Where Shopping is a Pleasure

Otherwise known as... He Said I Looked Smokin'...

As explained in A Tale of Two Neighbors, I had a relationship with my next-door neighbor during the last year I lived in my house.  He was cute.  He was very charming.  He loved Rock Band.  Two out of three isn't bad.  The Neighbor works in the Meat Department at my local Publix.  In the beginning, I would look for him through the clear glass window and make a point of saying hello... now... it's been well over a year since we broke up... I rarely look for him.  In fact, now the tables have turned-- if he sees me he'll come out of the back and walk with me while I do my shopping... or chase me down in another part of the store. 

I know the only reason he does this is because we are no longer dating.  If I were to show him the slightest bit of interest, we would be back where we were when things were not very good at all.  Thankfully... we are not. 

Today, I showed up at Publix right after work still wearing the outfit I described in Start Hot... Finish Cold.  I was going to a cocktail-ish gathering this evening with a few colleagues, and had been requested to bring something snack-y, so I picked up my favorite mini-wheel of brie and some fancy crackers.  I thought as long as I was there, I might as well pick up something for dinner this weekend, so I stopped by the meat department, and picked through the chicken thighs near the sign that read Boneless Skinless.

One has to be cautious when purchasing boneless skinless thighs, because unless one is very careful, a shopper may go home with skinless, bone-in, chicken thighs.  This has tragically happened to yours truly more than once.  Earlier this week I had looked for boneless skinless thighs to no avail (plenty of skinless but all decidedly with bone)... when I had planned to make my yummy, satisfying chicken and artichoke stew on Tuesday evening.  I was de-nied, and made do the rest of the week with less soul-full food.  So, today, when my search was again fruitless (poultry-less?) I decided to give the management a piece of my stew-loving mind.  Plus, I knew the Neighbor was working.  He was the management.  I knocked on the door; he came busting out.  I had a package of bone-in skinless thighs in my hand.

Jenchan!

This is the second time I've been here this week and I haven't been able to get boneless skinless thighs.  I need to make my stew!

He knows my chicken and artichoke stew.  Intimately.  It is my go-to cold weather comfort meal... and so very healthy!  I know it hasn't been cold, but you know, when a girl has her heart-- and tastebuds-- set on a particular food, one can't disappoint!

Why must you be so difficult?  

I'm not difficult!  I need boneless and skinless thighs!  Why haven't you had them?

You look smokin'.

I started to protest further... then actually heard what he said.  Thank-you!  I smiled.  The Neighbor is a true ladies' man.  We may be exes, but he still tries to exert his charm when he can.  I have to admit... it's kind of flattering.  And... nobody had ever called me smokin' before.  He asked me how much I needed.

Three pounds.  

Wait right here.  

I'm not going to wait for you!  I have shopping to finish... I'll be back!

So, he went inside to debone three pounds of thighs for his smokin' ex-girlfriend, and I finished my grocery shopping. 

When I picked up the chicken, he insinuated that he wanted to come over for the meal.

That's not happening. 

I prefer to keep our exchanges where it's safe under the glaring florescent lighting of the Publix meat department.  When I got to the checkout, I looked at the price of the chicken.  He had put a sticker on it for regular bone-in, with skin, thighs.  I paid five bucks for three pounds of boneless, skinless thighs. 

My ex had hooked me up.  After all, they don't call it where shopping is a pleasure for nothing. 


Addendum:  The author is acutely aware that she can de-bone chicken thighs herself... but prefers to buy her chicken conveniently without the bone.  She realizes this might possibly put her in the category of kitchen slacker... and is just fine with that.