We're spending 30 days digging into groceries—how to shop for them, where to shop for them, and what to do when the lady in front of you has more than 12 items in her basket. For the complete series, click here.
There are so many things we do without thinking, so many conventions we follow blindly, without question, even if it doesn't make any sense, or is more difficult, or less interesting. A few days ago I showered an hour or so before I went to the gym, where I would soon take another shower. Why did I do this? Because society says a shower in the morning is a good thing. Also, I was on autopilot. I just did it. It was dumb.
But whatever. I'm not Yoda. Like most humans, I don't question many of my decisions. Several years ago, when I noticed that people at the farmer's market were carrying around tote bags, I only had a vague sense of why they were doing it before I started blindly following and switched to canvas tote bags myself. This made me just as precious as everybody else at the market (except for the woman in the yellow sundress and enormous fedora who was carrying around a wicker basket), but I didn't care. I felt generically virtuous. "It's for the Earth," I thought to myself. "Climate change stops now."
These thoughts propelled me through the market as I snatched up loaves of seeded bread and jars of quince jelly. Eventually I was at my favorite fruit farmer, buying a pint of peaches. He handed them over to me in a plastic bag.
I took them, and then I had a rare Yoda moment. I was putting a plastic bag into the canvas bag that was meant to banish all plastic bags from Earth. Something didn't compute. Until it did.
I have rarely used a plastic bag for individual groceries since.
This is easy to do at the farmer's market, because everything feels clean and wholesome at a farmer's market (and besides, the no-plastic-bag practice is quickly becoming de rigeur at farmer's markets anyway). But at the supermarket, it takes more dedication. The bags are just hanging there, always at eye level, waiting to be used. And I am seriously grossed out by the communal carts, cringing at the idea of putting my leafy greens directly in contact with it.
But I do it, because whether I put them in their own plastic bag or not, those greens are going to get washed. So are those apples. The fennel is going to have a layer removed before I eat it anyway (ditto onions, shallots, garlic) and bananas (not that I ever buy the disgusting things) have their own protective coating. And if I don't resist putting these things in plastic bags, I come home to deal with...many plastic bags. Which I immediately throw away.
What's the point? No seriously: What is the point of putting vegetables into their own plastic bags? If I buy three tomatoes, are they going to get separation anxiety if they aren't nestled next to each other in my grocery bag? If I don't wrap my jalapeño chiles in plastic bags, will they turn everything else in my grocery bag spicy? Here's a third and equally ridiculous question: If bagged in its own individual plastic bag, would I consider my head of kale clean enough to eat without washing?
The answer to all of these questions is no. So while I will occasionally grab a plastic bag to wrap chicken in (raw chicken juice being an actual threat to other foods), or to contain tiny groups of foods that would otherwise roll off the checkout belt (looking at you, small potatoes), I mostly leave those bags in the produce section hanging. Let some unenlightened chump use them. Me? I'm going Yoda.
