It's the fruit and veggies section that draws you in first--piles of oranges and grapefruits vying for your attention over mounds of ripe tomatoes and lush eggplants.  And then there it is--the artichoke that seduces you with its layered petals and the promise of the fleshy heart tucked in the center of its thorny armor.  On impulse, you abandon the tight outline of your shopping list and commit to the artichoke.  You throw in Brussels sprouts for good measure, already planning the meal centered on those crisp sprouts sautéed with nutritional yeast and pomegranate seeds.

Each item added to the cart is a promise to nourish, to indulge, to create.  You imagine each meal: from the wine you sip as you steam the artichoke and cook the quinoa, to the quick-sautéed spinach leaves fragrant with the aromas of garlic, ginger, and chile peppers, to the morning oatmeal filling the belly after yoga has filled the soul.

You even let yourself be taken in by the decadence of the cheese section--surely the weekend is not a weekend without aged Gouda--even as you ignore the cheap thrills of the chips and candy aisles.  There is no room in your cupboard for food devoid of soul.

At home, you unload your culinary loot, a warm sensation spreading through your belly as your fridge fills with edible jewels, vibrant tokens of self-care and wholesome indulgence.