I Almost Paid $20 for Betty Crocker

It’s a strange thing the price we will pay for something.  A bottle of water is the physically identical whether it’s sitting in at a store in Minnesota or the Sahara, but I am pretty sure where I’d be willing to pay more for it.

Being abroad makes one reconsider significantly what tastes and media are essential and will be bought at almost whatever price to satisfy a short or long-term need.  It can feel a little absurd sometimes – how much abundance we have of local fair – and yet we all know how cravings work and the mad abilities they have to drive our minds.  When I was in Chicago, surrounded by pizza, I would crave Rudy’s pizza so badly sometimes.  In Hong Kong, it was Mexican food and we would seek it out in the most obscure locations and cook it at home on our little burner.  In HK, we indulged in a weekly People magazine fix.  Brought over to a few special locations it could be found for about $12-15 if I remember correctly.

Sunday, we were running late with some things and realized that all the stores had closed and we were planning to make a cake for Dorothy’s nanny’s birthday. In addition to cake needs, the water in our building was out (and remains so).  So, with few other options, I went down to VIPS.  VIPS is a strange store. I’ll try to summarize with a few simplified references and likenesses for different people in our lives:

• For all our Kansas friends   VIPS = Hastings + Kwik Shop + Hannover’s House of Pancakes 
• For our Chicago friends   VIPS = 7-11 + Borders + Lou Mitchell’s
• For everyone else   VIPS = convenience store + small book store + lunch counter

VIPS had all that I needed and was a block away.  But with the footprint of British colonialism still underlying most of the distribution channels for English-language media and food, I was faced with many more options for sweets and baking things from the U.K. than from the U.S.  Biscuits and Cadbury’s abounded.  But I wanted cake or brownies.  One row of Betty Crocker met my gaze and I immediately grabbed.  It looked perfect.  The brownie mix that I can pick out of a line-up blindfolded.  I only in passing even bothered looked at the price, as this was something I NEEDED.

         15.99€

I stopped cold.  Apparently $20 was my limit for brownies.  I couldn’t do it.  Knowing that I didn’t have vegetable oil and that substituted olive oil was already questionable, knowing that I had no milk to accompany the brownies, and knowing that I still had to bake them, I passed the Betty Crocker by.  Instead I settled on a British brand, surely inferior, but at 7€ and requiring only butter, it seemed a safer bet.

Box in hand, I return to the rental apartment feeling partially victorious, that is until Eric asks, “what are you going to bake those in?”