Generic Impossibilities

I grew up in a family where we needed to count our pennies.  Four kids on a symphony musician's salary (in a smaller city) is something that needs to be worked in order to draw out the best value.  My very hard-working parents managed to save enough to buy a large fixer-upper in a nice part of town (where boys didn't try to set my hair on fire while following me to school), and they put us all through college.


However, I remember the stacking and carrying of all the firewood in order to heat our large house, and coming downstairs in the morning to stand on the iron grate over the heating duct with my flannel nightgown billowing and my icy feet burning from the tepid air flow.  I remember the 45 minute drive to "the farm" each week to sow, weed and harvest our vegetables, which were then frozen for the winter (and our apple, strawberry and blueberry picking, much of which got frozen as well).  I remember the knocking down of plaster, the sanding, painting, the re-wiring as we fixed-er-uppered the house ourselves.  And I remember the generic food.


The food was not simply from a cost-cutting or a buy-bulk supermarket, it was white packaging with black letters, and I think it was called "no-name," or something like that.  I remember having shampoo that was green and sort of glopped out with zero lather, with a special shampoo for my mother so her beautiful hair wouldn't fall out (although I later found "Prell" to be every bit as harsh for the hair).  I actually remember when we started to buy things like yoghurt and when we started to get shampoo and toothpaste with names.  Things were looking up.


All in all, there was still a great deal of coupon-cutting and careful decision-making all throughout my growing-up.  I remember getting made fun of for what I wore, which now looking back, although not brand-name, was otherwise perfectly fine.  But because I was incredibly insecure, I decided that all my problems would be solved if I had some brand-name clothes, and I presented my mother with a list of must-haves that included a modest amount of Izod tee shirts and Levis jeans for what I figured to be a mere $500.  (I was astonished when she laughed at me).


When I was set free to make my own way, I spent money quite liberally, although I was careful not to make the mistake of credit card debt.  I was certainly not interested in coupon-cutting or saving money, although I wisely put money into my retirement as soon as the opportunity was afforded (then cashed out early to buy our house - oh well).  I always had this idea that money would fall from the sky at the right time, probably due to my parents' never letting us feel the worry of not having enough.  Indeed, when my husband was out of work for a year, we lived in the nicest part of NYC and somehow (legally) had the most money in our bank account ever (?); and just at the moment when we were selling all our things on e-bay just to keep up with the bills, the opportunity was given us to buy this amazing house in a really nice neighborhood with great schools; and only two days ago, the 2000€ debt that I had been pondering how to solve (in spite of our careful planning) resolved itself by the Caisse Allocation Familialle deciding it owed us money and depositing 1,978€ in our bank account.  It does seem to fall from the sky!


But even with money falling like rain, we find the need to be wiser with what we have.  So we shop at Leader Price (Leed-air Pry-ce).  Or we head down the discount section of Auchan, where they have bulk cereal and jam for 85 centimes and everything packaged in white with "discount" written on it.  Or we sift through the various sections at Carrefour, looking for those marked with "discount" just to get things for at least half-price.  And I find that a lot of it is absolutely as good as the higher-priced, prettier-packaged counterpart.


For one thing, milk is milk in France - it comes from a cow and does not include hormones.  Creamy desserts are creamy desserts.  Rolled dough is rolled dough.  You're going to find the quality and the discount all made with real ingredients, like eggs, cream and flour.  You're going to recognize the words (if you read French) when you look at the ingredients, and you're probably going to like the taste.  In many instances, there's no reason to pay for the package.  But we've discovered in the quest for penny-pinching, that everyone has their limits.  In the episode of Ugly Betty we watched last night on DVD, it was Beluga and blinis with champagne for Wilhelmina Slater; for us it's catsup, camembert, coffee, and tinned sardines.


My husband absolutely insists on Heinz ketchup (okay, I'll give in to the new spelling).  I don't mind the Amora brand and find it tastes just as good, but I buy what he likes considering that I, personally, insist that the coffee has to be brand-name.  Carte Noire to be exact, although instant Nescafé is good in France.  (I once fooled a coffee connaisseur with instant espresso powder that he was sure had just been freshly brewed.)  Camembert is also a staple in our house, and we did not come all the way to France to buy firm young camembert with perfect, furry white skin, so it's generally Le Rustique for us, as aged as we can find it without that hint of ammonia.  Now the tinned sardines was just a fluke, as it's a rather rare purchase in and of itself.  My reckoning that generic would be just as good was quelled as soon as I rolled back the lid and discovered that there were still scales on the little guys.  I mean, fish is generally sold with scales in France, but sardines are so small that once you try and remove the scales, there's nothing left!


So we buy cheap where we can, and try to reduce a reasonably sized cart for one-to-two weeks worth of groceries from a whopping 375€ to something around half-that.  Money may fall from the sky here in France, but it sure blows out the door just as quickly.


So what about you?  What can you absolutely not compromise on?