I am starting 2008 with one simple goal. After living in an apartment for a semester, which includes a fully stocked kitchen, I’ve decided that it is a shame, and slightly embarrassing, not to be at home in my kitchen.
To be quite honest, I am not the least bit familiar with the kitchen. At most, I use the microwave to zap instant oatmeal, the refrigerator to cool Diet Cokes and the sink in which to pile my dirty dishes. As far as the stove and the oven, let’s just say we’re not exactly best friends.
But now I want to know how and what to whip up for dinner. but just the basics, like grilled cheese and spaghetti.
But the biggest challenge keeping me from becoming a college cook? The grocery store. For some, the grocery store is relaxing, a somewhat fun outing. Others are indifferent to the grocery buying errand. But for those who are racked by anxiety about making simple decisions, like me, the grocery store can bring on bouts of fear and trembling.
Let me put this into perspective for you. I break into a sweat when trying to decide what to order for dinner at a restaurant I have eaten in since I was a child. Over Christmas break, when out to dinner with my family and facing the endless choices of what to order, my mom has to reassure me: “Emily, it’s only one meal. You’ll have another one in four or five hours.”
So this indecision is carried over and magnified at the grocery store. The rows upon rows of different food choices overwhelm me and make me want to run back through the sliding doors of Kroger, jump back into my car and zip through the Chick-fil-A drive-through, where I don’t need the grocery store.
But determined that 2008 will be different, I head to Kroger. I go by myself, of course, because my roommates have learned that a trip to the grocery store with Emily is usually not pretty, or fun or short.
But I have high hopes of conquering my grocery store phobia and leaving with the ingredients to stock the kitchen with the makings of some nutritious meals.
So I start with turkey from the deli, which is relatively simple.
Now on to the bread aisle. Hmmm, this is a little trickier. Do I want wheat, whole grain, multi grain or 12 grain? Is whole grain better than 12 grain? Which kind lasts longer? And is the 20 cent difference for 12 grains really worth it? I read the nutrition labels, but then can’t remember which one has less carbs. Too confusing. So I decide to put that decision off until later.
I move on to the fruit. I wanted to include more fruits and vegetables in my diet. I attempt to pick out some apples, but there are so many different kinds. Do I want Granny Smith, Fuji or Golden Delicious? And how do you know which ones are the good ones? How many do I need? I don’t want to buy too many because then they will get old before I can eat them all. Like the bread decision, I decide to postpone picking apples.
After failed attempts at bread and fruit, picking a spaghetti sauce surely can’t be as challenging. But I am wrong, there have to be at least 20 different sauces, all each with a slight variation like roasted red pepper and onion or tomato basil. Which one is better? Which one does my mom use in her spaghetti? I don’t know. Maybe the spaghetti will just have to wait.
During this prolonged paralysis by analysis, I run into a friend. I chat a while and then find myself at the check-out line. I end up leaving Kroger with some turkey, mustard, cereal and granola bars. None of these make a full meal. I have no milk to go with the cereal, no bread for the turkey, and nothing to make for dinner.
The grocery store has once again defeated me. As I head to Chick-fil-A, I wonder: Does Auburn have a class in grocery shopping?
