Note: This post originally ran without mention of WinCo, which was a grave oversight on the part of an unnamed MOVIN’ ON UP employee. That person has been disciplined.
Adaptability to one’s environment has been key to the evolution of our species. I think we can all agree on that, at least in a general sense? In the modern world, however, it seems that the environment doesn’t change much from place to place, so we don’t have as much to adapt to when we move. What adjustments need to be made when you’re going from WalMart Town A with the Applebee’s/Subway/Starbucks to WalMart Town B with the Olive Garden/Subway/Starbucks? Learning about a restaurant’s breadstick policy isn’t what Darwin was talking about. As comfortable as it may be to transplant yourself to a new place with all the things you already are familiar with, it’s also pretty boring. And, evolutionarily-speaking, dangerous.
Still, we need that boredom sometimes. If everything was brand new, I know I would be overwhelmed. I’m already slightly flummoxed walking into a Target I’ve never been in- looking for things where they would be at my regular Target- and I did recently get lost at Costco (no, they didn’t call my mother over the PA to come get me). So I’m not one to judge if sameness gives you comfort.
That leads to today’s discussion, which is about supermarkets. Please don’t go away, this will be fun. While 90% of supermarkets (made that number up) are the same everywhere- a Kroger by another name is still a Kroger- there’s just enough regional variation here to add some spice (get it? They sell spices). Consider this your guide to grocery shopping in Portland, should you be so fortunate.
The Nationals
The Safeway/Albertsons empire is represented here by…Safeway and Albertsons. Upon moving here and learning that there was Safeway instead of Vons and Pavilions, I was irrationally excited. Pavilions was fine enough, but every Vons I walked into took something from my soul. It seemed nice to be back to Safeway- which is what I grew up with in Northern California- and I’m nothing if not nostalgic.
That’s stupid though. It might have just been pandemic-brain that made me go weepy at the idea of leisurely ambling through a Safeway. Now that I’ve done this the magic has worn off, because I’m in a Safeway which feels the need to stock 43 different kinds of Oreos but they don’t have any parmesan cheese that’s not in a green can and they’re playing the goddamn Spin Doctors. If I never set foot inside a Safeway again that would be alright, but I know I’ll be back soon since we’re almost out of Flamin’ Hot Doritos and they don’t sell those at Whole Foods, presumably because it’s not food.
Kroger, the WalMart to Safeway’s Target, is represented here by Fred Meyer (more on them later, I’m saving up) and QFC. For purposes of this post I’ve decided that QFC is national (it’s not, just seems like it) while Fred Meyer is regional (it is), so just go with it. QFC stands for Quality Food Centers, which is the most anodyne of supermarket names. I like to come up with new names for QFC myself, usually with a totally different word that starts with F. It also makes me think of this, which makes me hungry:
Anyway, QFC is just a Ralph’s. Moving on.
Whole Foods is here of course, and I shop there fairly often (it’s the closest supermarket to my house) and feel sort of dirty every time. It’s convenient, food’s good, there’s never a line at checkout, and it’s not as exorbitantly-priced as it used to be (thank you Amazon? See, I feel dirty now). I can also usually park right in front. Big plus. The downside remains that Amazon now knows everything I eat, and will surely use that knowledge to destroy me.
Trader Joe’s just opened a second location in the area. I haven’t been to the new one yet because I’m just not psychologically ready to do that to myself. For several months leading up to the opening of the store, new house listings in the area would mention proximity to the upcoming location as a selling point. They’re right, it adds value. In fact I was questioning the quality of any listing that didn’t mention it. Does that Realtor really know the neighborhood?
The one I do go to is a Trader Joe’s in every sense- crowded aisles, cheap frozen food, bad produce, eight kinds of hummus, lots of wine, bells ringing, terrible parking. Somehow I always look forward to Trader Joe’s day though- it means we’ll be having orange chicken soon enough and my cholesterol gets a cheat day. Also, I have proven that if you fill up a shopping cart there it will cost $150 plus/minus about ten bucks, and that includes wine.
Alright WinCo, your turn. This one is semi-national (Washington, Idaho, Nevada, California, Oregon DO YOU GET IT YET?). They also say WinCo is a portmanteau for Winning Company, which isn’t as fun. They’re now in a bunch more states than those five though, and I’ve spent much too long trying to come up with anagrams that include A (Arizona), M (Montana), T (Texas), O (Oklahoma) and U (Utah).
WinCo started in Boise and used to be called Waremart (where mart…there mart!), which is BY FAR the worst name of any of these places. No panache at all, but that is at least apt for this store. A WinCo is a warehouse of food. Frills? None. Their deal is we sell food, lots of it, cheap, so just shut up and buy some. They also don’t take credit cards and won’t bag your groceries. I have Henry Hill’s voice in my head saying “f*** you, pay me,” which they should paint on the side of the building.
I visited the local WinCo to see what all the hype is not about. Much of their identity is about how they have lower prices than their competitors, so there are signs like this all over the place:
You gonna take that lying down, Fred Meyer?
Among the other ways they Pass the Savings on Down to You is buying in bulk directly from manufacturers, and they’ve made some curious arrangements in that regard. For example, there’s a whole lot of shelf space for whatever the hell all of this is, made by Malt-o-Meal which apparently is a brand that still exists in 2022.
If Malt-o-Meal is too fancy and/or you hate leprechauns, may I recommend some Happy Shapes? I think I had some of these at the free breakfast of a Holiday Inn Express. These shapes do not appear to be lucky or charmed:
I figure they mostly sell these to hospitals and prisons. But think of the savings! I can’t, because they didn’t have the sign telling me how much it would cost at Fred Meyer, WalMart or Safeway. That’s because the only other place you can buy Happy Shapes is at an Albanian flea market.
I’ll stop bagging on WinCo (that is a pun, since they don’t bag your groceries) for a moment and appreciate their desire to quench all thirsts:
Does any other store have such a significant supply of Kool-Aid that they put it on the overhead sign? Nope, nobody does. This guy approves.
Anyway, I’ll shop there again. I like their commitment to not trying so hard, it reminds me of supermarkets in the 80’s. I don’t need some fancy-ass WalMart that doesn’t even sell Pepperidge Farm Garlic Texas Toast, not when I can save 35 cents on breakfast cereal by going waaaaaay off-brand. But I won’t try the sushi.
The Regionals
What if I told you that there’s a place you can go to that’s very much like a Whole Foods but costs even MORE? Welcome to New Seasons! The extra cost is for not giving money to Jeff Bezos. Instead it goes to the giant Korean retailer that owns New Seasons (and Bristol Farms, for those in Southern California who enjoy overpaying for groceries).
Anyway, New Seasons is pretty good if you’ve got the scratch, and they’re everywhere. They sell fresh herbs in bulk, which doesn’t make them any cheaper than the ones in plastic containers but I also don’t end up throwing out half of them. Like Whole Foods they stock bread from Grand Central Bakery, which makes a Quality Food Ciabatta. There’s a wine bar, for those who want to drink at the supermarket, and much like a casino or airline there’s a rewards program of dubious value.
For those with slightly more modest budgets, allow me to introduce the Market of Choice. Apparently this mini-chain used to be called Price Chopper Foods, which sounds violent and/or helicoptery. Glad they changed that, even if Market of Choice is about as generic as Quality Food Center. Someone should open a place called Store of Groceries. Anyway, the MOC is about on par with a fancy Ralph’s, or maybe a more name-brand-focused Sprouts (which we don’t have here, and I miss dearly).
Zupan’s is the fancy market, but there are only three of those around. It’s a nice place full of well-curated products and hoooooly crap is it expensive. How much can a banana cost, ten dollars? It might here.
Uwajimaya deserves mention as it’s the biggest Asian supermarket I’ve seen, and has a full-on musubi bar. Most places just have one musubi to choose from, and that’s sad. We also have an outpost of 99 Ranch, which is great for when you need a whole fish and 25 pounds of rice. This one is not as great as the 99 Ranch in Gardena since it doesn’t have a whole Pocky aisle, but it’s still alright. It’s by the Arby’s.
Finally, we get to the titular subject. What can be said about Fred Meyer for those that have never been to a Fred Meyer? The best way I can succinctly describe it is that it’s a mega-Ralph’s plus a flea market, all under one big roof. Technically it is a hypermarket, which is not a word I had ever heard before. It’s hyper alright. The entry will have various claw games and gumball machines like you’re at a supermarket in 1982. Then, the breadth of the place will hit you and overwhelm you.
You can go to Fred Meyer just for groceries, but then you’d be missing out on the majesty of the place. Do you need eggs and a lawnmower? They’ve got you covered. New underwear, a jigsaw puzzle, and a deli sandwich? Yep. Tired of buying all your jewelry at pawn shops? Take a step up to Fred Meyer Jewelers. They really do have everything: it’s a Ralph’s plus a Target plus a Sears (minus an optometrist) in a building that’s often bigger than a Costco.
It can also feel pretty sketchy, but I suppose that depends on your location. My first visit there made me wonder what the hell I had wandered into, as I could feel the undercurrent of anger among my fellow shoppers. It reminded me of being on the Atlantic City boardwalk. Nobody is happy there, and the guy behind me in line was barking at the checker for missing items while ringing me up. She told him to shut up. The manager was called, he didn’t care. He’s seen it all. I bought my stuff and left without getting stabbed, so I won. Since then I’ve started shopping at a different Fred Meyer and it’s been fine.
In researching this post (yes, I do research) I came across this video telling the story of one Frederick Grubmeyer, who had some big ideas about one-stop shopping. If you’re a dork like me who enjoys old-timey newsreel footage, I recommend watching.
So there you have it. For those of you who will say “you forgot about WinCo/WalMart/Grocery Outlet/etc” know that there’s a difference between forgetting and ignoring. Happy shopping! Please don’t get stabbed at the Fred Meyer.
O.M.F.G. It’s like a Jersey dirt mall…