On Mayonnaise and Melodrama

"Um, so, Zoe, I don't think we're in Virginia anymore. . . . "

I went grocery shopping this morning at an HEB. HEB is a chain of local grocery stores headquartered in San Antonio and, in Austin, it's about as ubiquitous as the cactus plant. Their low-slung red brick buildings dot the dry urban landscape—okay, that's a bit dramatic, isn't it?.  But no, really, it seems like there is one of these stores every few blocks.There's probably an even more local option, but we haven't investigated them yet.

For you folks back home, HEB is kind of like Food Lion, in that their stores are actually grocery-store size rather than, say, shopping mall size. And HEB looks like a grocery store, with fluorescent lighting and linoleum flooring. No frills like track lighting, fancy cheese counters or wine sommeliers, here. No need to linger by the couter of gourmet patisserie-style treats, or stop by the hibachi grill or sushi station.

Nope, just: get in, get what you need and get out. (Though, I'm pretty sure that's not their official advertising slogan.) Shopping at the HEB is refreshingly simple when you want to buy groceries quickly. And my favorite part is that they put all the "alternative food'" (as my friend Sue calls it): like Amy's organic soups, tofu dogs and rennet-free cheese, right on the same aisles as the other stuff. There's no special segregated section for us crunchy-happy granola munchers, unlike certain grocery stores in Virginia.

We live within walking and biking distance of an HEB, and have only been there about six thousand times already. HEB would be perfect except for one thing: they don't sell Duke's Mayonnaise.

[Cue the really sad music. . . something a little bluegrassy. . . maybe with a fiddle. . . .]

 I don't even like mayonnaise, I just tolerate it in things like deviled eggs, and tuna salad. But on the rare occasions that I do buy mayonnaise, I want Duke's. Why? Because that's what my parents bought. It's what they put in their homemade Thousand Island dressing when I was a kid and in the afore-mentioned tuna salad and deviled eggs. And it's what my granny puts on ham sandwiches. Even if I don't like the way mayonnaise tastes, I find that jar with the yellow lid and the black-and-yellow label with the slanted, swirly script, comforting. And HEB doesn't have it.

Duke's is a Southern thing (I think that might actually be their slogan.) But maybe it's just not a Texas thing? (Or just not an HEB thing?) I've been so excited about all the cool things Austin has: (palm trees, cacti, restaurants with vegetarian food) that I haven't really noticed the things that are missing. Until now

And, so, standing in the condiment aisle at HEB this morning, I suddenly felt really homesick. I miss my family and friends, and I miss the undulating blue swells of the Appalachian Mountains – and the reassurance that the artifacts of my persoanl history, like Duke's mayo, are within arm's reach.

Update (4/20/2011): Was at HEB the other day and saw Duke's on an endcap. It reminded me of my grandmother, who passed away in 2009, and made me happy and sad at the same time.