At Hy-Vee or Brown’s County Market, I can often find a good melon. Especially in August. We grow them around here.
But I’ve never seen prosciutto at Brown’s before. For a split second, I think about taking all six packages on the shelf.
Be the change you want to see in the world, right?
I’ve totally forgotten why I came to the store now. All I’m thinking about is my paper-thin slice of prosciutto with some melon and a glass of wine.
The cashier looks tired. And now she’s annoyed because my prosciutto has no price tag.
— Ma’am, you wouldn’t happen know the price on this, would you?
— Uh, no, sorry, no, I don’t.
The boy who bags groceries will have to ask the manager. I’ll have more conversation with the cashier than I expected.
— So, what is this stuff anyway?
— It’s a kind of ham. Sort of.
— Yeah? Is it any good?
— It’s delicious. Especially with melon.
— Seriously? With melon?
— Sure, you like ham and pineapple, don’t you?
The grocery bagger hollers: SEVEN DOLLARS AND NINETY-FIVE CENTS.
— $7.95? That’s not much ham for $7.95. You sure you still want it? I can put it back on the shelf for you.
— No, no I’ll take it. It sounds expensive, I know, but you only need a little bit of it.
— Really, it’s that filling? It plumps up when you cook it, I guess, huh?
It plumps up when you cook it. That’s the line that gets a laugh at my kitchen table over a glass of wine, if this is a story about provincial Midwesterners who don’t know what prosciutto is.