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The Supa Supabarn

 

If you’re anything like me, grocery shopping is left until the fridge is bare and the kids are crying. I. Can’t. Stand. It. So on no particular occasion I decided to check out the new shopping precinct in Kingston ‘Eyre Street Market’ for the purpose of coffee – not groceries.

I parked my car in the new underground parking below Supabarn and got a park straight away right next to the entry. Mind blowing right? I’ll say it again … I got a car park… in Kingston… straight away! Without having to stalk or threaten anyone! If that doesn’t play your heartstrings this one will, one hour is free! I unload the toddler and the baby and I head up the escalator with a plan to beeline to the first café I see but before I can get any further I see a barista inside Supabarn next to a sign saying ‘free ice cream for kids’. I consider what tricks Supabarn might be playing to con me into going in; would this be another Ikea prison where customers go in and never come out? I decide to take the risk believing that ice-cream will keep the toddler happy while I drink coffee, and if all goes pear-shaped, the cup holder on the trolley is for wine right?

We enter the gates and are greeted by a stand off hanging bananas which is Mr Two’s cue to make monkey noises for the next five minutes. I manage to steer him on to the ice-cream counter, which is right next to the bakery and coffee. I order a large almond milk latte while I wait for Mr Two to decide on which flavour he wants, which we both know is going to be vanilla but why not just stare at them all for fun anyway right? I take a few blissful sips of my coffee in silence but now Mr Two’s cone is ready. Beautiful, well-meaning ‘Mel’ behind the counter makes the world-ending mistake of personally handing Mr Two the ice-cream and so, the ice-cream is received and immediately thrown on the floor alongside himself.  Lovely ‘no-issues Mel’ just smiles and apologises for speaking to him and goes about her business cleaning the glass of the cabinets ensuring not to make eye contact with Mr Two who’s still lying on the floor in a puddle of tears.

I leave him to do his thing, only worrying that he might be a trip hazard for other customers, and I wander on perusing the hot food and baked goods before winding up in what can only be described as ‘Cheese Heaven’. Cheese was not on my shopping list (not that I came with one) and as far as I was aware, hitherto, I didn’t need any more cheese to befriend my growing collection, but before I can utter ‘holy gouda’ I’m assaulted by an array of cheeses from around the world in all different shapes, sizes and colours paired with matching fruit pastes and roladas. All I can think about is how my ‘Christmas Grazing Table’ Pinterest board is going to be taken to a whole new level.

After clearing out the cheese section I suddenly remember that I own a two year old and peak around the corner to check if his tantrum is over.  He’s still lying on the floor. I watch a polished young man with matching polished Tom Ford shoes carrying pre-packaged rocket salad and organic blueberries step over him, briefly eye off a pistachio croissant and keep walking.

I’m genuinely interested to see how long Mr Two will lie quietly on the floor for given he’s never quiet any other time but I caught a glimpse of a Lindt chocolate wall from the cheese section that I want to get to so I walk back over to him and suggest we make our own pineapple juice. No surprise he bounces straight up and skips over to a machine with a bucket of pineapples next to it. He chooses his ‘favourite’ pineapple and we place it in the machine to turn it into juice. An elderly lady passes us and says “you can’t get much fresher than that”, to which I think; ‘no you can’t, but let be real now – this won’t be consumed by Mr Two but that’s not the point here is it Shirley?’ juicing your own exotic fruit is a game of it’s own.

We continue our shopping with Mr Two; aka ‘Master Juicer’ proudly holding his bottle of personally juiced juice only to be stopped three steps later by an orange juice machine. We repeat the process. I reassure myself of the quality education my son is receiving as I watch time tick away. After arming ourselves with two bottles of juice we can move onto the adult juice section which is bigger than most stand-alone bottle shops and the Lindt chocolate wall is right alongside it. Such a thoughtful layout.

After filling most of my trolley with wine I think I better balance it out with kombucha so I’m happy to find four whole fridges full of every flavour kombucha imaginable including ‘polished Tom ford’ flavour because the man who stepped over my son earlier is basically inside the fridge gathering bottles of gold to accompany his blueberry-rocket salad. We finish the aisles upon aisles of everything we needed (and didn’t) not foregoing the chance to make our own nut butter or grind our own coffee beans from Lonsdale Roasters.

We make it to the check out with a full shopping trolley of everything missing from the fridge and pantry as well as bottles of freshly made juice, ground coffee, almond butter, the twelve days of Gouda cheese, 12 bottles of shiraz, 10 different flavours of kombucha and gourmet pizzas for dinner. Mr Two is nearly asleep from juicing and grinding and Mr Tom Ford who has just checked out is scoffing a pistachio croissant.

Everyone’s happy and my trolley is now packed to the top with shopping bags. It was then that I realised I had accidentally completed the grocery shopping.