WHAT'S ALL THE FUSS ABOUT WHOLE FOODS?
Harrods In Sandals And Sackcloth

Having just left the Whole Food Emporium in the old Derry and Tom's Department Store on Kensington High Street, I am thinking, 'What's all the fuss about?' I don't buy into the ‘whole food universe' idea, birth to death, in one shopping experience. Whole Foods is Harrods in sandals and sackcloth. I don't want to be born there, or to be cremated there. I don't really want to look at 100 brands of organic baby shampoo when I'm in a hurry to find avocados for dinner. I felt trapped, especially in the elevator, a confusing machine that doesn't tell you Up from Down. ‘Too cute by half,' I thought as I was forced to travel up and down several times without any idea where ‘Ground Floor' could be found. This was an unnecessary annoyance, like a confusing ultra-modern shower that ends up burning you. (How I long for the old hot and cold taps.) And I'm not so advanced in age that I can't operate an elevator. Actually, I haven't met anyone yet who had praise for Whole Foods.

One really significant black point was the fact that the ne plus ultra chocolate chip cookie was indifferent. Since time eternal, specialist American food shops have delicious, if pricey, chocolate chip cookies. They are the old-fashioned benchmark for quality in the expensive delicacy stakes. Americans are always willing to pay over the odds for a good chocolate chip. One similar emporium on upper Madison Ave charges $5/each. If it's good it's worth it. This one at 89p tasted of nothing. This surprised me. Daylesford does an unbeatable one at £1. It's the size of a tea saucer and filled with slabs of dark chocolate. An indulgent meal for a yummy grandmummy! In fact, I could nominate the Daylesford chocolate chip for the best in London.

It was difficult to figure out where to pay, and the process involved getting into a line like those at airport terminals when you're waiting to go through security. Probably the most baffling gimmick was the soup bar where eight different soups in school cafeteria-style steel containers were steaming. They were singularly unappetizing. Next to this is a huge metal counter of heated, prepared food of every ethnic flavour. You could have sushi, followed by Mexican, followed by Italian, Lebanese. These are all laid out in ‘serve yourself' style in huge aluminium dishes. Every notion of enticing your tastebuds or differentating regional differences is removed. It's how you expect food to the served at the cinema or in a mall.

The overall effect is ‘too much of everything equals nothing.' I didn't want to navigate the puzzle, and left past a display of at least 80 different brands of 75% chocolate, having found only a slice of pecorino and a bag of sugar free jelly bears for my efforts. The jelly bears were delicious, but not worth the trip.