Food, glorious food

A British grocery store (“supermarket”) is my happy place. I can wander the aisles in a daze for hours. At home in Seattle, grocery shopping is a chore. In Scotland, it’s an adventure- an escape- a wonderland. If I’m in a bad mood, nothing cheers me up more than a meandering browse.

We live in the heart of town, so I do much of my shopping at the local butcher, baker, candlestick maker, etc. But for bigger shops, I go to a Big Store, usually Waitrose or Sainsbury’s or Marks & Spencer. Each one has its charms. Every time I go, I find utterly enchanting things that I can’t get in the States. When I was a visitor here, I could only lust after them- but now I can take them home to eat 😊

Some of the wonderland effect is nostalgia for my childhood trips to the store here with my gram, where she’d always let me buy crumpets and try a different packet of hot chocolate or crazy flavo(u!)r of potato chips (‘crisps’), which are worth their own post. 🤯

Some differences:

Generally, everything is in smaller packages with short sell-by dates- people have tiny fridges and shop more often. Some things are more expensive here (ham, pet food, Saran Wrap (‘cling film’), while others cost less (prosciutto, cheese, smoked salmon). There are far more ‘ready-meals’- whole aisles of entrees and sides ready to heat up- a working parent or retiree’s dream. Orange juice is not defined by its ‘pulp’ but by its ‘juicy bits’ (yes, go ahead and snicker 🤭). All the cuts of meat have different names than in the U.S. You bag your own groceries (yes, even before Covid). It’s far easier to have groceries delivered here than at home- but then, why deprive myself of a walk down the aisles?! I never know what I might find.

I try to bring home something new every time. This week it was frozen gooseberries and mushroom pate. I was also thrilled to discover frozen chopped shallots (duh!), lemon roulade, rhubarb gin cocktails in tiny cans, gluten-free stroopwafels, and malt whisky marmalade.

To be fair, there are plenty of things I can’t find here that I’m missing from home. Gluten-free pretzels. Root beer. Italian sausage. Sugar cereal. Maple everything (it’s my favo(u!)rite flavo(u!)r of all time). And the lack of milk options is surprising (there’s gotta be a strong British dairy farmer lobby).

But it’s still a wonderland. There are a dozen varieties of cured meats and ready-made appetizers, a dizzying array of tea (good since I drink my weight every day), and the confectionery aisle… bestill my heart. Lemon slices and Empire biscuits and Battenberg cakes and tiny iced mince pies… I’ve never been so cross that I can’t eat gluten. (To be fair, though, it’s generally far easier to be GF here. The GF bread is normal size, every restaurant has options, and I can actually eat almost anything from a French bakery- but that’s another post 🥐).

The British love to bake. There are more varieties of sugar in an aisle here than I ever thought possible, and dozens of every form of ingredient: dried fruits, fillings, flavo(u!)rings, perfect wee toppings (see the adorableness I found for my carrot cake), sugar crystal sprinkles in every shape and colo(u!)r. There is also a whole aisle of ready-made desserts (‘puddings’), many of them tiny chilled 4-packs of mousses and custards in fabulous flavours.… perfect for bribing my child to practi(s!)e piano.

Interestingly, British eggs are stored out on the shelves at room temperature. I got curious about this and discovered that it’s all about salmonella. Here they vaccinate their hens against it, so they don’t have to wash the eggs at collection. The US doesn’t mandate vaccination, so eggs are washed instead, removing a thin layer that protects the egg from bacteria and subsequently requiring refrigeration. You see farm-fresh eggs (by the half-dozen) on every shop counter in town here, from bookstores to charity shops to cafes. And they’re amazing- rich, velvety deep orange yolks, and a perfectly believable size (some in the US look like Jack brought them down the beanstalk from the giants’ hen!).

About beer… which is a rare treat for me, because gluten. I love malty beer- not a big fan of hops. In the US I prefer brown ales or porters- stouts if I’m desperate. They’re hard to find in the summer, though, and D (with his love of IPA) always seems to have more choices. Here, though, the tables are turned, and every store stocks a plethora of Scotch ales, which are right up my alley. They mostly come in individual bottles rather than 6-packs, so I try a different one every time we go.

I’ll end with a poem I wrote when I was in 5th grade (A’s age!)- I often recite it to her while she stuffs her face with a gluten-free crumpet for breakfast. Because of course, I let her. Gluttony must run in the family. 😊

Grandmother’s crumpets are oh, so good

I’d eat them for breakfast if I could

Dripping with butter and strawberry jam

Into my mouth I hastily cram.

Go explore your own grocery store like a tourist, and see if you can find something surprising. The comment box is open!