My Favorite Whole Foods

Today I am going to review my favorite Whole Foods grocery store. There is a Whole Foods in the Denver Cherry Creek neighborhood in which produce stands miles high in a geometric maze of promises to fit any style of shopper: bargain hunters, tropical fruit hunters, the truly serious about combining vegetables to make yet unnamed yet inventive dishes for themselves and friends. Next to the produce floor, is the seafood counter which is just as effusive. There are not only shellfish, but shellfish of different sizes arranged 1, 2, 3 in ascending order of size. The colors of the seafood are enough to weep to, or have fantasies about. The seafood deptartment at the Cherry Creek Whole Foods was probably created by the devil, it is so tempting.

My favorite Whole Foods is further South. The produce department is a lot smaller. They have most of the same stuff, but it's easier to navigate because the piles of veggies and fruits are less tall, so I don't feel like I'm at the gap among many styles. The best part about my favorite whole foods is the service. Once I asked someone for a good dessert idea. I talked about my dietary needs. She came up with a certain cheese (I forget but I have it), jabenero raspberry jelly and a thin wafer. Divine. Also, I've shared recipes with people who are working there. I like to make a rice dish with dried fruit, parsley, rice and orange rind. Through a conversation I shared that recipe. Another recipe I shared for was for potatoes, tomotatoes, thai basil and butter. Thinking about pride in our culture, and respective shared cultures, I find that I value this Whole Foods because of the opportunity I get that I really hadn't noticed before to connect with people even if it is just someone I am shopping with.

Confused Artichoke

The title of my blog comes from a Pablo Neruda poem called Ode to the Artichoke. It is about an artichoke, who is growing in the garden with his little scales, and is very serious compared to the other vegetables. He keeps with his scales, and has a very serious dome configuration, while on the other hand the carrots are growing moustaches, the cauliflower is trying out skirts, and the oregano wants to perfume the entire world.

Then the artichoke gets taken to market, and in the wicker baskets, he realizes his dream is to be in the army, to go to war. Men take the baskets off the trucks with a crash and dust jumping up when they drop them down on the dirt road, and he realizes his dream is being realized.

Then a woman comes to the market, holds him up and buys him. She puts him in her bag with some flip flops she has just bought, a bottle of vinegar and a cabbage. So it isn't so much that he is confused about himself; but that others, or at least this lady, confuse who he is.
The woman and her husband who eat him call him the peaceful pasta with a green heart.

I chose this poem to be the beginning of my blog, because the way Pablo Neruda describes the vegetables, and the road to the market, and the woman at the market are all images that surpass any in poems I knew before I read this one.