I headed for the soups aisle.  My dad, who taught me to cook, had been a huge proponent of always making one’s own stocks from scratch.  But I knew there would be no time for that.  I needed both vegetable and beef broths, and I wanted them to be rich and flavorful–without turning my guests’ blood to sodium-saturated sludge.  My eyes came to rest upon on a label that read “culinary-quality.”  A rather simple and unadorned label.  I figured it must be the kind of thing where all of the serious foodies knew that was the real deal if you were too busy or disorganized to make stock.  No flashy labeling or celebrity chef names necessary.  No horrifying sodium levels.  Into the cart it went–2 quarts worth for $6.50.

1 can garbanzo beans.  I don’t care what “culinary-quality” labels I might spot this time.  It’s Goya all the way, baby.  Wow–and I even found it amongst all of the other canned beans.  Not in a silly “Hispanic Foods” corner of the store. Well done, Wegman’s!  (Quick aside:  food segregation always kind of ticks me off, especially in my shamefully non-diverse Loudoun County world.  Let the adobo and garbanzos mix freely with Mrs. Dash and the blackeye peas please.)

1 box small pasta, such as ditalini, orzo, or tubettini.  No idea what tubettini is, but I’m thinking orzo is what my soup needs anyway.  And so I march off to the pasta aisle.   Oooooh, floor to ceiling pasta.  Brands I’ve never heard of.  Three different kinds of orzo.  Barilla will do very nicely, thank you.

Now that I have all of my soup ingredients (oh, and a couple of firm, crusty, perfect French batard loaves from the bakery), it is time to address that “something-wonderful-and-special” promise I made myself on the way into the store.  I look at the prepared foods–the sushi, the roasted vegetable salads, the various shrimp cocktail arrangements.  But that’s not really what I’m after.  I am making a satisfying one-pot meal…I just need something to add a bit of zing.  Restaurant-quality zing.  Without being overpowering or filling.

I examine the cheeses in the cheese island.  Interesting…with some names I have never heard of.  But there are the old stand-by’s too.  Smoked gouda–no, that would go better with a tomato-based soup.  Havarti–too buttery and filling, I think.  Oh, chevre.  Yummmmmmm.  When have I ever had chevre that I did not think it was a delightful complement to the rest of the meal?  Chevre with fig…oh, my mouth begins to water.  Yes, the perfect bit of creaminess and sweetness on a crispy-bland table water cracker.  Spread with one of my adorable little Santa spreaders.  Two logs of figgy chevre go into my cart, and I head toward the wine department singing happily under my breath, “Bring us some figgy pudding, now bring us some figgy pudding!”

Next installment:  the helpful Wegman’s vintner and glittering wine-glass charms that I’ve been wanting for the longest time.

See for yourself!

By the way, if the thought of making such a recipe trek through Wegman’s just makes you feel tired, keep in mind that that is the very sort of thing Presto Pink delights in doing for busy DC-area (Northern Virginia) folks.  Visit the site and inquire about some grocery shopping assistance.