Micah's Read of the Week, Vol. 99
The Utopian Promises of a Discount Grocery Store, New Yorker Cartoon of the Week, Pop Stars on Life After the Spotlight, and more.
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The Utopian Promises and Novelty Cheese of a Discount Grocery Store
The future of grocery shopping might just be a 100-year-old grocery chain with a cult following.
Aldi has a massive following, with a growing presence in the United States, where there are 2,100 stores in 38 states operating, but its popularity is extending worldwide. From hundreds of fan accounts on Instagram to Facebook communities dedicated to following the chain’s limited and sometimes nonsensical food and product drops (called “Aldi Deals” or “Aldi Finds,” small-run items shelved in the middle aisles of the store, which superfans colloquially call the “Aisle Of Shame”), Aldi has generated a coterie of shoppers that seems somewhat misaligned with its aesthetics and overall vibe. However, despite the lack of a soundtrack underscoring your shopping experience, the halls of Aldi are filled with joy and a sense of excitement that is made accessible through its lower price points.
Anna Albrecht opened a small, neighborhood grocery store in 1913 in a suburb of Essen, a city in western Germany.
According to Aldi’s website, “the competition was fierce, so they had to keep prices low.” The discount theme continued when Anna’s two sons, Karl and Theo Albrecht, took over running the store after being conscripted into the German Army in World War II. “Lacking capital, they stocked only a tight selection of home and kitchen staples, such as pasta and soap, planning to widen the offering later,” writes Xan Rice in a Guardian piece about how Aldi—which takes its name from the first two letters of “Albrecht” and “discount”—has transformed grocery shopping in Britain. “But they soon realised that offering a limited selection of cheap, fast-selling goods kept their costs down and the cash flowing, which they could use to invest in new stores.” Unbeknownst to them, they were inventing a whole new category of grocery stores.
One of the only things I knew about Aldi was that it shared a parent company relationship to Trader Joe’s. Or something like that. How’d that happen?
The brothers split their stores geographically: Theo took Aldi Nord, while Karl took Aldi Süd. In the United States, Aldi Süd is simply known as “Aldi,” and the first location opened in Iowa in 1976. Aldi Nord made its expansion into the country in 1979 by acquiring a small, California-based grocery chain called Trader Joe’s. Theo’s Trader Joe’s is like a recognizable but distant sibling of Aldi—although distinctly different, the small details of each store, like their in-house brands and limited selection, reveal a common shared history.
The format of Aldi is notably different from most megastores we’re used to seeing in the United States.
There’s no music; patrons have to “rent” their carts by depositing a quarter; and the store’s limited selection (their stores average about 1,800 SKUs, or individual items, versus many US-based stores that have anywhere between 15,000 and 60,000 SKUs) means that there’s much less variety. Aldi’s stripped-down approach that eschews costly build-outs and cuts out the middleman in some cases means they can offer items at deeply discounted rates. That quarter used to secure a cart means people are more likely to return them rather than leaving them in the parking lot for a grocery attendant to collect—a clear labor savings that is observed over and over in the more than 2,000 stores nationwide.
Some of the joy of shopping at Aldi is making do with the randomness of what’s available.
It’s like the world’s mildest version of the show Chopped, where contestants are given a mystery box of random ingredients and tasked with crafting a dish. For example, you might find dill-flavored chips or Belgian cookies (I went to Aldi just before Mother’s Day, and the store was filled with candy gift boxes and plants) in the Aldi Finds aisle, but you won’t find smoked paprika. Hurt says this has made her a more dexterous cook. During a time when food shortages have become commonplace (remember when we bought all the bucatini?) and cookbook authors are giving permission to home chefs to adapt or even omit certain ingredients, it’s easier than ever to walk out of an Aldi with (almost) everything you need, confident that what you cook will be delicious.
Back to the larger question: why do people love Aldi so much? Perhaps it’s best to take a psychological approach.
In the first chapter of his popular 2004 book, The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less, author and psychologist Barry Schwartz visits the grocery store. “My neighborhood supermarket is not a particularly large store,” he writes, “and yet, next to the crackers were 285 varieties of cookies. Among chocolate chip cookies, there were 21 options.”
An overwhelming array of choices can feel debilitating, something Aldi actively combats with its in-house brands. “When I go to a place like Aldi, the idea of brand loyalty—of brands having to compete for my attention—goes out the window. I almost breathe a sigh of relief,” Gravalese says. “I don’t have to look at eight different brands and compare how they’re different. ‘Why is this one two cents more?’ I love that the decisions are made for me.”
If the joy of shopping at Aldi is built on relief and affordability, it’s kindled by chaos.
5-star review of the week
By now, you know what it is. I am Certified Mortgage Advisor and I want to help people experience home ownership. If you or a co-worker are considering buying a home this year, contact me today. Schedule a risk-free consultation today at micahwiener.com.
New Yorker Cartoon of the Week
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there.
‘That’s it? It’s over? I was 30. What a brutal business’: pop stars on life after the spotlight moves on
Musicians from Bob Geldof to Robbie Williams reveal what they did – and how they felt – after the hits dried up and the crowds vanished
Here’s a fun (or not-so-fun) look at what happens to pop stars after the hits stop coming.
Artists may not always be the best people to operate the heavy machinery of adulthood, but they remain tenacious, driven, and inspirational. They dared to dream, and then went out and made that dream come true.
But falling back down to earth, in this business, is an inescapable certainty. Like sportsmen and women, they peak early. A songwriter once told me, citing Bob Dylan, that “artists tend to write their best songs between the ages of 23 and 27”. So what’s it like, I wondered, to still be doing this “job” at 35, and 52, and beyond? What’s it like to have released your debut album to a global roar, and your 12th to barely a whisper? Why the continued compulsion to create at all, to demand yet more adulation? Frankly, what’s the point?
It was 1990, and by this stage she’d enjoyed huge success for three years. This was no mean feat, because her unadorned acoustic songs stood in direct contrast to the more brash preoccupations of pop in the 80s, a time when Madonna ruled. “But by 1987,” Vega recalls, “every door was open to me, every gig I did sold out.”
And so, in 1990, she announced her most ambitious tour yet. Rather than her usual requirements of an acoustic guitar and a single spotlight, she now had “a set designer, trucks and buses, a crew, a backing band; catering, a backup singer, a woman to do the clothing. This was a big deal for me.”
On the tour’s opening night in New York, the venue was just a third full. “I thought: ‘Where’s the rest of the audience? Maybe they’re still out in the lobby?’”
There was no rest of the audience; they’d already moved on.
Vega’s tour, haemorrhaging money, was cut short. When she arrived back at JFK, she looked out for the car her record label would always send to collect her. But there was no car. Not any more.
“I took a taxi,” she says.
“Would I like another hit?” Vega wonders. “I wouldn’t say no, but I’m not going to chase it.”
Bob Geldolf:
When the Boomtown Rats abruptly reached their dead end in 1985, singer Bob Geldof wasn’t happy. He felt they still had so much more to offer, but it was Duran Duran’s turn now. Geldof slunk home, drew the curtains, “and I thought: ‘That’s it? It’s over? Had the best years of my life already passed? I was 30. What a brutal business pop music is.”
It was during a quiet night in – when, by rights, he should have been straddling a microphone stand on a stage somewhere glamorous and, crucially, far away – that he happened on Michael Buerk’s report from a famine-ravaged Ethiopia on the news. This gave him an unexpected new focus, but here’s the thing: even after feeding the world, and, later, a hugely successful career in business (launching the TV production company Planet 24; investing in tech), all Geldof wanted to do was to go back to music. In 2020, the Boomtown Rats, average age then 66, released a new album.
10,000 Maniacs’ Natalie Merchant:
When Mechant grew tired of being a marketable commodity, she quit for the quieter life of a solo artist, and was then duly horrified when her debut album, 1995’s Tigerlily, sold 5m copies, because “then came the treadmill again”. The next time she tried to retire, she did so more forcefully, and now teaches arts and crafts to underprivileged children in New York state. “I look at people like Bob Dylan and Paul McCartney,” she says, referring to the way both legends continue to tour, “and I think to myself: ‘If I were you, I’d just go home and enjoy my garden.’ It’s a question of temperament, clearly.”
Robbie Williams:
“I felt very driven in the early days, in competition with the world and with myself.” He remains a big draw, of course, but 30 years in, he’s no longer guaranteed hits and is now more likely to be playlisted on Smooth Radio than BBC Radio 1. But that sense of competitiveness never fully recedes. He tells me the new songs he is writing are sounding like David Bowie and Lou Reed, experimental and avant garde, “But do I unashamedly want to still be one of the biggest artists in the world? Yeah, I do.”
And so he, and so many like him, linger in those margins, watchful for other opportunities, biding their time. They judge TV singing competitions and appear on reality shows, and wait for the world to turn slowly on its axis to bring them back into fashion. Eventually, everything comes back into fashion.
The midlife pop star’s best virtue, then, is patience, and the conviction that the best might be yet to come. “I’ve had an interesting first half of my life,” Williams notes. “I’d like an interesting second half, too.”
Recipe Corner
Lemon-Dressed Farro, Tuna and Chickpea Salad
It’s no secret we moved into our new house this weekend. And the weeks leading up to the move have been a combination of clearing out the pantry (read: eating pasta) and eating at our favorite South Austin restaurants. It’s time to clean my act up.
Grated zest of 1 large lemon
5 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (from 2 large lemons)
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Fine salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cup pearled or semi-pearled farro, cooked according to the package directions, then cooled (about 3 cups cooked; see headnote)
1 3/4 cups cooked or canned no-salt-added chickpeas (if using canned, drain and rinse)
6 1/2 to 7 ounces canned, oil-packed light tuna packed, flaked (may substitute water-packed light tuna)
4 ounces sweet onion, such as Maui, Vidalia or Walla Walla, cut into 1/4-inch dice (about 1 cup)
1/4 cup chopped, loosely packed parsley
Whisk together the lemon zest and juice and the oil in a small bowl to form an emulsified dressing. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Combine the cooled farro, chickpeas, tuna, onion, parsley and the lemon dressing in a large bowl. Toss to incorporate. Taste, and adjust the seasoning as needed. For the best flavor, refrigerate for at least 2 hours before serving.
Tomato Salad With Jalapeño Ranch
Long-time readers of this newsletter know there’s nothing I love more than peak tomato szn. Let it begin.
1/2 cup mayonnaise
½ cup plain thick yogurt (such as Greek or labneh)
1 large jalapeño, stem removed
1 tsp. finely grated lime zest
1 tsp. garlic powder
1 tsp. MSG (optional)
½ cup (packed) coarsely chopped chives, plus more for serving
Kosher salt
2½ lb. mixed heirloom or beefsteak tomatoes, halved, cut into wedges if large
2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1 garlic clove, finely grated
Flaky sea salt
Blend mayonnaise, yogurt, jalapeño, lime zest, garlic powder, MSG (if using), and ½ cup chives in a blender until smooth. Taste and season dressing with kosher salt; spoon onto a large plate.
Gently toss tomatoes, oil, and garlic in a large bowl to coat, then arrange on top of dressing. Scatter more chives over and season salad with a large pinch of sea salt.
Did Micah practice yoga this weekend?
No. Moving all weekend. No time for namaste.
That’s 22 in-person weekend classes in 24 weeks this year. Got some ground to make up…
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