She steps in, inhales deeply, then does it again. And then again.
W and I order wines for us and our guests as we stand in this store's entrance, surrounded by boxes of tomatoes, onions, cantaloupes, and more. Bags of fresh basil lay open for shoppers to tear off the quantity they need.
We are at Jimmy's Food Store, an Italian market and a Dallas icon. Three generations I think, in an old East Dallas neighborhood which is these days one of the city's most eclectic; little homes in disrepair but with front yard rose bushes in full bloom sit among new and sterile half-million dollar condos.
Our friends begin to mosey down the first aisle which is stocked with anchovies and capers to soup mixes and dried beans, the row ending with many sweet treats. They chose a box of amaretti cookies to begin filling their extra suitcase, having planned ahead with the safe bet that there would be goodies galore from this trip to Dallas.
Joe and Helen live in a small town in Oregon, biscotti and such no where to be found. I left them for a while, collecting my usual choices: Italian cheeses, dried pastas, canned tomatoes, wine, and when I returned to them it was much like that afternoon with Annie. W and I were giving Annie a similar introductory tour of Eataly, an Italian emporium in Dallas' glitziest mall. Breezy left us in the produce section to go sketch as she likes to do, and when she returned some twenty minutes later, Annie and I had moved only a few feet. That was the case with Joe and Helen. Made my heart so happy!
We went on to peruse every shelf and every item, circling back to some a few times. Wise purchases were made by them of non-perishables: wine to be consumed here, and pastas, truffle condiments, jams, to be gifted and consumed back home.
If you get Jimmy's, you get it. It is Ground Zero for those of us who do. So, it was no surprise that standing in the old grocery somewhere between the espresso cans and the jars of Mostarda, we made plans to build a large antipasti board for our last night together.
Loading up the car, Helen talked about the smell of the market and how she wished she could take it with her. I grabbed her hand and dragged her back into the store where she, for one more time, sucked in deeply to savor the combination of scents: fruits, garlic, grilled meat sandwiches, cheese, coffee, and likely the aroma from a few long ago broken bottles of wine.
I didn't care how silly we looked. It was a moment in time that I will cherish forever.
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