Making friends over garlic

Last week I was at the grocery store. It was supposed to be a quick dash in and out kind of a trip. I only was needing a few last minute items to make paella and yes, I wasn’t planning on eating it alone. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about see my earlier post – ‘Come to my house for paella’ 1/5/19) So I head over to grab a head of garlic and encounter a problem. There’s a young women – maybe 19 to 20 years old -blocking my way. She’s standing there with a perplexed look on her face, in one hand a head of large garlic and in the other one of those boxes with two smaller heads. Pausing for a moment, I’m debating what to do. Grab the garlic and run? Politely ask her if she needs help? And then she asks me what’s the difference between the two garlics besides price. Uhm, okay, now I’m sucked into her world for a moment unless I want to be really rude. Fine, I give her some vague answer about how I think the larger one has a better flavor but that may be because I grate or chop it because the cloves don’t fit into my garlic press. Oh no, now she looks like she’s going to cry. What in heavens name did I say that was so bad? She half chokes out, “What’s a garlic press?” This is when I know my day has just gone completely sideways all because I dared to enter the produce section. Because there is no way I can leave this poor girl in this state. Nope, I have now got to get to the bottom of why in the world she’s trying to buy garlic when it’s plain she have no clue what she’s doing. After some gentle probing on my part, her whole sob story comes out – and I do mean sob. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone crying so much over garlic before. Onions sure. Garlic, no, not so much. Turns out she was raised by a single mom who worked several jobs and felt home cooking was throwing something in a microwave. The poor girl’s boyfriend, on the other hand, was raised by a stay-at-home gourmet chef. Yikes. Thus, here she was trying to impress her boyfriend by making a meal instead of bringing takeout for a change. Seems the internet had not been as helpful as she had thought it was. This I can fix – I can’t save the world but I can save this meal for her. I give her a few pointers as we walked through the store getting what she needed, including a few substitutes to make things easier (chopped garlic in a jar). We go through the checkout together and I give her my number. Never in a million years did I figure she would ever call or text me. She had her humiliating meltdown in a store in front of me – why would she want a reminder of that? However, to my

surprise, yesterday, I get a text ‘Hey, this is supermarket girl. Remember? Can we meet in a few for coffee?’ Whoa, like I would forget that encounter? Of course, I agree. When I get there, she jumps up from her seat and rushes over to me, gives me a big hug. Uhm, okay. We then spend a happy 30 minutes or so chatting about how wonderful her meal with her boyfriend had gone. Awesome. She then asks if we can stay in touch. Sure, fine, I always wanted to have more children. Then, as we are getting up to leave, she pulls a small box out of her bag. “Don’t open it until you get home.” She says with a laugh. I thank her, curious at what in the world she’s given me. The instant I get home, I open the box. What in the world? It’s a head of garlic. Seriously, a head of garlic. I’m not sure if it’s payment for services rendered, a thank-you gift or a joke…