You should go to the grocery store hungry
The pros of shopping famished, the first edition of Stripmall Serenity, and the enduring lesson of "Big Night" (1996)
Welcome to the first edition of Half Empty. Here we go!
Recommendation Station
At some point we were all told, either directly by someone we love or through cultural osmosis, not to go to the store hungry. Arguments abound: that it leads to impulse purchases, that you’ll buy unhealthy or expensive items, that the momentary pleasure of satisfying hunger pangs won’t help you achieve “long-term goals”, a sense of fulfillment, etc.
I say go hungry. Starving. Walk in there like an apex predator, a prowling bear in a state of desperation. Go to the store with senses dulled and in full self-control? I’d rather not. I’ll walk in with a vague sense of what I need and let my body and soul do the rest. The big (read: BIG) jar of kimchi? Absolutely. The jamón-flavored chips? Sure. The $16 granola you could probably make at home? That’s going to hurt the ol’ bifold, but we have so little to live for just put it in the cart.
In that heightened, manic state I concede you will be more inclined to make a budgetary misstep, or to veer off the cursed “meal-plan” course. But rather than fight those most deep, visceral cravings that we all experience, why not lean into them? If not always, at least every now and again. Let your instincts take the wheel for once and see where your body takes you. I think you’ll find that the experience can be exhilarating and even enlightening. Grab something you can eat right away upon making your exit. A crusty loaf of bread is perfect, maybe a little mochi or an onigiri, chocolate, even a piece of fruit will do the trick. It’ll feel good, mainly on a superficial level, but what’s so wrong with that?
Sometimes what you end up with won’t be the most rewarding nutritionally or financially, but spiritually it’s exactly what you need. And the inverse could be just as true. Each trip will be different.
On a related note, it’s always been my nature to go to the market 3, 4, even 5 times a week. I have a hard time thinking ahead (about everything, but most especially about food). And, frankly, I don’t see the problem. I’ve been privileged to have a quality market near enough to my home that it makes this frequency doable. The once a week Costco run is great and all, but I like to eat what I feel like, and buying in bulk unfortunately doesn’t align with that philosophy. Go often, go hungry, see where it leads you, the comments are open.
Stripmall Serenity - Pa Ord Noodle, 5301 Sunset Blvd #8, Los Angeles, CA
A recurring section on the refuge found streetside in the megalopolis
I paid a visit to Pa Ord Noodle in LA the other night in search of some stripmall serenity and boy did I find it in a bowl of boat noodles. I opted for the beef with liver, meatballs, and tripe with rice noodles. The broth was delicious, just a hint of sweetness, I’m sure in part due to the infusion of pork’s blood.
One word of warning: to my weak, Western palate my spice choice of “medium” teetered right at the edge of what I could tolerate. It was spicy. And it was only after I had tucked into my noodles that I saw a sign advising the meek masses that this establishment serves its food at authentically Thai levels of heat. In short: if you are unsure of your ability to handle our cuisine, please check your ego at the door and go for mild. My mistake, but I have no regrets.
The fire in my mouth catapulted me into an altered state of mind anyone who enjoys fiery food has encountered. The pain reached a crescendo and I found myself unable to do much else but put my head down and get through it. Twenty minutes in I found myself still blowing on each bite to cool it down, but by that point the soup was no longer hot; these were my futile attempts at extinguishing the blaze. Pathetic.
Again, it was extremely delicious, and I was fully present with my food in a way that is rare for me these days. I sat there with my bowl of noodles, I let the pain and pleasure wash over me, and that was that. Don’t let spicy serenity be a rarity in your life.
The “Big Night” that never comes to pass
Watching “Big Night” (1996) for the first time, I was struck by a couple of things. Once you’ve made it past the delightfully off Italian accents, you’re left with an evergreen portrayal of the restaurant industry and an exploration of, in the mind of Stanley Tucci, why it is we cook. What I found most affecting, though, was their portrayal of hope and disappointment, the emotional roller coaster of our existence. I saw it, in some ways, as a cautionary tale.
In the film, brothers Primo and Secondo (Tony Shalhoub and Tucci, respectively) are promised a visit to their languishing restaurant from legendary singer Louis Prima by a neighboring restaurant owner. They’re convinced that if Prima visits, their insolvent business will come to life and they will secure the American dream. They anxiously prepare an epic feast centered around a timpano (a southern Italian dish of pasta, meatball, salami, and egg baked in a dough casing into the shape of a kettledrum) that stuns their guests in its deliciousness. Hours pass, the party descends into joyous revelry, and, spoiler, Prima never shows. The movie ends as day breaks and Secondo silently prepares an omelette for himself, his weary brother, and their busser.
I find myself, and you too maybe, looking for some abstract “big night” often. Whether that’s a life-changing moment you hope will somehow arrive. Or maybe it’s a snapshot of your future self, invented by your mind’s eye, that you’re struggling towards. A static image where your hopes and dreams align with the world around you and a state of beautiful equilibrium is achieved, you have everything you’ve ever wanted and “nirvana” is achieved.
It’s a cliché, “life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans”, but it still rings true, and this movie served me that reminder on a silver platter. Life is happening all around us as we wait for Louis Prima to arrive. This is it, the big night is always happening.
Other nice things:
I went to Holbox, acclaimed south central LA seafood spot, and had two perfect little tacos. I was all by my lonesome, but I will be back with a crew to order as much of their wondrous mariscos as possible.
My parents had these peanuts and I ate too many. They were indeed super, extra-large.
Thank you for reading. All posts will be free for all until further notice.
Never really an option to not go hungry since I'm always hungry. Love to see the LA food. And congrats on new pub!
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