Foraging

Grocery shopping, as mundane as it is, is one of the last vestiges of foraging behaviors we still engage in. (Garage sales might be a similar activity, but with fewer fruits and vegetables.) It gives us a regular opportunity to consider what to eat, select it and then bring it home. We are extremely well-adapted to these activities because it is the first job humans ever had: we’ve always foraged for food.

Ten thousand years ago we would have learned from our parents and extended family where to find and how to select good root vegetables by carefully examining the leaves and stems. It’s a little different now, of course. In addition to trying to figure out if a mango is too ripe or which bunch of cilantro is better, we might also read labels: searching for information about nutrition or additives; or if there’s a free prize inside; or if these tostadas are the right kind because the ones without any damn salt don’t taste nearly as good.

And while we don’t have to cover nearly as much terrain, we do have to walk up and down the aisles. If it’s a relatively small list, the baskets give us the chance to actually carry our selections around the store instead of pushing them about in carts. And we have to heave the bags into our trunks or schlep them with us onto the bus. Depending on where you live, you may have four flights of stairs to carry them up. Grocery shopping can be pretty physical, despite some modern advances.

In this case, the things “we’ve always done” aren’t just tradition—they’re more important than that. They represent successful evolutionary adaptations; critical to the survival of the species. They connect us with our bodies and our environment. They give us opportunities to become more like ourselves. Besides, who doesn’t love the thrill of finding a great deal on fresh pineapples?