain) and red sturdy slippers at J. Crew (as a gift for James, he bought me the green version. Never mind that they were men's). So, I basically bought gifts for myself and will probably do so again in 2006.

Woodbury Common * 498 Red Apple Court, Central Valley, NY

Farm is Stretching it a Bit

This 24-hour cornucopia of cheap produce can be out of the way, depending where you live. But it?s a million times better than any place else in the neighborhood (which isn't saying much considering Greenwood Heights/North Sunset Park/definitely not South Slope lacks proper amenities like real grocery stores [National Supermarket doesn't count] banks and pharmacies. They've got car washes, gas stations, fast food, open-on-Sunday liquor shops, porn palaces/peep shows and a federal prison in spades, however). So, I wouldn't call it a destination shop, but I used to live down the street, and even now it's less than ten minutes by car from Carroll Gardens.

The 25th Street block, between Third and Fourth avenues also has the distinction of nearly being the only scene of a crime I've experienced in my 7 years in NYC. Some kid tried mugging me in broad daylight underneath the BQE while trying to cross the street to Rossman Farms. He didn't get my grocery money despite making mean faces, demanding my wallet numerous times (I was like, "do you mean my wallet or my money?" And I wasn't being a smart ass, my heart was sinking thinking about having to replace my driver license, credit cards and the like just weeks before going on a big vacation I'd been planning for eons. If he just wanted the money, which he eventually agreed that he did, I'd give him the stupid $12 rather than get shot or stabbed) and acting like he had a weapon in his pocket. This was over two years ago and I'm still irritated by the inanity.

The sprawling corner store has recently gussied up with a new sign, covered entry (I'm not sure why it took them so long to decide to shield the outdoor perishables from the elements), electronic screen price displays for some vegetables, more herbs and a smaller yet tidier layout. However, I was stymied by their lack of scales. I guess weighing devices are a luxury. I needed 2 pounds of red peppers and had to go by feel. I was convinced I was well over my requirement but the total was only 1.81 pounds at the register. Now I'm about a pepper short for the muhammara I'm making as a party dip.

Rossman can be hit or miss and is frequently random. For instance, on my latest visit POM branded pomegranates near the front door were going for $3.99 each while further back in the store there were a pile of $1.49 specimens, a little withered but likely still edible. Different displays come with different price tags. I also picked up eight for $1 limes, ginger, mint, basil, a 69-cent bag of onions, and some beets, which I eventually decided against because they seemed goopy and wet. Quality can be an issue, but they still out perform the heinous Key Food closer to my apartment. They also have Israeli canned foods, Sabra products, corn tortillas (even blue ones), as well as staples like milk, juice and eggs.

Watch out, parking under the BQE. No, not for hooligans, used condoms or empty malt liquor bottles, but for dangerous cake remnants. I stepped out of my door, slipped on something viscous and almost fell on my head. Apparently, some freak(s) had eaten an entire cake and left behind the foil-topped, round cardboard base. It was still smeared with frosting and I skidded out on it like a banana peel. What the hell? I'm trying to imagine if a lone binger was scarffing down in her (you know it's not a his) car or if a group on foot had congregated under the shadowy roadway and communally dug in.

Rossman Farms * 770 Third Ave., Brooklyn, NY

My Lerner Permit

I finally paid off my credit card and have been reluctant to pay a visit since. Yes, I have a NY & Co. credit card (complete with pre-2001 holographic Twin Towers) It was out of late ?90s necessity. I never touched Lerner before moving here, but my standards and expectations were all out of whack. If it?s $9.99 polyester dress shops blasting reggaeton (ok, reggaeton wasn?t around seven years ago) or a mall name I recognize, I?m going with the suburban familiarity.

Lerner, now New York & Company, was the only store walking distance to my first NYC apartment in Ridgewood, Queens where I could buy interview and temp outfits on credit. I don?t think they helped much, despite the supposed internet boom jobs were few and far between.

The trick is not paying full price because it?s not much of a bargain. The main draw is the sale racks. If you have a credit card you?re sent enticing coupons that encourage you to spend over $75, and you?re entitled to discount days, all sorts of crap to draw women in. And does it work. During these sales, the check out line literally goes to the door. Waiting in one makes you feel like part of a scary club.

After moving to Sunset Park, Brooklyn, I was still walking distance to a NY & Co. (though a long walk, at around twenty blocks). My tastes had grown a touch (only a touch, mind you) more sophisticated, but I wasn?t above the occasional cute skirt, sparkly sweater or slinky top. Though I?ve managed to weed over the years, my wardrobe contains a disproportionate amount of NY & Co. fare.

Sometimes I frequent the Bay Ridge location because it?s a block from Century 21 and you can kill two shopping birds with one stone. I?ve had good luck at the 86th Street branch, but the ladies in line were going on about how the Sunset Park one wasn?t in a good neighborhood (you know, not classy like Bay Ridge) but had better selection. Each to their own.

Now that I live in Carroll Gardens, there isn?t in my line of vision, which is a shame. I?m not too good for NY & Co., it?s just inconvenient to pay a visit. But not for long. Just yesterday a 58th and Lexington location opened (they really need to beef up their Manhattan presence) and I have a very good feeling about a new job just four blocks away. And no, I didn?t wear a single NY & Co. item to the interview.

Cashmere for Beginners

I?m not sure what it says about me that I find it easier to get to Edison, NJ than Soho, despite the latter being a subway jaunt away. I just never get down to that pocket of Manhattan. But I?d feel like a loser if I didn?t at least pop my head inside the latest temporary NYC Uniqlo (I didn?t partake in the Vice permutation). And I happened to have a hair cut scheduled just a few blocks away, so it fit into my two errands per trek minimum.

Surprisingly, I think the prices were lower on many items. A promotional attention-grabber, I?m guessing. This morning I saw a big full page ad in one of those daily freebies someone was reading on the subway. And while I think the Soho collection was pared down, it seemed comparable to what was offered in New Jersey. The two floor set up made the store seem larger. I refrained from buying anything, but I?ll admit the sweaters are nicer than my cheapie collection that mostly consists of Old Navy and NY & Co. acrylic blends.

Uniqlo Soho * 76 Greene St., New York, NY

Hackensack of Crap

I'll never hear the end of how I passed over our recent favorite Edison (location in favor of trying a new Costco. (There was logic behind my choice. I also wanted to go to Trader Joe's and The Melting Pot, which are closer to Hackensack.) While not quite Sunset Park traumatizing, this was not an upper rung version. You know you're in trouble when cars are hovering for available parking spots and customers stalk each other for free carts. Costco is about bounty, plenty, that's the aspect I get off on, and if I'm going to have to push and shove and fend for myself, then I might as well stay home in Brooklyn. Not impressed.

While we were getting ready to head out, an impatient guy waiting for us to vacate our spot shook his head and gave James an exasperated women look and hastily drove off. Instead of helping load groceries into the trunk, I was taking photos of the faade and creepy industrial river behind our car. Big fucking deal, like I was somehow ignoring my wifely duties. Besides, I don't see a ring on my finger, and even if I did I'd still shirk and snap pointless photos. See ya, Hackensack.

Costco * 80 South River St., Hackensack, NJ

Westwood Ho

It feels like I was just here, but I needed to pick up a few items for my post-Thanksgiving dinner party (plus, I was itching to try The Melting Pot down the street). After my recent Monteblue & Populet dabbling, I went back with the original Rosencrunch & Guildenstern (it's been four days since I bought the can and I've had the willpower to leave it unopened. But once that seal is broken, all hell will break loose). I was fairly restrained with my purchases, swooping up a small wedge of Saint Nectaire, packs of prosciutto and smoked salmon, two boxes of individually packaged oatmeal (for breakfast every weekday except Monday when it's bagel day in the office. Bagel day brings more pleasure to my routine than it has any right to), sparkling cranberry and blueberry juices (possible party drink mixers), English toffee, butter (Cabot's, not the Plugra because I already have two hunks of that. I wouldn't normally need so much fatty dairy in the house, but I'll be cooking for 20+ people the weekend after next), fresh cherry preserves, 144 ounces of chicken broth (five cartons) and five cans of pumpkin puree. Thank goodness we have the storage space. If I had a typically sized NYC apartment, I'd be screwed.

Trader Joe's * 20 Irvington St., Westwood, NJ

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday, Ikea. I realize 15% isn't much, but it's not often there's a storewide sale, so I took advantage. Oddly, only the Paramus location was participating, which was fine by me since Elizabeth is busted and rife with NYCers and Hicksville feels far on the LIE. At Paramus the workers are grown up white people, that's how you know you're in a real suburb (as opposed to ratty Elizabeth). Jobs that only minority teens will do in the city are performed by joe schmos in most parts of the country. I know I've lived here too long when smiling, helpful workers make me suspicious.

Everything is efficient, clean and well stocked, the dead opposite of picked over sour puss Elizabeth. There was a cart guy who actually offered to take ours as we were pushing them back to the store after loading our car. A woman comes around and takes plates and washes the tables while you're dining in the caf. The coke-bottle-spectacled cashier who seemed like a library shelver reject made small talk about the Hella Jongerius vase I'd purchased. "Do you read the Bergen Record"? Uh, no. Apparently, there had been an article on these vessels, which is why the stock had been nearly depleted--the white one I'd wanted was gone and we got the last pink one.

They had free sheet cake and there was more than enough to go around and there wasn't even a line (I could only imagine how this would play out in the Red Hook location, if it ever opens. It would be a messy mob scene, for sure) Um, I could do without their house reggae band, Verdict, who has been playing bad covers on more than one occasion. But that's a small price to pay for an otherwise sane shopping experience.

Ikea * 100 Ikea Dr., Paramus, NJ

The Bard of Snacking

We took a break from Westfield and went back to our original New Jersey locale in Westwood (apparently, having west in your township's name guarantees a Trader Joe's will set up shop). It's less mobbed than Westfield, but lacks a liquor license, which might have something to do with the huge A&P Liquors immediately next door. Westwood is cute and Martha Stewart-ish, they a small town shopping strip with two candy stores and a grassy gazebo. Oh, and a Melting Pot restaurant. I thought that chain had totally died out in the '80s.

I was pretty restrained in my buying. I used to go nuts buying unnecessary frozen items and sauces. I mean, I live in NYC, I don't need prepackaged pizza and Chinese food. I now stick to things that are more expensive and specialty here like maple syrup, vanilla beans, certain cheeses, spiced nuts, etc. And I always go overboard on sweets and snacks.

This time I was suckered in by a tin of the new stupidly named Monteblue & Populet (the original is Rosencrunch & Guildenstern) a walnut and blueberry caramel corn. Caramel corn is my nemesis, I absolutely can?t stop eating it once I start. (At Target I go crazy for their version with cranberries, and it's dangerous because it's packaged in this huge clear plastic container and priced cheaper than the smaller Poppycock.) I ate all eleven Monteblue & Populet servings in twenty four hours. Damn those Shakespearean puns and their tasty popcorn.

Trader Joe's * 20 Irvington St., Westwood, NJ