Hi Everyone!
I am about to revolutionize the blog. Today is the day that I will allow the first guest blog on the site. Not everyone is granted this privilege, only those that are big fans. Really the only people I would allow to guest blog I can count on one hand. One of them is Brian. He loves Whole Foods and I guess one opened near his town on LI. You will read the post and see he is a much better writer than I am. See his post below to learn about the opening of a mege food chain in a suburb.
As they mobbed Long Island’s third Whole Foods Market on Wednesday, in Lake Grove, patrons complained they had waited years – years, they emphasized with an eye-popping exasperation that suggested suffering – for a neighborhood Whole Foods. I only waited months (I lived in communities with Whole Foods nearby) but I was probably more impatient than most of my Long Island neighbors.
The metaphor is a simple one: Whole Foods is like a Porsche. Once you’ve grown accustomed to it, it’s tough to stomach a Civic, no matter its dependability and superior efficiency. It’s a lifestyle choice – and, for many, a consciously political one.
At Whole Foods, the fruits dazzle and burst with savory tang. The veggies are riper, the meats firmer, the cheeses fleshier, the gelato creamier – a seductively choreographed cornucopia basking under soft lights that, with its lime green finish and wood flourishes, evokes a rustic farmer’s market. And there’s quinoa tossed with seemingly every vegetable sold.
King Arthur didn’t have it this good.
Yet, in the weeks leading up to Wednesday opening, I couldn’t gauge how receptive locals would be to it. I knew it would generate some enthusiasm – another local upscale grocery, Wild By Nature in East Setauket, has been around for more than a decade and an Italian-themed grocery in Smithtown, Uncle Giuseppe’s Marketplace, is popular – but it seemed as if Whole Foods hadn’t reached anything close to critical mass. Among my friends, I was the only one talking about it. Whenever I mentioned its impending arrival at the abutting gym, LA Fitness, people shrugged.
Was I the only one who viewed Whole Foods’ dawdling construction as striptease?
I also wondered whether Whole Food Market’s reputation, perhaps the sturdiest among national brands in the eyes of liberal-elites, had slipped. It wasn’t a baseless question.
Some liberals in urban environs (Berkeley, Austin, et al) – the bedrock of Whole Foods’ base – boycotted the company last summer, after CEO John Mackey opined in the Wall Street Journal that while healthcare reform is “clearly needed,” America shouldn’t add another entitlement to its increasingly vulnerable balance sheet. And in recent months, its seeming grocery opposite, Wal-Mart, has emerged as such a threat to Whole Foods’ domination of organic foods that chefs, nutritionists and elitists often selected Wal-Mart’s offerings when presented a blind taste test by The Atlantic.
But even with a final Congressional vote on healthcare days away, it was evident Wednesday that animosity toward Mackey in these parts was fleeting or forgiven. Or the appeal of organics and status won out. Maybe all of the above.
Indeed, thousands jammed the Lake Grove Whole Foods within hours of an opening – on a workday, no less – marked by a drum procession and the literal breaking of bread Wednesday. (No rabbi or minion presided over the ceremony).
Once inside, customers were mesmerized by the seeming wonderfulness of the so-called Super Green Food Drink, a smooth concoction of grass, acai and goji – the latest fads in produce – plus apple, until the tasty drink splattered out from the juicer it was held in. This pattern continued into the afternoon.
One woman, impressed that the drink didn’t actually taste like grass (that’s the problem with wheatgrass: it tastes exactly like you’d expect grass to taste), asked aloud how much a modest bottles goes for. I volunteered that it costs $13.99, prompting her friend to offer the obvious refrain: “Ya see? Whole Foods is Whole Paycheck.”
Other sample items produced less drama, just anticipation.
A seared catfish and veal teriyaki (“humanely handled in Upstate New York,” the cook preemptively told one and all) proved especially popular, but were bested by a ginger Miso dressing to dip carrots in. A 70-something woman and her middle-age daughter boasted the versatility of the Miso dressing, leading to this excited exchange:
Mother: “It can go on salads!”
Daughter: “On wraps!”
Mother: “Pasta, too! Like, whoa!”
I hope that’s the last Joey Lawrence reference I hear at a Whole Foods.
Nearby, a woman who just completed yoga class (and smelled like she had) sampled a Jade Cloud tea. “Pure,” she said before a nodding, surprisingly unaware crowd of tasters. (Doesn’t Whole Foods generally cater to the most self-aware of crowds?)
A 16-month-old who wanted no part of shopping found Whole Foods’ samples a shocking and exultant bounty, particularly the oil-dipped mozzarella ball that he chowed down. Hard to blame the kid – it was damn tasty.
I was partial to local samples. Whole Foods famously promotes – or preaches, depending on your view – causes, including buy local. (This, of course, generally pertains to produce). Fire Island Beer Co.’s IPA reminded me of the one Stone Brewery out of Escondido, Calif. makes, which is one of my favorites. And Fat Boy’s Outrageous Cookie Dough didn’t do its name a disservice. The chocolate chunk was delicious; the white chocolate macadamia was indeed outrageous, and worth the five-minute wait.
Some complaints:
- Only turkey pastrami is available, not Whole Foods’ delicious (and admittedly fatty) beef pastrami. I’m baffled as to why Whole Foods either overlooked selling beef pastrami at most, if not all, of its locations in the Greater New York Area or opted against selling the meat in a region that boasts the densest Jewish community in the country – a people widely known for loving pastrami.
- Limited Japanese options. Yes, they sell fresh sushi – I sampled a tuna and avocado roll Wednesday – and a pedestrian Miso Soup, but like the other two Whole Foods on Long Island, there isn’t a station for making chicken, salmon or unagi teriyaki bowls or more fulfilling soups, such as udon or soba. (But this disappointment is tempered by a smorgasbord of other soups, including faves Curried Apple Pumpkin and Truffles Creamy Wild Mushroom).
Then there’s the crush of people crammed into 16 busy checkout lanes, all of which were open. An impatient young woman named Regina complained: “I hate this store right about now. Maybe the novelty will wear off in a week.”
Several customers within earshot shot back disgusted looks.
“Okay,” Regina allowed, “Maybe two.
