Shopping the Pandemic

 I have a week off, which means a little less attention to Covid-19. Routines have developed over the past five months. Wash hands, wear mask. Work is just work now, albeit with the experience heightened.

I continue messing around with sort of pandemic-related production of foodstuffs. Making food that I might otherwise buy. The supply chain has been rattled and will continue so. Get used to making do.

Nut butters have been my latest interest. Almond butter made from blanched, toasted almonds proved righteous. Butter made from toasted walnuts less so. You may or may not like the toasted taste. Honey helped, salt did not. I can confirm that raw walnut butter with honey is a smooth, dessert-level confection.

We headed North today for canning supplies. First stop Walmart. I haven’t stepped into the belly of that beast in years. I didn’t see the sign that says Give Up Now And We’ll See What Happens but I’m sure it’s there. Beth thought they could fulfill our need for canning jars. The parking lot exhibited an enclosing sort of heat, with humidity cheerfully present. Tape blocked off the entrance in such a way that people had to enter single file. There was a greeter at the door, tho he didn’t really greet us. Beth greeted him, as is her wont. He probably had to watch for the maskless and those who would scoot under the tape to crowd ahead.

The store is vast and grubby. We sought quart-sized canning jars. We were directed to the appropriate aisle but only found pints. We got some kitchen utensils and left. Beth gave the man out front a bottle of water.

After a quick stop to see Beth’s mother we passed from Taxachusetts to Live Free Or Die. Which doesn’t sound like freedom, after all. The or else vibe comes across as threatening. And what, really, does freedom mean?

Walmart isn’t exactly grim, at least the one in Lowell isn’t, but I get the feeling that second rate is first rate there. I got a similar sense Saturday when I had to pop into Ocean State Job Lots in search of rubber gloves. OSJL sells remaindered items and, I think, anything at all from China. They stayed open during the lockdown because they could source toilet paper and masks from somewhere. Even Walmart cannot match the grimness of Ocean State. It’s okay, you don’t need to know why the stuff is so cheap. In the end, I couldn’t find gloves in the squalor of the store. The hardware store did me better.

After those stores, Costco seems pristine. It is an efficient machine. A vacuum-packing food storage system provided our target. We mean to fill that freezer of ours. Of course we got other stuff, too. We began the pandemic with a galore of toilet paper and olive oil by virtue of not remembering what we had at home when faced with Costco’s largesse. I saw no one without a mask despite New Hampshire‘s license plate exhortation. Walmart likewise.

Beth always engages cashiers and other store employees she may speak to. The cashier yesterday unburdened herself a little about working during the pandemic. This boat we share makes us conscious of others, like it or not. I don’t have the outgoing gene but I try to see that person before me. We’re all dazzled by the calamity.