When my refrigerator broke down recently, I got a glimpse of what a more full immersion of my romantic version of shopping, eating and keeping food would be like. A hastily purchased plastic cooler and a several blocks of ice became my refrigerator for the better part of a week. It basically had just enough room for a small container of milk for my morning tea, a jar of Best Food's Mayo and a few slices of cheese. And some eggs. It was a challenge, true, but not an impossible one.
In fact, I rather enjoyed my temporary European/urban lifestyle. While in some ways it was inconvenient, in many ways it did me good. Walking to the crappy bodega a few blocks from my home got me some much needed exercise, for instance, and helped morph my opinion of it from crappy to semi-crappy. I ate deep into my pantry's back shelves, got creative with jars of artichokes and cans of roasted tomatoes, rediscovered the joys of a vegan stir fry.
I often wonder about the seduction of convenience, how we are drawn to its charms and promises but end up handing over more in the exchange than we realize. We often give convenience the highest priority without examining what we really want and need our lives to be. We assume that inconvenience is a negative aspect but in fact it's just a state of mind, based on our priorities. If fresh produce and good exercise are a priority, then a walk to the grocery store several times a week is not inconvenient, it's a pleasure.
My now enormous seeming refrigerator is back in service. I surprised myself a little by not rushing out to my favorite grocery store* to stock it to its usual levels. And while I'm not going to shop everyday (I seriously just can't), I kind of wish I could. I don't want to give up this glimpse into what for me is a more sane and balanced way to live my life. I'll be moving soon and top priority, over many other conveniences, will be finding a place within walking distance of a good grocery store. I may not be in Paris, but I can sure act like I am!
*Berkeley Bowl, if you must know.
(Image: Faith Durand)