REVIEW: Whole Foods Market

I do most of my shopping at Whole Foods Market. Because of this, I’ve heard a lot of comments like, “Oh, Whole Foods is so corporate, I only go to co-ops”. And if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard someone say, “Whole Paycheck”, I’d be in my own personal treehouse in Fiji right now.

Honestly, people, let’s stop the madness. Whole Foods is a great store, and their prices aren’t any worse than your neighborhood co-op. Actually, with all the price checking I’ve done, I can personally say that due to Whole Foods being able to purchase so much at once, their prices are better across the board. And if Whole Foods weren’t so “corporate”, how could they support so many companies doing the right thing?

I get the desire to support the little guy, really I do. In fact, I’ve been known to frequent our own little neighborhood natural foods co-op on occasion. But honestly, there’s nothing like walking into a Whole Foods and being greeted by rows of fresh produce so beautiful that I cry a little.

This past weekend, I had one of those instances where it was much faster to make a run to our neighborhood co-op (which will remain unnamed) than go to our Whole Foods. We were making a meal, and we needed a few things. So I pulled into the parking lot, and was greeted by a staircase full of stoned-looking, dread-headed, neo-hippies whose parents probably work for tech companies and gave them everything they wanted since they were born. Now, REAL hippies would have been fine. If the entrance stairs had been full of middle-aged dudes and dudettes who were ACTUALLY stoned and who grew up eating homemade granola at a commune in Oregon, I’d have been fine with that.

Once inside, I maneuvered the small dingy aisles with my little shopping cart that was barely functional to find products that were at least a dollar each more expensive than at Whole Foods. They sell no meat at this particular store, because meat is murder, didn’t you know? When I got up to the checkout counter, the guy who rang up my items was yet ANOTHER self-righteous fake-hippie-type who gave me looks for buying dairy products, like I was personally responsible for all the problems in the world. I considered telling him I was going home to eat a meal of murdered cow that I clubbed myself with a log, but I restrained myself.

So, today I’m going to Whole Foods, where I will apologize for cheating on it and rekindle our love affair. The butcher behind the meat counter (ahh, I’m home) will tell me the best way to make roast beef when I ask. The produce section will have multiple types of parsley to choose from, and the price I will pay for my bag of loose yerba maté will be a dollar cheaper than the bag I bought over the weekend. The floors will be clean, my shampoo will be in stock, and when I can’t find something, a team member will gladly take me to the product my heart so desires. And when I walk the aisles of the store, they will be full of samples. And who doesn’t like samples?

To find the Whole Foods store nearest you, click here.