A/N: So, the 1930s were the birth of many food innovations we take for granted. Cake mixes, frozen food, breakfast cereal and a lot of brand names are that old or older. (Coke was introduced in 1886 and Budweiser in 1876 and Oreos in 1912.) But Steve was really poor in those days: single mother, sickly kid, Great Depression. They ate the cheapest food — seasonal vegetables, home-canned vegetables, bruised fruit, day-old bread and tougher cuts of meat meant for stewing. He's used to boiling everything and baking from scratch. The Barnes family seemed to be better off by the time Steve's mother died. (They wanted to drive him to the cemetery, so they must have had a car.) But I'm saying Mrs. Barnes still didn't waste money in the kitchen. — one of the reasons the family was prospering. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Checking Out
Up and down the aisles they went, pushing their two carts and piling them high.
Canned food was old hat to Steve. Leslie picked up regular and low sodium green beans, just to see whether he could taste the difference and whether the difference mattered to him. Steve tossed a can of Spam into the cart.
"Soldiers made fun of it, but it was so much better than C Rations," Steve said.
"People still make fun of it," Leslie replied. "But they still eat it, too."
Condiments came next. "We need catsup and mustard for the hotdogs and barbecue sauce for the ribs," Steve said, collecting all those items as he recited them. Leslie added mayonnaise, pickles and pickle relish to the list.
Moving through the store, Leslie made sure to pick up a large size peanut butter and some strawberry jam. Steve chose orange marmalade, with a smile that made Leslie suspect he was thinking about Peggy again. He'd picked out oranges, orange scones and orange marmalade. She sensed a theme.
She didn't want to get too many spices at once. There were so many to choose from. She took a packet of slow cooker beef stew seasoning and containers of garlic salt and cinnamon. Steve looked at the bewildering selection and just shrugged. "Salt and pepper is all I really know."
"Good thought!" There were salt and pepper shakers in the apartment, but no refills. Leslie remedied that.
In the beer section, Leslie asked Steve, "Do you want something?"
"I can't get drunk," Steve said a little glumly.
Leslie punched him in the shoulder, which hurt her hand a lot more than it hurt Steve.
"You shouldn't drink to get drunk!" She scolded. "You drink to enjoy the flavor and be companionable."
"I tried to get drunk after Bucky died, but I couldn't," Steve answered.
Leslie hugged him as hard as she'd slugged him. "It doesn't help," she said into his chest. "Maybe you can forget for awhile, but the next morning you're still grieving and you have a headache."
"It sounds like you have experience," Steve said.
"A friend died when I was in the service. Not in a war, because actually we weren't fighting anyone right then. He died in an accident, because someone else made a stupid mistake."
Steve returned her hug. Leslie held it for a minute, then pushed Steve away. "Stop making a scene in the middle of the beer aisle," she rebuked humorously. "Pick out something."
Steve regarded the myriad choices. He could go for something familiar, like Budweiser, but he told Leslie he'd like to try something different. "Pick for me?"
"Hmm, how about a little Kona beer. It's made in Hawaii. Oh, and Hawaii is a state now. Hawaii and Alaska were admitted in 1959. There are 50 stars on the flag now."
"I thought something looked odd about the flag, but I only saw it at a distance on one of the buildings," Steve said. That the two territories were now states wasn't a major shock. If anything, Steve was proud Hawaii had recovered so well from the wartime attack.
Coffee and tea were around the corner from the beer. Leslie needed tea bags for her morning fix. Steve was surprised to see flavored coffees, but stuck with a familiar brand of medium roast.
Soft drinks and bottled water were one aisle over.
"You buy water?" Steve was incredulous. Leslie tried to explain, but then just shrugged. It didn't make a lot of sense when New York had excellent water.
"We don't have to buy it. Pick out a soft drink, if you want." Coke and root beer went into the cart.
Cookies and snacks were across from the sodas.
"I liked Oreos," Steve said, picking up the familiar cookies. "Only had them for a special treat. Most of our cookies came from Ma or Mrs. Barnes or one of the neighbors baking."
"Get two flavors," Leslie suggested, so they got regular and golden Oreos.
Then they got potato chips and pretzels, too. Because you need something to go with the hotdogs, Leslie said.
Steve grinned suddenly and pounced on a bag of Cracker Jack. "They used to come in boxes," he said.
"I remember," she said. "But they still have a prize inside. I think I still have a plastic whistle I got when I was a kid."
The twosome went methodically through all the aisles, even the ones with pet food and cleaning supplies, which they didn't need. The apartment had been well stocked with cleaners and cleaning tools like sponges. Leslie did talk about disposables such as paper towels and disinfecting wipes.
"People throw away a lot of stuff these days," Steve said. He came from fix it and reuse it time.
"You don't know the half to it," Leslie said. "Packaging got to be a big problem." She showed him two small light bulbs in a blister pack as long as her arm. "The big packages help prevent theft, but it all goes into the trash when you get home. We're getting better, though. 'Reduce, reuse and recycle' is a slogan today. The plastic and cardboard in this blister pack can both be broken down and turned into something else."
That suited Steve's thrifty soul.
In the dairy section, Leslie started to pull out two half-gallon jugs of whole milk, but Steve quickly took them from her. He carefully pushed cereal boxes aside to make space for the heavy jugs. Leslie added a quart carton of lactose-free 1 percent milk for herself.
"OK, lecture mode," she said brightly. She pointed out all the variations of fat free, 1 percent, 2 percent and whole milk, plus almond, soy, rice and other nondairy brands, some with flavors.
"And there are similar choices in the other dairy products, such as butter, margarine, sour cream and yogurt."
Steve was curious about the many types and flavors of yogurt, which Leslie couldn't really explain without making sour, fermented milk sound like something that should be thrown out. "Take a few to sample," she suggested.
Because Steve seemed to favor orange, she pointed out several citrus flavors. He ended up with an armful that included caramel, vanilla and one with pretzel pieces, in addition to a number of fruit flavors.
"Is that too many?" he wondered. "What if I don't like it?"
"Knowing you, you'd eat it anyway," Leslie answered. "Or I'll eat it. Or I'll take it to work and people there will eat it. Don't worry. It won't go to waste."
Even eggs came in varieties. Fortunately, inside the cartons, they still looked like eggs. Leslie checked every egg of two 18-egg cartons. She touched each one and jiggled it, telling Steve if one didn't move, it was probably cracked and stuck to the bottom. "If any are broken, put the carton back and try another one."
Leslie always went to the frozen foods last, so her purchases wouldn't melt, which made sense to Steve.
As they turned the corner into the frozen foods section, Steve said, "You know, they made home refrigerators before the war."
"I didn't know that," Leslie said. "I thought they came later."
"No, they came out in the 1930s. We couldn't afford anything like that. Ma was raising a sick kid by herself, so we never had a lot to spare, but Mr. Barnes talked about getting one. Mrs. Barnes put her foot down and said she wouldn't have one in her house."
"Really? Why?"
"Sometimes they leaked poisonous gas. People got sick, maybe even died. Mrs. Barnes said ice boxes were safer."
"I didn't know that. I've never heard of that happening in my time," Leslie reassured him. "They must have found safer chemicals for coolant."
"I'm sure. I just didn't want you to think I'm a total hick, never hearing about refrigerators and frozen food," Steve said bashfully.
"I never would," Leslie assured him. "I apologize for my ignorance. Just tell me if I'm explaining too much."
"Nothing to apologize for. We're pals, right?"
"We're family, nephew," Leslie reminded him and they shared a smile.
Leslie watched him closely when they got to the chilly section. She'd been warned he might be sensitive to the cold. When they passed a woman opening a freezer door, Steve shivered but forged ahead bravely.
As usual, Leslie described the variety in the section. "It has everything from complete meals to frozen vegetables to fancy desserts."
They started with the vegetables. Leslie collected a bag of Tater Tots, a package of frozen spinach and a bag of frozen chopped onions. Just to show Steve what they were like, Leslie got one frozen dinner — Steve's choice, Salisbury steak.
The doors were frosted over with condensation, so Leslie had to hold them open to find her selections. Steve stepped out of the direct line of the doors every time they opened.
"You OK?" Leslie asked.
He straightened his shoulders. "I'm fine," he said, and Leslie could tell it was a lie. She decided to hurry.
"There's a lot of pizza here," Steve commented.
"Frozen pizza isn't bad when you're too busy to go out, but I want to start you right. New York has some marvelous pizzerias," Leslie said.
"Really?"
"Yes, GIs coming back from Italy — maybe some of your friends — brought a taste for pizza. It became very popular after the war."
"I can understand that," Steve said. "It was simple, but so good."
"And here are desserts," Leslie said. "Frozen pies or just pie crust if you want to make your own. And ice creeeeam."
"Oh, Good Humor bars!" Steve almost squealed.
"Anything you want," Leslie reminded him.
She bought cartons of vanilla bean and caramel fudge swirl ice cream and a two-slice package of key lime pie, because she thought Steve might like it.
"What do you know, we're done!" Leslie cheered.
They escaped from the freezer section and went to the checkout line. Their two full carts attracted attention that made Leslie wince.
"You OK?" Steve muttered.
"I'm not supposed to attract undue attention," she answered.
Steve pulled out his captain expression and surveyed the room. People dropped their eyes and turned back to their shopping and their cellphones.
"No attention now," he reported.
In her discussion about labels, Leslie had explained about bar codes and scanners.
Steve watched in fascination as the checker slid items across the glass and numbers added up on the screen, but when they moved to the second cart overflowing with food, Steve began to fidget, as the total mounted.
"It's too much," he whispered hoarsely.
It was an alarming amount, even to Leslie. She knew it seemed like a fortune to Steve. Aware of the watching checker and bagger, she caught Steve's anxious face between her hands. "Steve, you just just got back into town. Your cupboards are empty. Let us do this for you. Your Uncle Nick and I can afford it."
Steve looked tearful at Leslie's kindly words, but his expression grew more complicated when he processed "Uncle Nick."
"Thank you, Aunt Leslie," he said in a voice choked with emotion (suppressed laughter).
Leslie patted his cheek and handed over the SHIELD-backed credit card. The checker and bagger beamed at the loving gesture.
"Do you need help out?" the bagger asked.
A funny expression crossed Leslie's face, but she chuckled and patted her "nephew's" muscular arm. "No, we can handle it."
They pushed the two carts into the store's foyer, what the Californian always thought of as the air lock to keep winter winds from blowing straight into the store. Leslie put out her hand to stop Steve from exiting.
"I'm such an idiot," she said matter-of-factly. "We walked here. How are we going to get all this home?"
A/N: Oops. The author forgot something. Leslie will figure it out.
I learned about the refrigerator coolant leaks on "Mysteries at the Museum."