If you thought it was frivolous of me to leave a stable relationship over a few fresh, stiff ribs of celery, you were right. But when I tell you what happened next you will understand. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you really need to go back and read Part 1 of this saga. You should also read my post, I didn't do it, partly because it has to do with Kroger but mostly because I think it is my best post yet.

As enchanting as the celery experience described in Part 1 was, it turned out it was just foreplay. I left the produce area still feeling a little giddy, but with a single-minded purpose to buy a piece of salmon to grill for dinner. I had already chosen the recipe, which is one I have made many times before, and which always receives high praise, even from my sisters. It is Grilled Salmon with White Bean and Arugula Salad and the recipe is originally from Cooking Light, my go-to source for delicious food when we are trying to watch our weight, which is all the time. As a matter of fact, Cooking Light magazine is the only print magazine I still subscribe to, and I think that speaks volumes about how much I love that magazine, and should be enough to make someone at Cooking Light want to get in touch with me about advertising in my blog.

"Would you like that oven-ready?" Five words that would change my life.

The fish monger was waiting for me when I arrived at the fish counter. I didn't have to ring a bell or cool my heels while he finished serving another customer. He was utterly and completely devoted to serving me. I pointed to the particular piece of salmon I wanted, asking him if he agreed that it was about 3/4 of a pound. He weighed it and it was. He flattered me, saying, "You have a good eye." I blushed and blubbered back something about how I could never work a butcher or fish counter, or even a cheese counter for that matter, because I would be deathly afraid of cutting a piece too small, ruining the whole thing and having to start over. And I wasn't just trying to flatter him back, although there was a hint of flirtation in the comment. This is something I think about every time I watch a butcher cut an expensive piece of meat. It is a talent borne of experience and I expect you will be reminded of this the next time you bring home an enormous tenderloin from Costco and are terrified by the prospect of cutting it into steaks.

As he was preparing to package my salmon steak he paused, looked me straight in the eye and asked, "Would you like that oven-ready?" Five words (oven-ready is hyphenated, so I think it counts as one) that would change my life. I was dismissive at first, as I have been so many times before when presented with unfamiliar options. I'm a rule-follower and my recipe was for grilled salmon. Or was it? Maybe I had been grilling the salmon all along just because Tony doesn't like the smell of fish cooked in the house. What if this oven-ready option made it so I could bake the fish and it wouldn't stink up the kitchen? I felt a little dizzy as I asked for an explanation of the process, but eventually became so excited that I took pictures in order to be able to document it for you, my loyal readers.

Kroger's Easy for You! Oven-Ready Seafood

The instructions are right there on the wall at the fish counter, plain as day, but I had never seen them. If not for the clever sales pitch of a Kroger associate, I would still be preparing fish the old-fashioned way today.

First you choose your seafood, then they weigh it and hold on to the sticker. In other words, you don't get charged for all the add-ins you put in the baking bag. They are all included for free, as a customer service. You choose seasonings and garnishes from the charming display they have right there in the fish case. I bet tons of you, just like me, had never noticed this beautiful spread before. It includes fish-loving accompaniments like slices of lemon and lime, savory herbs like rosemary, dill and cilantro and icy-cold pats of butter.

The beautiful display of fish-loving garnishes.

The fish monger lovingly sprinkles the fish with your selected seasoning and places it in a baking bag along with your chosen garnishes. Mine were lemon pepper, dill, lemon slices and, of course, butter. Two pats. Then he seals the bag with a special bag sealing machine. He puts the reserved label on the bag, then holds it up for you to take a picture of him and the glorious life-changing packet of fish. Then he hands it to you as you blubber about how this will change your life and promise to see him regularly in the future. You refer to yourself, somewhat self-consciously, as a blogger. You have never called yourself that before and you worry that it sounds like you have some big blog with millions of followers when, in fact, you only started blogging 3 weeks ago and have exactly 29 subscribers. But then you figure, Hey, what does he know? and head for the self-checkout station that you are sure will NOT be supervised by the Harris Teeter bitch soviet bloc weight lifter wannabe who so rudely entered your mangoes without permission.

Note that your experiences may differ slightly from my own but, in the end, the fish is fantastic. The instructions are on the bag, you cook it, you cut open the bag, you eat it. Throw the bag away. No muss, no fuss, no smell. This is not an infatuation. This is the real deal.

My grocery store love affair - Part 2

Kroger's Easy for You! Oven-Ready Seafood