This weekend, in preparation for hosting friends for dinner, I visited five different stores, spending the better chunk of Saturday afternoon strolling from shop to shop in the rain.
Fresh Direct trucks are ubiquitous in our Brooklyn neighborhood, so it would be easy to avoid running these errands.
But for me, the most efficient choice isn’t the best choice.
I enjoy chatting with the crew at our nearby wine shop, people watching as I wait my turn to buy bulk olives and dried fruit at our Middle Eastern grocery store, checking out what’s happening in the neighborhood on the longish walk to the Italian deli.
When we lived in Michigan, grocery shopping was mostly a grudge activity. If that were still the case, I might jump at the chance to order food online and have it delivered, cutting out the slog down immense aisles and the tedious wait at the cash register.
But now that we buy most of our food from small, independent shops and farm vendors, shopping is part of what makes me feel connected to our neighborhood. It’s not a task to be eliminated, but something I enjoy.
I suppose that’s like friends of ours who enjoy making homemade pasta — these days it’s easy to buy good pasta at a reasonable price, but they aren’t looking for the fastest way to get pasta, they’re enjoying both the process and the outcome.
What do you do that’s the intentionally inefficient choice?