Four reasons I'd lay down in traffic for people who work at Trader Joe's
Plus: the unexpected item your closet might be missing, and a cookie recipe worth paying for
Every Monday or Tuesday morning, I brave the uniquely (and ubiquitously) awful parking lot at Trader Joe’s for my weekly haul. Why? Because their bananas, string cheese, half-salted almonds, and oat milk are superior to and somehow less expensive than their counterparts at any other grocery store. I do not go for the tote bags. I do not go for the samples, Jingle Jangle, or hidden stuffed animals. And I definitely do not go for the cereal.
But I do go for the black beans, Dark Chocolate Lover’s Bar, and herb salad mix.
Oh, and one other thing. I go for the employees.
Where does TJ’s find these angels? The fact that they are almost uniformly funny, kind, relaxed, and helpful leads me to believe they’re being cranked out in a factory—like, maybe the same place they make Joe-Joe’s.
Alternatively, do they only seem like angels because my TJ’s is located next door to a Food 4 Less (where I buy cereal, tortillas, Italian parsley, and other very specific ingredients unavailable at TJ’s) whose aggressive fluorescent lighting and yellow walls turn the employees surly by comparison?
I think it’s the former. TJ’s people are just born lovely.
Don’t agree? Here are four reasons I’d lay down in traffic for a Trader Joe’s crew member.
1. They once covered my grocery bill.
Years ago, before smartphones or Apple Pay were a thing, I visited TJ’s and left my wallet at home in a different purse without realizing it until I reached the register. Of course, there was a line of impatient shoppers waiting behind me, and my cart had already been re-packed with my bagged groceries. The total mensch at checkout, a guy named John, saw the panic on my face and pulled out his own wallet to cover me.
“My instincts tell me you’re good for it,” he said, and he wasn’t wrong. I returned within 30 minutes to pay him back in cash. How could I not? His generosity and trust in me were (and still are) humbling.
What’s more, I brought this up with John once, years later, as he bagged my groceries, and he didn’t even recall the story. Apparently it wasn’t a memorable event—it’s just how he is.
2. They caught my movie reference.
When I was pregnant with our firstborn, a TJ’s employee asked whether I’d chosen a name for the new baby. Sheepishly, I told the truth: we were going to give our son the middle name “Sebastian” so that my husband could live out his dream of yelling, “Kick his ass, Seabass!” if ever our boy was bullied.
Is it stupid to name your child after a quote from the 1994 comedy Dumb & Dumber? The stupidest.
Did the guy behind the register that day judge me? To the contrary, I earned his undying respect. In fact, he jumped right in with a quote of his own.
“Who’s the dead man who hit me with the salt shaker?!?!”
3. They make me snort with laughter.
One guy at the San Luis Obispo Trader Joe’s isn’t huge on banter at the register, but every once in a while he says something that makes me laugh out loud. It happened last week, in fact, as he rang up my groceries and another guy bagged.
“What are you going to use this for?” he asked, holding up a little carton of heavy whipping cream. It took me by surprise. Usually, TJ’s employees will comment on how ripe the strawberries are right now, or how they just got a new mochi flavor in and how tasty it is. But this introverted guy had been working the register long enough to know how to make the customer do all the talking. All he had to do was ask about some arbitrary ingredient.
“It’s for something called ‘Marry Me Chicken,’” I said. “It’s a New York Times recipe of pan-fried chicken cutlets in a sauce of cream and chopped sun-dried tomatoes. My whole family loves it.”
“Do they call it ‘Marry Me Chicken’ because it’s so good you’ll ask the cook to marry you?” the bagger asked, and I said yes, that was the idea.
“I’d better not make that, then,” the bagger joked. “Otherwise my girlfriend will get ideas.”
“Yeah,” said the introverted checker guy, so softly I almost couldn’t hear him. “Better call it ‘Heck Of A Roommate Chicken.’ Or maybe ‘Joint Costco Membership Chicken.’”
4. They give hugs.
I’ve had some rough days over the last several years, including days when the fridge and pantry were empty. Somehow, I’ve pulled myself together enough to drive to Trader Joe’s, navigate the parking lot hellscape, and buy chicken-apple sausages, roasted garlic hummus, naan crackers, Floriana Grüner Veltliner, and whatever other regular items fuel our family through the week. On one of those occasions, I shuffled through the checkout line with tears rolling down my cheeks, uncontrollably. I must have gone through six tissues standing there, praying that no one I knew would recognize me.
When I finally reached the checker, she saw my eyes and asked if everything was okay. Her kindness was more than my fragile emotions could support, and I started really weeping. That’s when the magic happened: she walked out from behind her little wooden checkout corral, around to the front, and wrapped me up in a big bear hug. We stood there for a while, and I know she would have stayed longer if I hadn’t broken away.
When at last we returned to my groceries, she didn’t ask a single question but let me bag and pay in silence. When I left, she told me to take good care.
She actually might have been an angel. I’ve never seen her there since.
Anatomy of a great fancy outfit
I recently flew to New York and stayed at the home of my friend Mo Vazquez, who owns the sticker company Pipsticks. If you’ve met Mo, you understand she has outrageously fun and playful taste, so when I packed for a night on the town seeing the Amy Sherald show at the Whitney, Othello on Broadway (with Denzel and Jake Gyllenhaal!) and dining with her at Buvette, I wanted something frolick-y and punchier than what I usually wear in good ole casual SLO.
Enter my trusty pair of Sam Edelman sequin shorts. I bought them on a whim at ROSS in, like, 2010, and they are sartorial Champagne: they scream PARTY whenever I put them on. I wear them about twice a year, and their longevity is incredible. (I’m now convinced they’re the one piece that everyone’s closet is missing.)
I often wear a black sweater with them, but this time around I wanted something a little friskier so I picked up this sheer high-neck blouse for on top.
A pair of black tights and my new GORGEOUS Michael Kors kitten-heel boots (currently on sale for under $100!) gave the ensemble femininity, and my Banana Republic wool coat kept me warm in New York’s finicky spring weather.
Believe it or not, this ⬆️ is the best photo I got of my mythically beautiful outfit in New York. But I actually loved it so much I said to hell with it, and wore it to a birthday party back in SLO upon our return, because life is just too short not to wear sequins as often as possible. Fortunately, Jake grabbed a shot of me singing with friends at the end of the night.
A tasty cookie—and a note about why I use so many NY Times recipes
Lately, I’ve been trying to keep homemade cookies in rotation at the house. Sure, they’re packed with butter and sugar, but I figure because I know what’s in them, they’re probably better than any packaged stuff the kids may pick up throughout their day. Right? Right.
The recipe that’s been rocking my world lately is Krysten Chambrot’s Peanut Butter Miso Cookies with 8,000 five-star ratings on New York Times Cooking. The miso contributes an inherently savory quality while plenty of sugar keeps the cookie sweet, sort of like a PayDay candy bar.
Yes, the recipe comes from the same New York Times Cooking that published the Marry Me Chicken recipe above. Why do I lean on that source so often for recipes?
For one thing, the rating system has never failed me. Every five-star recipe with lots of ratings has been a hit in our home. Life is short! I don’t always feel like cooking through a cookbook to see which dishes work and which inevitably do not.
For another thing, I hate-hate-hate pulling recipes from blogs online. When my recipe for Apology Cookies came out in The Washington Post last year, and was later syndicated in the San Diego Union-Tribune and Reader’s Digest (and who knows where else), a rash of A.I.-churned copycat blog posts emerged touting suspiciously similar recipes, complete with stories of begging peoples’ forgiveness with cookies. (I do not include examples here because they don’t deserve the clicks!) Honestly, it feels like about a third of online recipes are Frankenstein-cobbled drivel, and with the advent of cheap and easy A.I., that percentage is only going to grow.
And finally, I know the New York Times pays its writers and tests the heck out of each recipe, so I’m happy to pay for access to them. I am unequivocally biased, but in what universe should valuable information from skilled, hard-working people be acquired for free?! Not this one, says I.
Okay, stepping off the soap box now.
Happy Spring!
Your friend,
I loved your piece about Trader Joe's! I'm in SLO and am going to make a point of driving over there more often.
I love those TJ's stories! One time my debit card was declined and Maria, the checker, calmly and with no judgment waited for me to call my cc card to activate the other one while I bounced a toddler on my hip. I brought it up to her years later - the dignity she gave me, and she didn't remember it either! I do have a soft spot for the yellow-washed surly checkers next store :) Can you imagine working an 8 hour shift there?