A petite Asian woman in a motorized
scooter wheeled up to me in the wine department at TJ's and asked if
I could help her. I thought she needed a bottle reached down from a
shelf. But she wanted to know if I could recommend a wine to go with
pasta – no, in a pasta dish
she was making. “Does it call for a particular type of wine, a
red... or a white?” No, she insisted, just a dry wine.
“What's the recipe like? What else goes in the pasta?” Clams and
linguine. Yay, bingo. “Usually,” I opined, that's made with white
wine.” Oh, she added, and to drink with it, too. So we turned to
the European whites and my eyes lit on a Muscadet, and that's what I
recommended. I put a bottle in her basket, she thanked me and scooted off. A few minutes later
the cheerful young employee who hangs out in the wine department
asked me if I was finding everything I needed. "Yes, but," I joked, "I just did your job
for you." Oh! she said, I saw that. I thought you were
friends!
Same
shopping trip, a little later, in the produce section at New Seasons.
It's Wednesday, geezer 10% discount day, so the store is full of
people even older than I am. As I'm reaching for the parsnips, a
woman with an intent stare magnified by her glasses blurts out
“Turnips. Know the best way to prepare them?” No, I do not. Tell
me. “Raw.” You mean, like, grated? “No, just sliced. My kids,
they used to eat them like potato chips.” She pauses. “Those
grandkids, though? I can't even get them to touch 'em.”
My
face in repose tends to go severe around the mouth. In photos I often
look disapproving and unapproachable. It's called bitchy resting
face, and it's a real Internet disorder. I've been reminding myself
to smile more in public, at least relax those facial muscles.
Apparently it's working.
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