Wednesday, November 7, 2007
The Fair Way
In a fair land, in a fair away place, in a fair city, there resides a fair store that I frequent. It is absolute perfection. The floors are cement, the aisles are only big enough for one, but usually boast about 27. This is the UN I like to visit, so many different languages all pushing and pulling, bumping and meshing, and looking for Gouda. The flower market graces the outside, as fresh and colorful in-season veggies beckon you inward and onward. I heed the call, you should too.
The ways are too narrow, the shelves are too high, but this is my equivalent of Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. And everything is lined up. I love the lines, I can walk through this fair isle of Manhattan and stare at the lines and lines and rows and rows. There is something that is thrilling about the lines and angles of the shelves. It gives me more pleasure than I care to admit. But, I will admit that sometimes I venture in with nothing I need to buy, just to pay a visit to the jam and the mustard.
The mustard is quite moody....you know how international icons can be! So posh, so beckham, so flavorful. I buy my little French mustard here, the one in the smallest jar, but possessing the biggest attitude. He pretends he doesn't like me, but when he finds out I am fluent, he secretly smiles.
The jam, on the other hand, is always happy to see me! And boy, does she have gossip to share! She just chatters away about the olives, the imported wine, the proud Lindt, and let's not forget the drama of the freshly-made-ready-to-cook pasta! (talk about putting on airs!!) I don't linger longer here as often as I do with the mustard. Heed my warning: the jam, though as friendly as a glass of lemonade on a summer day--will make you the subject of her gossip the moment you round the bend to buy a freshly baked baguette!