Whole Foods vs. Fairway

Or should it be “Whole Paycheck vs. Fair Pay”?

Whole Foods apparently is feeling the pinch of the recession, touting its stores and wares as (I’m serious here) not expensive. The chain does have a certain reputation, so I get the feeling they’re trying to garner a new customer base, or lure back those who may have left. And that’s fine. Advertise. It’s a free country.

But the radio spots kill me: “I go to Whole Foods for value and fair pricing.” “Every penny counts.” Really? When I think of Whole Foods, an originator and now behemoth of the organic marketplace with 100% market share, I don’t think of “every penny” counting. I think of every penny, nickel, dime and dollar being leeched out of my wallet. Or, rather, their customers’ wallets.

I go to Whole Foods only periodically to stock up on grains and bulk goods. I think I’m the only person I know who can get out of there for under $20 and still have a full bag of groceries, including an esoteric cheese that might strike my fancy. If my husband and daughter come, the tab surely rises, and quickly.

I went there recently for a short list of specialty items to bring for a last-minute beach weekend: Baguette, three cheeses, water crackers, fig or date cake, and cerignola olives. One cheese had to be Cypress Grove Humboldt Fog, a default and house favorite; the two others would be chosen on site to balance out the acidity on both ends. I went to Whole Foods that day because it’s geographically closer and we were in a rush to leave.

Baguette: Check. Water crackers: Check. Humboldt Fog: Check. Olives. Hmm, Olives. Check the olive bar. Slim pickings. Don’t want jarred. Don’t want the mixed. Check jarred. Nothing. Skip the olives. Trek back to inquire about fig cake at the cheese counter. The cheese monger tries to send me to baked goods. “No, it’s compressed, dried fruit, sometimes with nuts. It also comes in apricot.” He asks a pair of other employees. They escort me to the bakery. “No, it’s not a cake, per se.” Bakery sends me to dried fruit section in produce. I knew it was a fool’s mission to hike all the way back to the other end of the store. I did. Not there. Time to cut my losses and check out.

I should’ve gone 10-extra minutes out of the way to Fairway, because in the end I spent 40-minutes going in a circle with my daughter in tow, looking for things that used to be stocked but now don’t exist there. Fairway, I knew, had it all, and I knew where the items would be in the store.

Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against Whole Foods. It’s a neat adventure when you’re in the mood. But I fail to see “value pricing” in organic heirloom tomatoes that cost $6.99 per pound. I don’t even spend $6.99 on the seeds I grow in my backyard for plants that produce by the kilo. But if you’re in the market for tomatoes and don’t grow them yourself, then be my guest. Knock yourself out.

Now, onto Fairway. I’ve spoken of this small, regional chain before, since it opened a store in my county. The prices are good, competitive. The offerings are vast: it is nearly impossible to just zip in and zip out, much less stick to your list. You’re tempted at every turn. Fairway has the Humboldt Fog cheese as well, but it’s pricey, so $27.99 vs. $28.99/lb won’t send me to one store over the other. When I want it, I know I’m going to pay. As for the “on site selection” of companion cheeses, the word “choice” barely scratches the surface: imagine a wall, floor to ceiling, of cheeses from around the world, in addition to those in the front case to choose from and the pre-cut selections just behind you in their own chilled section of the store.

The Fairway baguettes far beat the one I picked up at Whole Foods in both taste and chewy texture. One costs $1.49, sometimes on sale for 99-cents – that’s when you buy four and stock the freezer. The Whole Foods baguette was $2.59 and didn’t compare. My olive experience sealed the deal, though. Fairway offerings – and this is a small store by comparison – are lined up in a two-tiered ring around a large island of shelves. Cerignola olives (they’re the really big ones) are standard and come in four colors: green, black, pink and mixed. There are a number of blends to choose from, herbed, spiced, mild, lemony, Thai-chili infused and otherwise. Kalamata, Nicoise, Picholine – they’re all there. And, at eye level on the island you’ll find accompaniments, condiments and yes, fig, date and apricot cakes sliced into wedges.

Whole Foods has large hot and cold bars of prepared foods, if that’s what you shop for. Fairway does as well, but Whole Foods wins in the number of items offered. However, I don’t buy prepared foods. Fairway has both conventional and organic produce, meats, baked goods and other grocery items. The prices are definitely better than Whole Foods. Don’t even get me started on olive oils: Fairway wins hands down on quantity, quality, plus regions and countries of origin. And a tasting bar, no less! Fairway also has a lot of grains (and my black lentils), but they’re pre-weighed and not all that cheap. Whole Foods bulk goods beats them by a nose on that front, also because of the number of grains and rices offered.

But when I needed snails to make Escargot a la Bourguignon for Valentine’s Day, where did I actually find them? Fairway. I picked up a fresh octopus ($3.99/lb!) on impulse over the summer to grill, and he was huge, glistening and smelled only of sweet sea brine. It’s hard to find anything other than frozen pulpo. And the price was right.

I can’t quite imagine doing my regular shopping there, since I regularly need things ranging from Cheerios to cat litter to Kiwi shoe polish. I know some people who do at Fairway and swear by it. I could not imagine doing a regular, weekly shopping at Whole Foods, although I know people who do. Appealing radio spots, “value pricing” or not, it would take my whole paycheck.

When I passed a Whole Foods billboard for its “value” ad-campaign over the weekend, I laughed to myself in the car. I was on my way to Fairway at the time.

Apparently, I’m a convert. It’s Fair Pay all the way.

Tomatoes are Female. Pole beans, Male.

Last summer, it was “Reflections on Tearing Lettuce.” This year, I have been musing off and on over the sex of my plants. There are male and female flowers on pumpkin vines, for example, so why not “male” and “female” plants themselves?

While not a comprehensive list of all things male, female or otherwise growing in my garden, a definitive few – the masculine and feminine, the tough and the tender, the sturdy and the dainty – make the cut as follows:

Female Plants

Tomatoes are most definitely female. With their hanging orbs perfectly cupped by a gentle hand and warmed by the sun, the fruits await a tender bite to release sweet, dribbling juices. When sliced, a gentle but skilled tongue can probe the gorgeous and glistening inner wells of the fruit for every last drop of sweet and salty goodness.

Summer squash - and the winter squash for that matter. The plants have a gently rambling form with bursting blooms and curlicue tendrils and are extremely productive. Plus the pollinating bees practically run each other over as they compete to enter the soft folds of the open, welcoming blossoms. There’s a lot of sex going on in the garden. And it’s constant in the squash bed.

Delicate fronds of Chervil and her subtle, mysterious taste.

Basil. Perhaps it is the way a good Genovese basil’s scent wafts up as you walk past, like a woman’s perfume. Perhaps it’s the lacy, ruffled edges of certain varieties that make it female. You tell me.

Rhubarb is female. My plant is a division from my grandmother. It has long, bright crimson stalks hidden beneath a canopy of large leaves. The leaves are poisonous but the stalks never fail to please and surprise. The raw taste will bite your tongue off, but its sweet and tangy flavor can be coaxed out by slow, steady, gentle cooking. And like a woman, the plant gets better and better with age.

Contrary to the knee-jerk “meat & potatoes” man’s meal image, potato plants are female. They have delicate, dangling lavender flowers that look lamentingly downward for the eyes to see, but like women, all their deepest secrets are buried beneath the fertile earth.

Male Plants

My climbing, vining, twining pole beans are male. This year, they have aggressively enveloped the three obelisks anchored in the bed and are venturing beyond, threatening to take over each other’s territory. If that’s not male, I don’t know what is. Also, this year, the bean plants are all boast and bravado: they’re puffing their chests, but not producing. By July of last year, I’d already harvested bales of beans. This year, it was slim pickings. These vines are all talk, no action. Definitely male. However, once the beans are prepared by an expert hand and transformed into a glistening tangle of oiled and herbaceous crisp-tender delight, they become female. The climbing bean exception would be Christmas limas. Once two thumbs gently ease open the pod, you reveal their hot fuschia striations of color. Those plants are definitely female from the start.

Tromboletta zucchini. Those hanging zucchinis are male, for obvious reasons. Plus, unchecked, the vigorous vines could overtake an entire backyard.

Tuscan kale is male, with its dark leaves, pebbled texture and plant heft and height.

Eggplants are male. I really gave this some thought because I just couldn’t quite decide. The leaves have a soft underside and the flowers are quite interesting. But they have a tough skin and take just sooo, sooo long to mature, if they do at all. Are they worth the wait? Some say eggplant is an acquired taste. But with the proper care and attention, eggplant can be trained and transformed in the kitchen into a variety of palatable dishes. That transformation is by a female hand, of course.

That’s not everything growing in my garden by any means. I’ve barely considered the cucumbers. Perhaps one night this week, after everyone’s in bed, I’ll sit on the patio with a glass of wine, survey my surroundings as the season winds down, and figure out the sex of my radicchio.

But for now, I think I need a cigarette.

Edible Jewels

We mined over two pounds of amethysts from the earth this weekend.

I knew the first purple potatoes were ready when, upon harvesting some squash, I noticed that a set of potato vines had withered and largely separated themselves from the roots. So out they came.

Varied in size but not in their deep purple color, the fresh potatoes nearly filled our large colander. The timing was perfect as well: it was already late on a Sunday and I needed a carbohydrate to serve with a grilled chicken dinner.

Potatoes are usually cured outdoors for a few days before consumption or storage, but these begged to be savored fresh. Like last year, with the large russets we ate freshly-dug, these purple potatoes were pillowy soft and delicately nutty in flavor. Once gently cleaned, they glistened and glinted like deeply colored gemstones.

All they needed was 15 minutes of steaming, a pat of Plugra butter and a finishing crunch of sea salt.

The curing hardens the skins, which protects and preserves these jewels during winter storage. I’ll do so with the rest of our harvest. I found it odd that only one set of the purple potatoes were ready, but did not question the wisdom of Mother Earth. We dug carefully but thoroughly so as not to disturb the others. There are three more mounds of purple potatoes with hardy vines still going strong, plus a row of red potatoes and another of Yukon Golds maturing beneath the earth.
As an aside, the meal was a real farm-to-table last grasp of summer with volumes of just-picked produce: I grilled the pattypan squashes that I was picking when I discovered the potatoes, herbed-up the chicken before my plants die down next month and served some of the last corn on the cob of the season. But the nights are arriving earlier and growing colder. School began two weeks ago. I fear there’s not much time left.

Peach Picking

And more crucially, peach pie making!

We went peach picking over the weekend at a nearby farm. It was tremendous fun, and we must have picked a peck of ‘em. But I was transported into another world.

I was utterly captivated by the orchard, the soft and glossy leaves, the arching canopies of perfect peaches above, each peach more blushing and beautiful than the next. It was odd in a way. I’ve been apple picking and to farms many times before, but there was something almost unearthly about being there. I could have meandered all day, unaware of the time or any other being around me, wandering from tree to tree as the perfume of the ripe fruit and rich earth enveloped me.

I did, however, have my daughter with me to bring me back to earth. She started strong, respected the trees, and knew to twist the fruit just slightly in order to pick it and not damage the branch. Mike tends toward the orange peaches and took his time filling the bag given by the farm with our tickets. I wasted no space for them in my bag, and waited patiently for us to reach the white peach grove just down the hill. I couldn’t fill the bag with enough, it seemed. In the end, I think Mike, my daughter and I ate her weight in peaches before riding back on the tractor-rig. The sticky, dribbling juice on our chins and collars was a dead giveaway.

Once home and out of “context,” what seemed like an OK amount of fruit in the orchard turned into four insurmountable mountains of peaches that consumed the kitchen counters. We gave some to all the grandparents, ate a few more after Saturday dinner, sliced some at breakfast on Sunday, but were still left with a ton of fruit.

“Make a pie already!”

I think Mike expected one to magically appear from my oven the second we arrived home on Saturday afternoon. Good things come to those who wait: it was a warm and juicy midnight snack on Sunday night when Mike came home from a late news shift.

The ripe peaches peeled perfectly. Use the same process as for peeling tomatoes: shallowly score the bottom with an “X” . Briefly plunge them into simmering water. Remove, cool momentarily and slide the skin off.

As outlined in Pie 101, I flavored this crust with some cinnamon, doused the peaches in honey-bourbon, added the requisite cup of solids and made a lattice top. Baked peaches can be even more flavorful and concentrated than they are eaten raw.

We still have a lot of peaches left. We have a tentative get-together planned later this week, and if it comes together I’ll do a sponge base drenched in Amaretto simple syrup, a vanilla bean pastry cream (or maybe I’ll simply flavor some Mascarpone cheese), and sliced peaches overlapped in a radiant sunburst. A garnish of toasted, slivered almonds is optional – I’ll see if the mood strikes me. There’s no hot oven heating the summer kitchen involved in that one, and the peaches are ripening and sweetening as I type. Imagine what they’ll be like by the weekend.

Waiting for the Rain

The rain was supposed to come on Sunday, so we headed out in the morning to check the beds and harvest what had grown while the weather was still dry.

Pay dirt!

The chard was tall, thick and plentiful – just look at the glossy green leaves on the white variety. The radicchio (the last two of four heads) was huge, with green outer leaves and large, burgundy spherical centers. I removed the outer leaves (they can be pretty bitter), but kept them to wilt on a hot grill, which mitigates the flavor. The lemon cucumbers are coming in nicely, adding to the Kirby cucumber haul. We’ve been picking both red and orange cherry tomatoes for weeks, which never make it to the table; they’re so sweet straight off the vine. But our first really large tomato (German Gold, a pale orange variety) came off the vine with ease on Sunday. We left her blushing sisters to ripen just a bit further. We’ve got both Rosa Bianca and slender white eggplants on their way, as well as three dark green acorn squashes (too early!) almost ready to be picked and vines full of tennis-ball sized babies that should ripen into a basketful come September.

But no zucchini. Or pattypan squash. Naturally, just as soon as I’d made the boast that I was giving away mountains of produce did nature strike me back for the brag.

Last Sunday, we experienced a long, torrential downpour with force so violent that the beds were severely beaten down and some structures blown over. We lost power into the night as well. After righting the tomato cages and pole bean obelisks when the rain let up, I surveyed the damage. The center bed consisting mainly of squash had really taken a hit.

“Oh, they’ll bounce back,” I told myself. “They always do.” By midweek, some leaves were back up and filling in, but not many. Yesterday, I really looked: the storm severed a lot of the rambling vines right off of their main stems. Whatever little orbs I had growing on the vines before the storm were hollow, soft or simply dead. The vines themselves are bleached and turning dry. The main stems are trying to send off new shoots – nature is amazing – so I’ll keep you up to date on their success.

This weekend’s rain never did come. I really need to water, not just to keep up production, but to nurture the squash bed back to health.

But for now, let’s break even on Eco-nomics – I knew the chard would put me over the top. To be honest, I more than broken even a while ago. I haven’t been keeping up on the harvest tally like last year, and beyond this date, I may not do it to the dollar. Oh, the garden is producing – don’t get me wrong, I’ve picked more salads than I care to calculate, not even tallying the first two heads of radicchio – but I think I’ll keep a roundabout running total offline and approximate at the end of the season. And anyway, my pricing is admittedly somewhat less than scientific this time around and as last year, a bit on the low side.

Triple bale of chard $5
Radicchio $5
3 lbs cukes @ $.99/lb $2.97
3+ lbs cherry & other tomatoes @ $1.29 $3.87
2 lbs purple and yellow beans @1.29 $2.58
From $6.86 in the red last time: Ahead by $12.56

Mâche Salad with Quail Eggs

You’re only as good as your ingredients.

Well, if the fresh-picked mâche I served last night together with soft-boiled quail eggs, fragrant blushing apricots, soft baby sage leaves, glossy thyme and you-could-cut-it-with-a-spoon pork tenderloin were any indication, then I was Thomas Keller.

I’d been dying to use the lamb’s ear lettuce that I allowed to grow into little poufy bouquets. When I stumbled upon a dozen-pack of quail eggs at the farmer’s market this weekend, I knew I had to get them. Paired with the mache, a sweet sherry-shallot vinaigrette and just the right amount of yolk-ooze for richness, it was divinity on earth. Plus, my daughter loved just peeling and eating the little taupe and brown speckled orbs.

Also at the farmer’s market I found not just apricots, but fresh, firm, fragrant blushing apricots, boxes upon boxes that someone was physically removing from a trolley and emptying into a bin. I halved them, added a very little drizzle of honey, fresh chopped thyme, a crack of black pepper and canola oil. The honey is optional, really, because the fruit will caramelize into its own glossy glaze on the grill. The apricots behaved perfectly: they kept their shape once cooked, and developed the most sensuous sheen and sweetly savory flavor. I topped them with a drizzle of fig balsamic vinegar upon serving, and ringed them around the pork tenderloin on the serving platter.

For the pork, I blended in a Ziploc bag at least 1/4 cup of honey, a good dose my husband’s Evan Williams Reserve Honey Bourbon, two large cloves of microplaned garlic, sea salt, ground pepper and chopped thyme. The honey helped create the most incredible crust, further enhanced by a final sprinkle of sea salt before serving. I put the tenderloin on a blazing hot grill, turned it only twice, and that was it. I grilled the apricots while the pork rested.

To round out the meal, I went with an old favorite: white potatoes and sweet potatoes tossed in my Sherry vinegar, shallot and sage dressing. They’re good hot, cold, room temperature and especially the day after. I believe I’ve written about them before.

This all sounds elaborate, but the integration of ingredients on hand and the thread of common herbs and flavors across each dish was both fluidly intuitive and deliciously complementary. Each element just made sense. And it was, honestly, all fairly quick. Only peeling the potatoes was somewhat time consuming. The rest was toss, grill, serve and – most importantly - enjoy.

Honestly, I picked up my daughter from camp and gave her a snack after arriving home at 4:00 p.m. We chatted, she wanted some TV, and out of nowhere it was suddenly 5:00. To the tunes of Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons Greatest Hits, I started by picking my herbs outside and had everything on the table at 6:00 on the dot. I was completely in the zone.

I feel guilty for admitting the ease, because it also felt so good to serve a special weekday meal like this for just the three of us.

Eco-Nomics
Mâche from the garden: $5 (easily. I can’t believe what a single miniature plastic shell of this costs at Fairway, if they have it.)
Still in the red by $6.86. So close and yet so far!

Stuffed Squash

Earlier than anticipated, I’m already giving away produce.

One eight-ball zucchini plant produced her first little squash well over two weeks ago and the rest of them, obviously jealous, have been pumping them out to keep up. I had forgotten how productive summer squash can be once you pick the first fruit. The pale, tender green variety has been the most productive, but the sunny yellow and dark green types are catching up.

Either way, those sweet little orbs have made their way to friends and family. In our household, they’ve been cut into sticks to dip in hummus, halved and grilled, sliced and steamed, and as of last night, stuffed.

I first prepared cous cous then blended in Greek gigante beans in a light tomato base with a touch of garlic. I cut the stem tops off the squashes, hollowed out the inside, the slicked them (inside & out) with a little olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper. I quickly grilled them to blister the outsides and lightly sweeten the flavor while keeping the squash still firm. Once removed from the grill, I spooned in the cous cous mixture, topped them all with a final crunch of sea salt and a drizzle of olive oil, then served them with roasted red and yellow peppers fresh from the grill, which my husband chopped roughly and used as a garnish.

Squash aside, we’ve also harvested two pounds of wax beans and easily two pounds of Kirby cucumbers. Those barely make it to the table or into salads, as they’re just so crisp and delicious eaten whole while sitting on the patio, straight off the vine.

2 lbs wax beans @ $1.29 / $2.58
2 lbs cukes @ $.99 / $1.98
Conservatively, 5 lbs zucchini @ $.99 / $4.95
Many Salads of green & red looseleaf lettuce $2
Harvested: $11.51
Offsetting last “in the red” total of $23.37:
Still in the red by $11.86, but quickly closing the gap.