I cook, therefore I am.

I enter Wegman’s with exuberant confidence. I feel like Mufasa in The Lion King as he takes his place on Pride Rock. I march into the store as shoppers hastily rush past me with “Get the @!$%* out of my way!” written on their faces. Parents beg their children to stop whining. Tiny arms decorated with neon Silly Bandz dangle from shopping carts.

Your typical supermarket. Just add a battlefield
of shopping carts and screaming kids.

My eyes feast upon the sea of golden corn, cannon sized watermelon, and fresh fish, I feel the panic settle in. 

I migrate to the safety of a pillar of Red Delicious apples and stand awkwardly, as if I’m looking for just-the right piece of fruit. Three minutes in and I’m already feeling defeated.

I notice the sanctuary of the coffee bar and wander over. I stand behind an older woman who just can’t decide on which flavor of gelato to order. “They all look so GOOD!” she says obnoxiously as a tired acne stricken teenager looks at nothing in particular. After trying about seven flavors and at least three minutes, she settles on (drum roll) Vanilla. Gelato Lady shuffles on and I finally place my order. 

“I’ll have a tall Green Tea Chai latte, with skim milk.” I say as maturely as possible. I want others around me to know that I drink Green Tea, which obviously makes me more sophisticated than everyone else. Teenager hands me my drink. It is delicious. My mind goes back to the mission I came here for.  

I find my way to the ready-to-cook section, an arena of average, high in sodium, meals that are perfect for those “on the go” families. My eyes examine the mediocre-looking mac ‘n cheese, various quiches, fillets of salmon, flounder, and meatloaf. You just pop it in the oven! Genius! These adorable portions would definitely take longer to put together than cereal, but if melted cheese is part of the reward I don’t mind the wait. Maybe I can catch up on some Shark Week while my meal makes itself.

On-the-go meals! Perfect for the high sodium addict!

No, wait, I came here with the intention of cooking, and cooking does not constitute buying something that needs some heating up. I can do this. OK, so I’m feeling a hankering for fish and a veggie, let’s see. How do you even cook a fish? Do you have to scale it? That sounds unfun. I think I'd rather rip a band-aid off 100 times then scale a fish. What happens to their eyes? Then I notice that Wegman’s does not sell actual whole fish right out of the sea, but they do have dainty-looking fillets. Whew! I’m relieved that I don’t have to perform any major surgery on a water creature today.

Shelves stocked with colorful fruits, wedges of cheese, leafy vegetables, and breads distract me from my buzzing thoughts. Whatever. I’ll just grab asparagus and some kind of inexpensive fillet and peace out. I can season it with olive oil, herbs, bacon, paprika, or ...something. I’ll Google it when I get home. I reluctantly head over to the seafood section that smells more like a slow death than a place someone should be selecting a meal from.

I approach the counter where my eyes meet a stocky, sheepishly looking middle-aged man who looks like he’s had just about enough. A child screams in the background. We both sigh.

“Hi!” I say in my most upbeat tone. “I’m looking for something tasty to cook for dinner tonight. What’s your freshest catch?” 

The employee peers at me from beneath his “W” monogrammed forest green baseball cap, as if I’m joking. He does not look amused.

If you aren't a Disney kid,
this is the beloved Flounder.

“Uh, well, we have these ready-to-cook entrees, the flounder is popular.”

“Yea, that sounds OK, but I want something I can like, throw in a pan, sear, and serve on a plate with some veggies, and maybe even add a touch of parsley, just for decoration, or course.”

A blank stare.

“Uh, ...OK, I’ll take the flounder you suggested.”

The man slowly grabs a fillet, and places the sad-looking item in a container, prints the label, and hands me the package, all without breaking his curious glance.

I politely say, “Thanks so much for your help!” and flash my biggest, cheesiest smile. 

Great, now I have a piece of raw fish, already stuffed with crab meat and seasoned, that I didn’t prepare. I suck at this.

The sushi section catches my eye as I’ve had many successful visits there. I tell ya, the Japanese have it down. All they do is chop up some fish, that’s not even COOKED, roll it in rice and avocado, which tastes good with ANYTHING, and make it look pretty on a plate with some ginger shavings. No heating involved. My kind of meal.

The little rolls and sashimi look so cozy in their plastic containers! Faux flats of grass line their beds. I settle on a spicy tuna roll with brown rice, but not before digging to the bottom of the trays to find the freshest batch. No one’s playing this girl. A container of vegetable dumplings completes my order.

Store-bought sushi.

“This is just an afternoon snack.” I assure myself.

I hit up the register with my purchases: 1 already prepared stuffed flounder fillet, 1 spicy tuna roll, 1 package of vegetable dumplings, Cystal Light, and Orbit. $23.47.Mission accomplished. Sort of.