Saturday is market day. During the week, I walk to our local mercado, which is a block and a half away, but I call a taxi to go to the supermarket. By the time I take the elevator down, it's a short wait until the taxi arrives. Today as I approached the car, I realized the driver was arranging the front seat for me. I didn't recognize him, but obviously he'd driven me before because he knew that I prefer to ride in front.
He knew that I was going to the Superama, which is on the same corner as his taxi stand. But I asked him to wait while I made a stop at the tianguis de sábado (Saturday's Open Air Market) to make one quick purchase. Reed and I are enjoying amaranth granola laden with raisins, seeds, nuts and a little shredded coconut. Slightly sweetened with natural sugarcane, it is incredibly healthy and considerably less expensive than commercial cereals. Served with sliced banana and almond milk, it's good. Served with applesauce, it's great, but served with nothing more than puree of an insanely ripe papaya (my favorite), it's a real breakfast treat.
How is it sold? In bulk from a street stall run by a friendly husband-wife team who make it up from their own family recipe. I tell them how much I want, and they scoop it out from a plastic bag.
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| "Granola" puesto at Saturday's Open Air Market: Mother-in-law uses green scoop to measure out my order of "tres cuartos" of a kilo (1.5 pound) of granola. The husband looks up from making change, as his daughter peeks curiously to see what I'm doing. |
Somehow we seem to establish relationships with the shopkeepers we buy from. It seems to be a tradition. I treasure the description a Mexican friend sent to me of her memories of Saturday Bazar in Mexico City.
It's hard for me to believe, but the couple remembered that we'd been 'away' and asked how our grandchildren are. Teasing and joking is an integral part of the experience of shopping in Mexico.
My day was pretty much made when a middle-aged Mexican woman asked me what I was buying. As soon as I replied, "Granola de amaranto....", her husband began making soft sounds of approval. Music to my ears.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that the same stall also offers several varieties of beans—black beans, flor de mayo (mayflower beans), and Peruvian beans; plump, soft raisins and craisins; almonds, pecans; and even rice. All are displayed in bulk. Desired amounts are scooped out, placed in a small plastic bag and weighed.
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| Orange tubs center front hold the mole purchased by most Mexican cooks—way too many ingredients and too time-consuming for anyone to attempt today. Grains of all kinds, nuts, seeds— products in bulk I can't identify. |
Oh, and I can't forget to mention that they also sell a chocolate mole that is out of this world. They offer two versions: one quite spicy; the other, fortunately for us, less so. The mole is also supplied in bulk, so the amount desired by each customer is scooped into a plastic bag and weighed. I buy by weight, x-grams, but many Mexican shoppers buy by the peso, say, 25 pesos of mole ($1.90 USD).
Purchases made, it's back to my waiting taxi and on to Superama. The driver and I bid a friendly farewell, and I walk into the supermarket. I guess now's the time to confess that Superama is a Walmart store. Let me hasten to add that more than one expat has confided to me, "I would never step into a Walmart in the U.S., but it really comes in handy here."
Superama imports products, not just from the U.S. (such as A1 Sauce and Pepperidge Farm's Dark Pumpernickel bread), but also from Europe—especially Spain. Those imports have started tasting pretty darned good after years away from the familiar tastes of ingredients from our homeland. Superama also has a terrific fish department, where I buy salmon, tilapia and shrimp.
While we were in Chicago, I went to the supermarket to pick up a few items. Talk about reverse culture shock!
- First, Jewel-Osco Supermarkets in Chicago are HUGE;
- Second, the number of brands of basically the same product is overwhelming. I became so confused in the cereal aisle that I nearly found myself unable to decide;
- Third, U.S. supermarkets are designed to optimize the exchange of goods for money. Human conversation is not efficient, so it is kept to a minimum. Ideally, it is non-existent. The epitome of anonymous efficiency and effectiveness is the self-service check-out line!
- Fourth, shelves are mostly stocked and the store cleaned at night or in the early-morning hours, which means that shoppers have more or less free rein of the store.
That's not how it works in Mexico, where mercado—buying and selling—is a cultural tradition that long predates the arrival of the Spanish. Somehow the process is highly personal. Who would believe that I would come to prefer the frijoles negros [black beans] sold in one tienda (shop) in our local mercado, or believe that the queso de rancho (a semi-hard cheese that's a delicious addition to a sandwich when softened on the grill) from the same tienda is far superior to all others?
I thought of this as I walked through the bakery department at Superama using tongs to select chapatas and bolillos and put them on the circular metal tray I carried for this purpose. The next step is waiting in line for the bakery clerk to weigh, bag and attach a price sticker.
The woman in front of me had selected a couple of donuts, which the clerk wrapped in a small waxed sheet before bagging them. She had run out of the sheets normally used, so she took a plastic bag, scored it with a pair of tongs, pulled to separate the two pieces—voilá, she had what she needed.
"Muy ingenio, ingenious" I remarked admiringly. Then, when she looked up and smiled slightly to acknowledge the compliment, I added, "in my country we have a saying, es la madre de la invención—'necessity is the mother of invention'."She did a slight double-take, and I could practically see the light bulb go on as understanding dawned. She rewarded me with an even warmer smile. México.
Even in a Walmart supermarket, shopping in Mexico is just plain different. For one thing, not only are the shelves stocked, but the store is also cleaned during the day. This makes for interesting moments as we customers make our way around stock clerks with their cartons of product and dodging the floor sweeper's broom.
For another, I have no idea what the Superama's order-delivery process actually is, but as a customer, I can verify that it is impossible to predict what's going to be on the shelves on any given day. So much for Reed's carefully calibrated grocery list with its assumption of efficient product selection from a store whose shelves are always fully stocked!
Instead, I keep at the back of my mind a kind of Master Grocery List and surf the aisles checking to see what's available today, what's come in that wasn't there last week...or last month. At the moment, I'm waiting for A1 Sauce to reappear. It will...eventually, just as the organic amaranth bars suddenly re-appeared after a three-week hiatus. It's a bit difficult to explain the rather irrational pleasure I get when a long-awaited item finally appears. Victory!
There is one other difference. Products are moved around almost constantly, so locating desired items becomes somewhat of a challenge. I can't tell you how pleased I am when I come upon a Mexican shopper who seems to be feeling just about as frustrated as I feel...our sisterly commiseration brightens the day.
Groceries finally paid for and packed, I make my way to the taxi stand for the ride home. The young woman who dispatches taxis greets me with a warm, "Buenas tardes, good afternoon", and the driver of the taxi at the head of the line also cleared the front seat and pushed it back.
Jokingly, I acknowledge his effort on my behalf, "Discúlpe la molestia, 'scuse the bother...for having to re-arrange your office, your dining room and, occasionally, your bedroom" (the drivers work 10-12 hour days, which some break up by parking on a quiet side street, reclining their seat and taking an afternoon siesta). Predictably, the latter reference brings a comradely chuckle.
As we set off, he initiated conversation with a smile and a cheery "¿Cómo estamos? How are we?" After he confirmed our destination, "¿Calle Dakota? Dakota Street?", we chatted comfortably about the weather and life in general. It's taken two years, but many of the drivers at that taxi stand now know who I am. It feels good.
As I mentioned, we also shop at the neighborhood Mercado Churubusco, just a block and a half from our building. Interestingly, the longer we live here, the more I buy at our local Mercado and at Saturday's Open-Air market and the less I buy at Superama, but there's a glitch.
Reed and I spend our mornings translating for the Mexico Voices Blog, so it's often 3:00 or 4:00 PM before I can get to the market. By then, the polleria, chicken vendor, is out of chicken breasts. He has given me his card and told me he'll not only deliver chicken breasts, but buy and deliver fruits and vegetables as well, but I've been dragging my feet at making the effort to make that first phone call.
It's not easy to establish a new business relationship in Spanish over the telephone. But the other day it was almost 5:00 PM before I could get to the market. Predictably, he was out of chicken breasts, so today I asked Reed if he'd go buy chicken and confirm that I had the correct business card. It's a good thing I did, because it was the wrong card. So poco a poco, little by little, we're establishing a network of trusted and trusting shopkeepers.
Here we are, living in one of the world's most populous cosmopolitan cities, but our little neighborhood feels more like the Upper West Side of New York City, where for a decade we lived and shopped at the fruit and vegetable stands run in the 1970's-1980's by Koreans.
When we took friends who are very well-traveled in China to the mercado in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, their response was a delighted, "It's just like markets in China." And my sister who lives in San Francisco observed, "It's just like the Farmers Market in the Old Ferry Building."
There is something that feels quite positive—even hopeful—about making these kinds of connections. Needless to say, it also feels pretty darned good!
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