Foodie Saturday Field Trip (FSF): Wegmans
Jamie and I decided to reduce our cabin fever by taking
a ride to Wegman’s yesterday.
It had everything the heart desires,
where dishes come true. We loved
the amazing selection of seafood
and meats. And, don’t get me
started on cheese, which my son
once said, is,”like heroin for
women”. I may need to go to rehab.
I had eaten a couple of Eggo waffles before take-off and was
somewhat satisfied. I’ve learned the hard way,
not to go shopping on an
empty stomach. But, this
wasn’t shopping, it was
a food fantasy. If I
hadn’t eaten, it would
have been pure gluttony.
This crossed my mind at
the checkout, as I
realized if I was hungry,
the bill could have the
potential to challenge
the national debt.
Our first ride was at the sushi
counter. The color of the
sashimi was so bright, it was
like twinkling lights, without
the twinkle. The only time I’ve
seen sushi that fresh was when
a store most likely bathed it
in sulfa. This was the real
deal. There was a silent
stand-off between getting the
tuna or salmon, which ended
We were ready to tear ourselves away from the sushi station when
a little girl, maybe 9 yrs old, said to her mother, “look Mommy, a
squid.” I turned and gave Jamie a gourmet-smirk, and
cued eye rolling. There in the case sat a fresh octopus, clearly
marked in black magic marker lettering (on a piece of wood
for authentic presentation) OCTOPUS. Don’t get me wrong,
I love children. I especially love children that can read. But my
youngest son wasn’t much older than her when I brought an
octopus home for dinner. He was like a little Shackleton, braving the
tentacles and figuring out how to not only cook it, but survive the
experience. He cooked it, ate it and loved it. I chickened out.
The dog ate the head.
The alluring light emitted from the
hundreds of cases was almost too
much to handle. It was like the
opposite of a magnetic force field.
We spent some time examining the
different kinds of pate. Jamie is
going to make a Beef Wellington,
and a pate lined crust is critical.
Each pate looked like the other,
but I felt the need to look like I
was discriminating. They didn’t have
what he was looking for, and we
both found ourselves looking at the section below pate, to the
caviar. He asked me if I wanted caviar, and again, I felt an air
of snobbiness come over me. “Not really” I said. I thought
that if you were going to buy caviar, shouldn’t it come from
Moscow, Paris or New York? The packages looked fancy enough,
but I pictured myself in a cashmere cape, strolling into a little
shop in Paris taking samples, and politely ordering a generous
quantity for a dinner party with a few of my classy French friends.
We slowly backed away from the pate, and let the crowd lull us
to our next target.
There is so much to write about the experience, but I encourage anyone
who is feeling frozen and hold-up in their house to go and check it out.
You don’t have to be on a pate mission, or looking for anything you
can’t pronounce. Just have fun, pick up dinner, and most importantly
DO NOT GO ON AN EMPTY STOMACH.