Today I spent just over $130 for groceries at Kroger. That seems alarming for the contents of 2 (admittedly very heavy) reusable bags. In another era, I'd have said "obscene" but consider this: for two nights we ate dinner in Abingdon, VA, at admittedly fine-dining establishments. Each meal cost the two of us more than I just spent at the supermarket.
Why the photo of Andy Warhol shopping for his preferred subjects? The artist brought the quotidian to our attention: the design of everyday (and humbly priced) things. One wonders if today he'd paint the boxes of artisanal pastas or containers of Seventh Generation's guilt-free, eco-safe detergents in refillable containers. Since his time, we've become (at least among the educated elite) a nation of gourmands...I mean foodies. Consider our cooking shows, our urban districts chock-full of bespoke dining options, even after COVID.
Expensive groceries, however, do not compare to $40 entrees.
Discovering this, made a decision to not eat out as often, recently. Our garden is a bit smaller this year, because we traveled at peak-planting time. But we have a vegetable stand nearby and these things called cookbooks. I do like recipes on the iPad, but something about a paper text, ad-free, on the counter charms me.
When away from home, we've learned the art of using lunch to test a restaurant out, but more often lunch means a picnic or a modest place like a taco-truck or burger place. It continues the trend we noticed, nationally, during the pandemic. I can also safely say that we won't again be eating at fine-dining places more than once or twice per year: an anniversary and a birthday, perhaps. Or not at all? Maybe not until restaurants offer more down-market options; a looming Recession may force their hands.
Even now, options abound without resorting to a Big Mac: one of our favorite places in Richmond, a bistro called Bacchus, attracts a diverse crowd and is understated cool without being trendy. It features specials for about half the price I quoted, and the food is wonderful. I no longer feel the need (never a very strong need) for "restaurant as experience." Besides, at one place in Abingdon, the noise inside was deafening. We insisted on the patio, telling the hostess "inside is too loud." In Charlottesville for a concert, we found Sal's Caffe Italia, surrounded by upscale eateries, still offering an 80s vibe of oil paintings, quiet dining, and reasonably priced yet amazing Italian food. We'll be back.
I'm baffled why people enjoy overpriced, over-hyped, and overly loud dining but even more baffled by how anyone thought building an economy around going to movies and eating out could be sustainable. Someone enlighten me.
Somehow, somewhere, we lost a thread of dining that once looked like this (courtesy of 1950sUnlimited at Flickr), to build an entire economy (it seems) out of going to dinner.
My family never looked or ate out like that, but we knew folks who did. Except for the very rich, those experiences were reserved for special occasions. We all, however, aspired to be like Jet-Setters, who apparently lived like that all the time. Remember, that was a time before credit cards. Now we can pretend to be the elite, paying later.
It won't end well, and maybe the $40 entree signals that the end is nigh. Good.
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