Grocery Loyalty

I must admit, I was curious about the Gourmet Fresh store opening up on my end of Carroll Gardens. I was pretty happy with Sue's little shop where I bought veggies and the Italian brothers' shop where I got my meat and everything else. I occasionally ventured into Caputo's to get olive bread, parma proscuitto, home made pasta, sauce, and anything else that caught my eye until it was my turn to pay. So, the addition of Gourmet Fresh to my food chain seemed like a notch up on my life quality.

I went in there the first day to admire the new shelves and small but convenient shopping carts, the red of all red tomatoes and looked for my favorite olive oil. Then I recognized the crew from the crummy Key Food store which was replaced by the CVS a couple years ago. Everything was the same, but with new make up and dress. Yes, everything was available and nicely organized. I thought 'Poor Sue,' 'Poor Bro's' ...what would they do now?

I noticed the first write up in a blog, called A Brooklyn Life. And today, NY Times did a story on the situation, pointing to the gentrification of the area.

I don't like the quote they picked from the GF shopper though, who was saying that she appreciates finding it all in one place. Yes, sometimes we're pressed for time and need to buy and go but these 3 stores are smack next to each other. So, let's just pretend it's one long stretch of options.

I'll tell you what - I am sticking with Sue and the Italian store. When I was getting my apartment painted and nearly lost my mind over the ever extending schedule, Sue and her family helped me out by ushering the keys when I was at work. I can trust them with my apartment! Every time I go in to the Italian store, Michael - one of the brothers - practices his few Turkish words with me and asks me about my parents. (And my parents really ask about them over the phone.) And when I see Al in the morning, rushing to open his store, he takes a moment to greet me and wish me a good morning.

If I want the generic upper-middle class experience, I'll go to GF. But I do appreciate the familiar feeling of Sue's store and the authentic nature of the Italian store. That's why I like living in this neighborhood.

When Barnes and Noble opened up on Court Street, by Atlantic Avenue, a lot of Cobble Hill residents supported the local book store and tried to shop from there as much as possible. I hope Carroll Gardeners do the same, so we don't lose our flavor - literally!

News in Russia

From the minute I stepped into the hotel lobby in Moscow, I felt at home. The young receptionist with the swanky hair style asked if I had a Turkish Airlines frequent flyer card after seeing my passport. I said 'Why yes,' and handed it over. (Note to self: Positives about cluttered purses include ability to access any random airline card on call.) I was to get points thanks to an agreement between SwissOtel and Turkish Airlines. Very well. Kaching, kaching...

Another young man, with an accent I recognized from my subway line in Brooklyn, helped carry my luggage to my room. I plunked the large green Samsonite on the couch. This rugged bag had carried me back and forth between Pennsylvania and Istanbul during my student years. To fight my jetlag, I turned on the TV. I started zapping and gazing down the cardboard left by my bed side, listing available channels.

To my welcomed surprise, there were four Turkish channels listed. It dawned on me that the surge of Turkish businessmen carrying out deals in Moscow had made the hotel include these channels as a gesture to its guests. And we were so close to Istanbul - by American geography standards - that it may have been just the local cable package.

For the next four days, I lived in a small piece of my homeland within a vast foreign city. Every time I stepped back into my room to grab a notebook, to change clothes, to rest, I turned on the TV and got stunned, horrified and cried. Channel after channel showed the news about the 17 Turkish soldiers ambushed on the Eastern border, their funerals and people beating their chests in an outcry about the ongoing problem of terrorism. The news programs were interspersed between comedy series with sub-titles. The King of Queens was not enough to distract me from the documentary on NTV, where past terrorism victims were being interviewed.

Outside was the impressive Kremlin buildings and Red Square with its dream-like captivity. The conference hall was the most elegant I had seen. The event organizers buzzed around, being helpful, keeping cheery, friendly faces, hosting the speakers with the utmost generosity. Inside, my people were hurting, mourning and bracing each other with more fear than hope.