Treasure Island really is such. I walk in and want to gasp at the shining apples stacked in pyramid form. I pick up vegetables-- some spiky, some impossibly small or wildly colored-- I have never seen before. Friendly samples-- cool melon, spicy chips and salsa, greek delicacies galore-- line the aisles. For a foodie/for a lover of grocery stores, it is heaven. The clientele is mostly white. They are healthy and most probably well-educated. They, like me, love their food and will pay the extra bit for the taste and the ethics behind their food. I leave hungry, inspired.
Later that day, we stop to get quick supplies at Village Foods, a local grocery closer to our home. Before we go, I read the reviews online. Wilted produce, one says. I give it one star, says another. I am excited to go.
Hungry for dinner, we enter the glass door plastered with hand-written sale signs and immediately see uninspiring aisles of cans stacked high. The minimalist produce is tucked in the back, only to be found by a little searching. The layout speaks of the customer's desires. While Treasure Island entices shoppers with a cornucopia of fresh fruits and vegetables, Village Market doesn't expect the average shopper to worry much about them. They grab mac-and-cheese flavored crackers and Doritos instead of hummus and organic grapes. The talk is loud, rough. The people are mostly black or hispanic. The customers are wearing scruffy clothes and hunting bargains. Shopping here is about getting something done, it's not a pleasure cruise for the senses.
As I hover over the dinner I am cooking later that night, I ruminate over the first class division I see in Chicago. Food is at the heart of our society and it is fitting that my observations start there.
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