Plastic food

When I was a little girl, I had a miniature kitchen. The refrigerator came fully stocked. There were fake boxes of cereal, Gerber baby oatmeal, and Ritz Crackers. There was a plastic bottle of ketchup and two plastic hot dogs. There was a little plastic pile of peas, all stuck together, and a plastic egg, dented at the top.

Sometimes, and especially when I am forced to shop somewhere new, I feel like I am filling the cart with that same pretend food. It struck me, as I tried to navigate a different place, examining the unfamiliar brands to figure out what might be the closest match to my regular favorites, that almost everything is wrapped in plastic. I can't touch it, taste it, or even smell it. My bag of frozen peas might as well be plastic, all stuck together.

I suppose that would be all well and good, except my baby dolls are real little people and those dented stuck together unscented globs of food just don't cut it.