Is there such thing as a 'free lunch?'

Buying food and managing a menu are among the most difficult parts of parenthood for me. What is most important? Taste? Price? Nutritional content? Ease of preparation? Buying local?

There are many things to consider, but I am discovering something about myself as my children grow older: the most important thing to me when it comes to food is shelf life. I don’t mean shelf life as in ‘how long will it stay good.’ I mean shelf life as in ‘how long will it stay put.’

That’s right. My number one criterion for a good food buy is how long the food is likely to stay in my cupboard—the longer the better. This requires it to not taste so bad that it would never get eaten, but also not taste so good that it would all be eaten on the day I buy it. I never buy cookies, for example. Any positive health effects of this decision are purely incidental.

At the store, if I see something that my children would actually enjoy eating, it’s not likely to go in the cart. You see, spending four and a half dollars on a box of crackers is only worth it if I know that four and a half dollars will be spread out over, say, thirteen weeks. Then I’ve really gotten a good deal. So it’s salt-free Triscuits for us, thank you.

Some people overcome the dilemma of food disappearing too fast by shopping in bulk at places like Costco, Sam’s Club or the Taj Majal. For me, this is problematic on several levels.
Sure the per-item price is lower than at regular grocery stores, but it’s really hard to take comfort in that fact when I’ve just spent $39.00 on noodles. . . never mind that I won’t have to buy them again this decade.

I don’t have room to refrigerate the five-gallon jug of meat marinade “once opened.” The 800-pack of flavored oatmeal might have a chance if it doubles as an ottoman, but my freezer would almost certainly be overtaxed by the industrial sized bucket of fish sticks.
And if, by some odd culinary coincidence, I happened to need noodles, meat marinade, oatmeal and fish sticks all at once, I would push my way through the gale force fan gusts at the exit with only four items on my flatbed cart, but with the better part of a car payment missing from my wallet.

Safety is also an issue. At no other food store in town will you be beeped at by a man driving farm equipment and carrying a six-ton pallet of M & Ms. If you’re going to shop there, it should be with the understanding, first and foremost, that you are in the way.

Nevertheless, every Saturday, after choir and Kung Fu have had their due attention, my family heads to just such a store. The membership is worth it for the samples alone. There’s something for everyone: chicken in peanut sauce, a power bar, spinach-filled raviolis, even things with the word ‘organic’ in the name, which is comforting, if not entirely believable. And let’s not forget dessert. The first time I saw the sample table serving a fudge brownie with vanilla ice cream on top, a patriotic tear escaped my eye.

Occasionally a space-age blender or a wok that also functions as a campfire pit will be demonstrated, and then you might as well break out the lawn chairs. Smoothies, mashed potatoes, tomato soup, all manner of stir-fry, even a tin-foil dinner if you wait long enough. And the head-set microphones used by the peddlers kind of make you feel like you’re at a concert, so that’s a bonus.

I’ve heard it said there is no such thing as a free lunch. But next Saturday when you see my Costco cart full of satisfied children (and not much else), I’ll let you decide if it’s true.