Hello, Hy-Vee

The time has come to address the burning issue of our day. It’s more vital than my opinion of Hamas, and more pressing than my take on the vote on the tax increase to fund Kansas City’s sports complex.

I’ve switched grocery stores. I’m now a Hy-Vee man.

For the past couple years I’ve roamed the wide aisles of my neighborhood Price Chopper. The guys behind the butcher counter give me new recipe ideas and sports predictions. The cashiers know that I’m not up for small talk. The store manager has learned to quickly trot the other way when he spots me. Everyone’s happy and no one gets hurt.

I also frequent the revamped Price Chopper in Roeland Park. It offers Mexican cookies and chorizo, and I love seeing produce that leaves me scratching my head, such as the prickly green fruit pictured. It's so dangerous that tongs are provided to handle it.

I’ve never cared for my local Hen House. It’s so upscale that it sometimes feels like an Easter parade fashion show. It’s congested, the prices are high and the lines are long. Additionally, a good portion of my household’s budget goes to Whole Foods, but I personally manage to avoid both it and Wild Oats.

Yet for the past few weeks, I’ve forsaken them for Hy-Vee. Even though it’s a bit out of the way, I’m thrilled by its cheap fruits, wide selection, enormous health food area, and best of all, the absence of an Orwellian shopper card.