I visited the local “grocery store” the other day, which is really nothing more than a gussied-up Kwikee Mart, but is conveniently close, and so is acceptable for those quick emergency trips, as when I commit the unforgivable sin of allowing my beer reserve to dip below a six-pack. (If you’ve ever seen a grown man in the grips of a full-blown panic attack, you know it’s not a pretty sight.)
While strolling down the pasta aisle, I came upon this display:
Above: Nice to see the store catering to the neighborhood Lilliputians.
Just to be clear: Those are NOT giant packages of noodles. Those are miniature one-serving colanders. Now believe me, I’m appreciative of the fact that the food industry creates different sizes of packaging, so that those of us bereft of human companionship don’t have to buy more than we really need. Avoiding spoilage is just common sense, and really a responsibility of those of us in that situation as planet citizens. I be all down wit dat, as the kids say.
But a single-serving colander? WTF? They don’t cost less than standard sized colanders, and I certainly can’t imagine a kitchen so cramped for shelf space that the actual storage volume advantage would be a considered factor in any colander purchase decision process. I think the only explanation is that the local “grocery store” is going out of its way to tell us solo passengers that, on our little ride through life, we’ll nevah EVAH find ourselves in a situation requiring preparation of a meal for two.
Well, I, for one, refuse to accept that (it would, of course, be difficult for me to refuse to accept it as more than one ... that's the whole point here). After a brief and calm explanation of my feelings on the matter directed at the checkout girl, who I don’t think was really listening, because she kept gesturing wildly toward the store manager and screaming “CALL 911!” over and over again, I drove to WINCO and purchased the largest colander they had. And while I may not soon, or even ever, have a need to prepare more than one place setting for an evening's dining, I am ready should that time ever arrive. I urge those of you in a similar situation to do as I have done, and reject the oppressive message that the food preparation industry is trying to force upon us. Go! Go buy that colossal colander, the super-siziest sieve you can find! We will stand united in our loneliness (well, metaphorically, of course, because, by definition, we’re not united, duh …) against the cold-hearted monsters who would see us broken had they their way.
In the meantime, the devil dog seems to be developing an Italian accent in her barks. Must be something in her diet.
3 months ago