Adventures with Mac: or shopping with the inept.

At work today, I decided to make a quiche for dinner tonight. I’ve made quiche before. They’re really quite simple to make and I think they’re delicious. I can ignore the old wives tale that real men don’t eat quiche. Actually, I don’t care what real men eat; it’s probably better I don’t know.

We have a little bit of bacon to use up, eggs, milk and most of the other goodies, but I was going to have to stop by Safeway to get some more veggies and pie crusts. (Yes, my secret to good quiche includes store-bought pie crust as opposed to the leathery crap that I toss together at home and end up throwing in the garbage deciding it is wiser to go to bed hungry rather than deal with the nightmare of trying to mold the hard, viscous substance that I have created into a pie pan. But let’s talk about that later.)

I enter Safeway, cocky and sure. I know where almost everything I want is located. I grab a hand basket and strut to the produce section. I walk straight to the mushrooms. Or let me rephrase that I bit more precisely; I walk straight to where the mushrooms used to be. But 'used to be's' don't count anymore. Instead I find cabbage, fine looking cabbage. I pick up a head. Unsure of how it would fit into my next few days’ eating habits, I set it back down. Okay, it’s a small area to cover, I’m fine, no panic. I nonchalantly stroll through the produce section. I spy broccoli! Yes! Victory is mine. One down. And there to my left are the prettiest lemons you have ever seen. I pick one up and fondle it. It is a fine lemon. I put it in my basket. He looks so lonely in there with the broccoli. He doesn’t speak broccolese. He has no one to talk to. (Broccoli aren’t known for being heavy chatters, anyway.) So I pick up another lemon and set it next to its brother. They both smile at me. I know I have done good.

I’m not having much luck with the leeks. So I set my basket down and close my eyes. I try to think like a leek. Where would I be if I were a leek? In my leek-like mode, I picture myself lying on a beach in the south of France. I am in my happy spot, when I jerked back to reality by a caring, “Hey, Mac, you okay?”

It’s my friend, John. I was in the process of explaining to him that I was trying to think like a leek so I could find the leeks when he said, “Dude, look straight ahead.” I did and damn, there were the leeks. Under different circumstance, I would have dropped to my knees and praised the goddess of the harvest for bringing the leeks to me, but John already thinks I’m a bit odd, so I decided to save that ritual for later, in the privacy of my own home. Two down. John and I bid a fond adieu and I continue the hunt for mushrooms.

Many of you know that mushrooms are known to be elusive and can don cleaver disguises. But I am way too quick for them today. I check my shopping list again and say out loud, “Now I need to find the jicama.” And there, immediately to my right was the largest pile of mushrooms you have ever seen. I chuckled to myself as I picked out the finest specimens. Those fungi are so easily fooled. Three down. Odd though, I never saw a jicama after that moment.

I’m off to find the store-bought pie crusts. And there is my other friend, Delia. You all know Delia. Come on, you know, the woman who moved to town a few years ago after receiving Bon Appétit’s Culinary Artist of the Year award for the previous 12 years. The woman who said the only person who was truly attuned enough to appreciate her omnipotent ability was Jackie O. Yeah, that Delia.

Delia is the one you would ask if you wanted to know where Safeway stocked the Fleur de Sel de Camargue. She is not the one I am going to ask if she knows where the store-bought pie crusts are kept. We make small talk. I know Delia is checking out my basket. People, minds out of the gutter, I mean my shopping basket.

“And what is for dinner tonight, my friend,” she pried.

“Oh, I’m just planning a simple quiche. I was wandering over to the wine section to find something that catches my fancy as an accompaniment.”

Delia immediately chimed in, “You MUST get the Zeiderbrűgen Riesling. It is to die for; it’s at the north end of the main island.”

Delia was, of course, in reference to the section where wines are under lock and key. There is bullet-proof glass covering the bottles, padlocks, alarms and an armed guard. It’s not where I shop for wine. I thanked Delia for her suggestion. We parted company smiling.

I strolled to the wine aisle. I glanced at the north end of the main aisle. There was a bottle of Zeiderbrűgen Riesling, shining brightly out from its prison. I checked the bottle color, size and shape, but I was brief so as not to bring much attention from the guard. Then I went to the “specials” section, found a bottle that looked similar and slipped it into my basket, label down. Delia could be lurking anywhere.

So, I am back in search of store-bought pie crust. I have just cruised through the store for the third time, when I decided to ask the next employee I saw where the store-bought pie crust might be located. At that very moment, there came an announcement over the loudspeaker. “All employees to cashier positions, please. I repeat, all employees to cashier positions.” All employees ran to the front of the store like they were crusaders attacking Constantinople. It was a little eerie. I was alone in my search.

It only took a few minutes before I found the store-bought pie crust. I happily put it in my basket (under the bottle of wine – you never know about Delia), and made my way to check out. Whatever the crisis was, was over. I paid and left.

Yes, it was a boring shopping trip. There were no emergency vehicles, confetti or throwing marshmallows at the Madoff’s involved. Yep, my life really is that mundane.

Long story short: shopping for four items took over 45 minutes because I couldn’t find anything and I ran into a couple of friends. Any of the other details that you found interesting or amuzing are purely fictional.