We made a pilgrimage to the new Whole Foods in Ann Arbor today, as required by our residency contract with Washtenaw county. It always surprises me just how much the marketing of food lends to its appeal. For instance, entering the store, you are assaulted with the scents and sights (lit by the sun from mid-afternoon until sun set, I assume) of fresh, polished fruits and vegetables. The unsightly boxes that these foods came in is visible, all are stacked by hand in neat towers of spheres or columns. It’s glorious; food as a vision. You can’t help but want all of it because it looks so appealing. It’s like the red-light district materialized in a grocery store, but all the hookers became apples, leaks, and.. well, melons.
Now, I will admit there are things available at Whole Foods that simply cannot be found at Kroger or the local grocery store; cheese and fish tend to be on our list when we hit Whole Paycheck. But, for the embarrassing amount we spent today, much of it was splurging: potato latkes and grilled leaks simply don’t land on our menu very often.
Don’t get me wrong, if I had the means, I’d gorge myself on $20 fruit tarts and $50/pound hand-massaged cheese until I burst. But I always feel slightly guilty partaking in the gastronomical orgy of that place, like I should have just stayed with that steady girlfriend instead of hitting the hookers and blow in The Valley.
Tune in next week when I crank up the hypocracy and go back to Whole Foods for a sushi lunch.