My Schizophrenic Safeway

When I have a short shopping list or just need to grab some quick sustenance, I head to the Safeway at 57th and Illinois.

As far as groceries go, it's on the cramped, old and cruddy side. It feels like a small town store with a limited selection, lumpy scuffed linoleum, and quirky but friendly cashiers.

Generally, the store offers your garden variety merchandise, but every once in a while you'll come across something completely unexpected, like a patch of violets in a rubble-strewn vacant lot. My latest find was not-from-concentrate blood orange juice, which made for some excellent martinis. They also have a permanent endcap of English and Irish food, such as spotted dick, Cadbury flake and Aero chocolate bars, and Barry's tea (which I previously had to mail order).

It's such an odd juxtaposition. Is one of the owners English or Irish? Do they take speical orders from the neighborhood? Did they do it to compete with the now-defunct Atlas? Whatever the reason, I like it. It keeps me coming back to see what I might find next.