While grocery shopping might not be classified as recreational or leisure, every Friday evening, after work, with an gleeful state of mind, I head over to the Trader Joe's, armed with an orange plastic basket, and begin selecting, with my present state of economic sovereignty, the nutritional intake for next week's worth. To be single and poor and an unwillingness to cook, for the past 12 months, I have learned that eating healthy might not be such an easy task. Back at home, with mom deciding what food should grace my stomach, I need not to worry so much about eating healthy. Not that I am a health-conscious freak, but there comes a time when one is tired of buying takeout at either fast food chains or Chinese restaurants or Japanese supermarket bento.

The traffic is light this Friday evening. The sky clean and crisp as ever, and darkness soon descending. Slowly, motorists turn on their night lights. I turn on Marketplace at 6:30 p.m. sharp, as the radio program is devoting a whole week's coverage on China. The calm voice of Kai Ryssdal, together with sound bites of various Chinese interviewee, spoken in different dialect of Chinese, shortened the drive considerably.

The name Trader Joe's invokes an image of mom-and-pop grocer. In many aspects, the store resembles one, despite it being a chain of several hundreds. Compare it to other conventional grocery stores, Trader Joe's is much smaller in sizes and a fraction of king-sized Wal-Mart and Costco. Its offers, while limited due to its size, are more focused, such as organic (or non) vegetables and fruits and cheeses. I went ahead and picked up some baby carrots and spinach salad, paired with a triple cream brie and a roll of baguette. There is nothing I love more than brie and baguette. I also love the little recommendation stickers placed throughout the store because they are mostly hand-written.

While passing the sweets section, I purposely looked away, passing by in resignation. I had the urge to take home the small whole cheesecake sitting coolly in the refrigerator, waving its sweet indulgence at my lack of self-control. I stood in stupefaction, and a glimmer flashed across my eyes at the sight of that sweet love. Eventually -- thankfully -- I thought better of it and pass up the opportunity to satisfy my sugar craving. My promise in grade school that I will eat whatever sweet products I crave when I grow up will probably not be fulfilled any time soon.

What follows one indulgence is another. In a few steps of trekking is the wine section. It is often that I spend a good 20 minutes looking over the small but eclectic wine selection, not to mention its affordability. I scoured through the big barrier of two-buck chuck (the $1.99 Charles Shaw brand proclaiming itself as from Napa) and Yellow Tail, and landed in search of the newer arrival from Bordeaux and Rhone and Spain. The prospect of drinking myself stupid over the weekend is very alluring. I got an $8.99 bottle from Rhone, thinking it might be great with my frozen veggie pizza. And just before concluding this shopping trip, a tea tree oil soup and a tin of Altoids found the way into my basket. At the checkout counter, I was greeted with a warm smile; and in return, when the final total price was flashed across the computer screen, I flashed a suppressed smirk back to the cashier: it feels great to shop cheaply and not feel guilty.



P.S. The above images are BORROWED from Google Image search. I don't have the thick leather skin to take my bulky Canon and start filming cheese and vegetable. So thank you, anonymous photo providers.