It was a ramshackle old, unpainted frame building and I used to love to go there because there were big barrels of black beans that you could jam your arms into and feel the neat sensation of thousands of the hard, dry little beans on your skin. The place smelled of Cuban spices, fresh-ground espresso coffee, and the Spanish chorizo sausages that hung in garlands about the place. Everything was bought by weight, so there was a big scale in the corner you could shovel the amount you wanted up with a big metal scoop(it was all on the honor system). The beans and rice made a neat sound when you scooped them up from the barrels and poured them into the metal tray of the scale. All the loose items were placed in individual paper bags or wrapped in wax paper and then placed in a cardboard box to take home. The grocer (I remember he wore a big, spotlessly clean white apron) would add up the cost of your order and enter it into a big ledger, and into a little notebook Mom carried in her purse, and on payday we would settle up the bill.

They delivered, too! If Mom couldn’t make it, they sent one of the neighborhood urchins with our food and we would give him a tip for his trouble. We would trust the grocer to get the credit right. But I soon was big enough to be honored with the task of doing the shopping (and safeguarding the little credit record book). A typical order would be a pound each of lard, sugar, rice, beans, coffee, salt, some plantains and yucca, and a few refrigerated items and canned goods. Meat, fish and poultry we got at the butcher shop and fishmonger’s. And there was a baker we stopped at daily for fresh, home-baked Cuban bread.

I’m not just writing this all down as a nostalgia trip, but to reflect on the “progress” reflected in Eri’s post. I also wonder if the new technology, when you add up all the intangibles, is really more economic, efficient, and convenient than the corner grocer. For one thing, the place always seemed empty.
You never had to stand in line to check out.