The joy of (food) shopping

November 11, 8:16 AMBaltimore Food ExaminerKit Pollard

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Cross Street Market - the part where nobody drinks. By Kit Pollard. 

As far as I can tell, there are two kinds of party lovers. The kind who love the party, and the kind who also love the time before the party. Paris Hilton is the first kind. Martha Stewart's the second.

I'm hardly a Martha - as much as I love a good thing, I also lack patience.  I really do enjoy the time leading up to a party - menu planning, list making (and re-making), and going shopping for the food.

When I was little, I spent a lot of time at the grocery store with my mother. Of course, grocery stores in the early 80's weren't the sensory explosions they are today. The Severna Park Safeway was clean, but boring.

I didn't have my real first food shopping experience until much later. One summer home from college, my friend Alison decided to cook dinner for our little group of friends. She took me to Fresh Fields (now Whole Foods) with her to shop. I was amazed.

Totally out of my element, I followed her around, pushing the cart like an excited five-year-old, while she gave me a tour of the store. Taking in all the colors and interesting foods, I'm sure my mouth was hanging open. 

Outdoor market in Stockholm, Sweden, May 2001. By Kit Pollard. 

Today, I can't get enough of the grocery store. Or, more accurately, grocery stores. While I rarely visit Whole Foods anymore (too expensive), I do go to Trader Joe's nearly every day (it's so cheap and so good!), and try to visit Belvedere Square and the farmers' markets as often as I can.

I also find myself seeking out markets when I travel. Something about the bustle of commerce and the cool, exotic look of foreign food makes me feel like I'm going native.

Like most girls, I'm a sucker for a shoe store or something sparkly. But (lucky for my husband), I get nearly the same rush of excitement and pleasure when I see a basket of multicolored heirloom tomatoes, or some really beautiful tropical fruit. Markets are my Neiman's. Well, no, that's not quite true. Neiman's is my Neiman's. But a great farmer's market is pretty close.