Abstract: Cornwall, New York, has only one grocery store, called the Harvest Market.  It’s run by the Cornwall Community Co-Op, and open to the public Thursday-Sunday. It sells everything.

Cornwall’s not a hugely populous community (although we’re big in talent, and looks, and charitable giving, and patriotism, and open-mindedness, etc., etc.), and we don’t take up too much in resources.  When my family moved here, the power would go out periodically.  That was explained to us by a resigned resident thus: “Well, you know, it’s Cornwall.  Buy a generator.”  We don’t want any trouble, apparently.  (My wife later raised the issue to the state’s Public Service Commission, and they fixed everything.)

But anyway.  We have to eat.

Which is why the sudden closure this spring of the only corporate grocery store in town caused such a stir.  There was apparent mismanagement, on top of heavy competition from larger stores with newer fixtures and better merchandising, located four miles or so up the road, out of town.

Aesthetics aside, people depended on that store, with its comparatively poor selection and drab interior, for basics.  I bought yeast there, and flour.  Senior citizens from a nearby housing development found it convenient.  You could get a roasted chicken if you were in a hurry for dinner (unless they had turned up the temperature in the case too high, and melted the container).  The meat section was a little dodgy-looking, but the ice cream was frozen and the milk fresh.

So, it closed.  And Cornwall is a little outside the Fresh Direct distribution area.  The town’s two or three convenience stores and delicatessens don’t stock much in the way of produce or chicken parts.  As far as most people in town were aware, once Key Food closed, If you needed an onion, you were SOL, or you were trekking up to Vail’s Gate for your onion.

You see where this is going, right?  Drumroll…..THERE IS ANOTHER OPTION!

The Cornwall Community Co-Op’s Harvest Market is now the only grocery store in town.  It’s open to the public Thursday-Sunday.

If you need that onion, we’ve got it.  Also that pork roast.  Corn.  Peaches.  Dish detergent. Rice. Ice cream. Milk. Butter. Eggs. Bread. Cheese. Bacon. Mayonnaise. Ketchup. Crackers. Mac and cheese. Hot dogs. You know — everything.

As one resident—someone who isn’t a member of the Co-o\Op, but recognizes convenience when he sees it—said when he came in a month or so ago, on assignment for his wife, “I’m not going to Vail’s Gate for an onion.”

And neither should you.  Nor for anything else.  We’ve got it all, right here in town, at the only grocery shop in Cornwall.

UPDATE: Recent reports suggest a new store in the old Key Food location around October 1.

My report on our two-week experiment to shop only at the co-op and eat from our freezer and cabinets is overdue.  But, of course, time has blurred the details.  Let me put it this way: we proved it.

I cooked more in those two weeks than I did in the four months before, and we’ve continued the experiment as best we’ve been able.

Organizing the freezer was perhaps the biggest step.  We had various meats from the co-op that seemed like a good idea at the time: a ham steak, sausages, a couple of steaks.  (PS: we almost never eat steak.)  They all ended up on one shelf, and the frozen vegetables, processed foods, and grains ended up on shelves of their own.

“Grains!?” you say.  Yes, grains.  We keep ‘em in the fridge.  Pantry moths, dontcha know.

Anyway, during those two weeks I pulled out the second-hand slow cooker and threw things into it, sautéed lots of onions and garlic, let flavors blend.  We husbanded the beer and the wine; managed to stick to the agreement.  There were a couple-three restaurant meals, or food served to us by friends.  One thing it taught me?  Well-off people with lots of friends have endless access to food; more than we need.  I became more conscious of the excess of food that greets us every day during this really short, non-sacrificial period of co-op shopping.

At the same time, I got ahold of Michael Pollan’s new book, Food Rules.  Yes, I know how stereotypical that is, and I don’t mind.  I fit several stereotypes and am not particularly embarrassed about any of them.  In any case, the book and the co-op shopping experiment aligned.  I became more conscious of how food derives from sunlight, how it comes to our table, how it converts into energy and body mass.  How food is us.

This isn’t the kind of sensibility that just goes away.  Once you know something, you can’t un-know it.  Cooking with fresh, local food is like that.  So we’ve kept it up.  Tonight, for instance, weeks later, we had chicken-sage-garlic sausage stewed with a red onion, a pear, apples, and carrots, atop these adorable little cabbages, braised in red wine and chicken stock.  Those last two ingredients were not from the co-op.  Everything else was.

Is it normal that I sometimes want to actually eat the soil that disgorges these things?

Tell a friend about the Cornwall Community Co-Op today.  Lifetime membership is $150, with a $25 renewal fee the following year and thereafter. Members get a 10% discount, which means you pay off your membership fee in the first year, assuming you do a regular percentage of your shopping at the Co-Op.