i only wear white when it rains

Since I’ve been waiting for the Fresh Market Grand Opening since the razing of Coconut Point, or the plaza formerly offering fried pickles, used golf equipment and plantation shutters, I didn’t bother to check on the actual hours this morning. I just assumed it opened when I got my latte and found a parking spot. So let’s just get out there that I’m pretty confident I crashed a private preview party. Worst-case scenario I whip out my press pass for this blog and they send me to the Sweetbay on MLK.

Perched just before the Martha Stewart Living Fall Edition display of pumpkins and Indian corn outside the entrance, I noticed a woman sporting a black pantsuit roasting like a rotisserie cornish game hen. Judging by the amount of senior citizens flocking around her table like they were at a free cholesterol screening, it was obvious she was giving something away. So I headed over to exchange my (fake Yahoo) email address for a free Fresh Market tote. Don’t be intimidated by the form you fill out because it has those little letter boxes. I can never fit my letters in those little effing boxes either. If it makes you feel any better, there are Jelly Beans in that tote.

Upon entering Fresh Market you will be greeted by a flower display that for the love of Charlie Crist contains no spray-painted carnations. Because it rivals most flower shops in St. Pete (especially those that sprinkle glitter on their roses. ew), it is completely acceptable to buy a bouquet even though you leave for Disney tomorrow and will not return until it is a pile of  potpourri on your dining room table.

Then you’re off to the produce section which delightfully has no flies swirling around piles of bruised nectarines from Mexico. If you forgot your iPod (amateur – biggest shopping faux pas ever), I recommend the following solution for keeping employees from asking you 300 times if you need assistance:

Pantsuit-Wearing Fresh Market Employee: “Miss (okay, whatever, maybe he said Ma’am, I need Botox) – do you need help finding anything?”

Me: “Yes, bananas.” (now make sure you say this as you are putting the bananas in your cart; they will not bother you again.)

Then you’re off to determine whether or not the Fresh Market produce is nuclear or just on steroids. The honeycrisp apples would pass for shiny red Priuses in the parking lot, the Portabella mushroom caps could double as umbrellas, and the strawberries are so big they require diving boards above swimming pools of chocolate for dipping. I felt a bit like Alice after she shrank to fit through the keyhole. I couldn’t tell if I should be excited about asparagus that big or a little scared?

Past the produce section you’ll find the seafood counter where en croute Chilean seabass awaits you for $22.99 a pound. As my good friend Patty Melt suggests, “Don’t practice being poor until you have to, honey.” (Patty’s alimony runs out next month). So I filled my cart with coconut-crusted shrimp, lobster cakes (this is Fresh Market – crabcakes are so Publix) and pecan-crusted trout filets. I will eat none of this, but I do feel good about stimulating the economy.

I skipped right over the bakery because just glancing at the four-inch peak of frosting on the Halloween cupcakes caused my pancreas to pump out a painful amount of insulin. Likewise, I avoided the colorful melange of olives at the olive bar because I knew spending too much time there would cause my hair to smell like Falafel King. I passed by many foods I could not identify, which made me feel a longing to eat something other than oatmeal from Starbucks. I want to eat Lingonberries too! Or at the very least know what they are.

As I headed back to the refrigerator section comprised of enough yogurt to completely eradicate yeast infections, I noticed a unique feature which promises to keep Lucas Lightning Jackleg-Montalban a regular customer: the “Create Your Own 6-pack”  display. He can then head over to the $3.99 a-pound ale nuts container and have his grocery shopping done for the week. Does Fresh Market stock toiletries? Natch. In fact, Mr. Jackleg-Montalban can now get away with a #7 (not showering after a night of Yuengling and bad judgment) by drinking Republic of Tea’s “Get Clean” tea (see below). And if he ever decides to woo (or roofie) women with wine not from a box, Fresh Market has a small, but respectable selection from which to choose. Sadly, no Caymus.

In summary, Fresh Market promises to make Publix look like an inner-city soup kitchen. The fact that they stock Alexia Julienne fries with seasalt is reason enough to go. Just remember your iPod.

How Fresh Market ensures you never bring your kids here

For when you were too drunk to shower (#7)

And perhaps the most compelling reason to shop here

Sadly, this does not work as a cupholder for your latte

I'm pretty sure at Sweetbay this is just "onion relish"

These paninis will make you feel like total white trash for waiting in the Publix sub line

Um, Fresh Market? I don't cook.

Where you'll find Lucas Lightning Jackleg-Montalban