In Memoriam - The Corner Grocery Store

I was browsing cookbooks this morning - a favorite pastime on a dreary February day - trying to find some inspiration to liven up suppertime. Like many other folks who cook for only one or two, I've fallen into a meal-preparation rut that centers around frozen meals and convenience foods. I enjoy cooking and trying new things but lately have found it increasingly difficult to choose this more adventurous culinary path.

The reason?

It's becoming more and more difficult to find foods that are packaged in smaller sizes. Everything seems to be sold in bulk or Jumbo Sized or SUPER-SIZED! We're on an especially tight budget right now as are so many others. The idea of wasting food, never a good one, is a particularly unwelcome one these days. But try as ye may, it's virtually impossible (at least in my neck of the woods) to go into a grocery store and purchase two or three yellow onions instead of a 5- or 10-pound bag. Celery seems to only be available in two-bunch packages and it's getting harder to find milk in pint bottles or eggs sold by the half-dozen.

It's this that makes me long for the old corner store, an endangered species that has become virtually extinct in much of the country (especially in suburbia).

I grew up in Buffalo, New York in a neighborhood made up primarily of German and Polish families. I fondly remember hopping on my bicycle and pedaling two blocks to Mr. and Mrs. Kowiski's store. You could "break" a pound of butter and only purchase one stick, or purchase that half-dozen eggs or 3 onions or 4 potatoes or whatever else mom put on the list as she was planning the evening meal. Mrs. Kowiski would always invite errand-running kids like me to pick a piece from the magical glass-fronted penny-candy case as her reward to us for helping our mothers. Nothing ever seemed to be out of stock, yet everything was always fresh. The Kowiskis knew the tastes of the neighborhood and accommodated requests to stock particular products with pleasure.

The corner store, though, was much more than a place to buy groceries. In many ways, these enterprises were the hearts of the neighborhoods in which they thrived. In those stores, the women in the neighborhood - most of them strictly homemakers - would stop to chat with each other or with the store owner, exchanging news both momentous and mundane. If a neighbor was sick, you'd probably learn of it first at the store and would likely make a call to see if help was needed or make a casserole or offer some other kindness.

The store owners also kept a watchful eye on the neighborhood kids who'd congregate to check out the newest comic books or teen magazines. They'd ask about how things were going in school or for the little league team and would offer praise for a job well done or encouragement (and sometimes even gentle admonishment) when things didn't go quite right. And of course, they'd be sure the parents knew if there were any hints of trouble.

But enough reminiscing! It's unlikely that the corner store, along with so much of what America seems to be losing, is coming back anytime soon. Communities everywhere are poorer for the loss.