A filled storefront or a sign of apocalypse?

Rachel: With the opening of Gourmet Heaven, I'm almost ready to say that I like the Broadway redevelopment. It's turning into a pretty street, finally. When Urban Outiftters and Alexia Crawford show up, it's going to get positively classy. I'm in favor.

Nate: Oh, I'm psyched. In fact, I'm looking forward to being able to toss back a nice bottle of vitamin water and a crêpe after a hard hour of shopping for lawn gnomes and velvet hip-huggers at Urban Outfitters. Let me put it this way: Urban, Alexia Crawford, and Whimsels were great, but Gourmet Heaven is absolutely, positively my favorite. Rachel (squeals): Me too!

Nate: In case you didn't notice, that last remark was more laced than an eighth of cheap weed from one of those rasta guys in Washington Square Park. I honestly believe that Gourmet Heaven foretells some sort of impending apocalypse in New Haven.

Rachel: Oh no, the demise of the empty storefront. Our quality of life is just improving so rapidly.

Nate: Well, I suppose my quality of life would be improving if I had the money to afford most of the stuff Gourmet Heaven sells. They have pasta sauce that costs $8.99 a jar—what's up with that?

Rachel: And you need to buy pasta sauce because...? They sell beautiful fresh fruit that costs just about the same as it would anywhere. You can eat these things and feel good about yourself. It's worth the money. Don't buy $15 worth of Blueberry Morning if you don't need it.

Nate: I'm not talking about organic cereal here. I went in to that snack bar today and got absolutely killed. Sure, $4.99 a pound sounds cheap, but listen to this: I picked up some chicken, tricolor tortellini, strawberries, a roll, and a couple drinks—$12.50. I could have gone to Tandoor for that.

Rachel: No, you couldn't have. There really isn't anywhere else in New Haven where you can get that kind of food. Except from maybe the dining hall, but there it costs about the same and it's all infested with worms.

Nate: You know what makes me feel good about myself? A nice big bag of Tostitos and salsa. You can't get Tostitos there, only some sort of weird organic nachos, and the only salsa they have is Newman's Own. In fact, I think they have every food product Paul Newman has ever made.

Rachel: Well, good! The proceeds from Newman's Own go to charity. And it's really yummy food.

Nate: It's no better than Tostitos, and I'm sure that Frito-Lay supports some very fine charities.

Rachel: In any case, nobody wants to hear about your damn metabolism, flat-ass. Not everybody can eat a bag of Tostitos for a snack. Girls need things like fresh fruit and steamed broccoli. And if we want to indulge, we want quality, like the cheesecake at Gourmet Heaven. Their cheesecake is unbelievable. Un-believable. You can't argue against it.

Nate: Maybe I can't argue against the cheesecake, but I can definitely argue against the Fiji water. I wanted some water with my lunch, and I figured, `Well, I'm in this place, so I might as well get something "gourmet."' I picked up this bottle of water from Fiji for $1.40. It was okay, but I really wanted some San Pelegrino. They have about 20 bottles of it up on their ornamental display shelf, but absolutely none in the fridge. That's what I call shoddy.

Rachel: You want to talk about shoddy? Let's talk about your precious Krauszer's. The floor in there is nastier than the Herald office, and their "fresh fruit" is like stage props. Everything there is just as overpriced, the place is ugly, the people are unfriendly, and the variety sucks. You want Krauszer's? Stay there. Live there. Don't come stinking up my pretty new store.

Nate: First, you can steal as much fruit as you need from the dining hall. Second, it doesn't matter what the floor looks like because everything at Krauszer's is in packages. And don't even get me started about overpriced. Gourmet Heaven makes Krauszer's look like some sort of free food emporium. Finally, let's talk about stinking stuff up. Gourmet Heaven doesn't sell cigarettes. While Yale apparently thinks that Philip Morris is one fine stock choice, it's decided that its products aren't fit for Yalies' consumption.

Rachel: Your aesthetic refinement rivals that of the Eisenhower administration. Good for Gourmet Heaven for not selling cigarettes. You people should be put on an island somewhere where your damn neurosis won't hasten my death. How can you not appreciate their interior design? It's just relaxing to be somewhere that feels so warm and clean. I mean, look at the front. You walk up, you see flowers. You see fresh fruit. You go inside, there's a huge bank of foreign chocolate. It's the Food Network come to life—it's even open 24 hours.

Nate: Well, unlike the Food Network, which comes free with cable, Gourmet Heaven costs a ton of money. And getting into the place is like walking into the Met on the first day of a Monet exhibit. Every single woman in New Haven is jammed into that tiny little corridor by the door. Whenever there are more than three people in the place you practically need to be on the hockey team to make it to the deli in less than 10 minutes. It's not that there are a ton of people, but that the place is so poorly designed. Sure it's pretty, but when I want food I want to be able to go in, grab what I want, and get out.

Rachel: I can see why Gourmet Heaven would be lost on you. What is it with our country's ruthless efficiency? Why are we so willing to settle for crap that comes in five minutes instead of waiting another five for something good? So you're a little late to the YPU debate. Maybe that's actually good for you.

Nate: Okay. This is descending to third grade level here. I wouldn't join the YPU if my life depended on it, and you know that. That was totally uncalled for. Of course, I'm sure that the Conservative Party would like the composition of the Gourmet Heaven customer base. It's all Yalies and professionals. Where's everybody else—including Yalies who aren't descended from an obscure branch of the Rockefeller family—supposed to go to buy some good, quality food?

Rachel: First of all, every time I've been in the store I've seen a big variety in the clientele. And I've heard everyone saying, "It's expensive, but it's so wonderful!" I know they've been saying these things to the owner, and I know he's considering lowering prices. Give 'em a chance. They just came out of New York City. I'm sure they'll figure out eventually that we're not going to buy basil-infused olive oil at $5 an ounce and will adapt to our needs.

Nate: I'll believe it when I see it. Besides, I don't know why one half of the population has to suffer just because every girl at Yale harbors a secret desire to be in New York. Granted, I like New York, but New York doesn't have the Educated Burgher, the Doodle, or any of the other places that make New Haven special. Individual character is drowning beneath a pile of $2.50 protein bars and pretentious microbrew soda.

Rachel: What was in that space before? Bruegger's! A chain! And Broadway Pizza, which, I will admit, had cheap, good, slices, but it also had a staff of mercenaries who would as soon slit your throat as pour you a soda. I think the best parts of New Haven, like the Doodle and the Burgher, aren't going to go anywhere, so what's the problem with the rest of the place getting a little nicer?

Nate: Why does everybody equate wood paneling, a wall covered with 30 varieties of mixed nuts, and access to brie at 2 a.m. with nice? Nice means a lot of things—the smell of a good cigar, free beer, the laconic, gruff art of a Hemingway sentence (albeit missing from this particular pile of verbiage). We're just trading The Sun Also Rises for Pride and Prejudice. I guess Jane Austen's famous and all, but...damn.

Rachel: Damn straight, you flat-ass bastard. I'll tell you what I equate with nice. A nice dish of plantains at 9 p.m. A nice chicken pesto sandwich with mozzarella. A nice man behind the counter telling me to have a nice day as he knocks a few cents off my bill so I don't have to dig for change. How Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are just so right for each other.

Nate: Like Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, the people at Krauszer's might speak with a funny accent, but they're always nice to me. Anyway, I'm not going to say I don't like having the option of eating chicken and strawberries for lunch, but there's no variety. They have four shelves of brands I recognize and a bunch of stuff I've never heard of. In fact, they have an entire shelf devoted to olives in varieties I've never eaten, let alone considered buying. Rachel: Oh come on, live a little. Caveman.

Nate (scratches nuts): Damn straight.

Graphic by Eugene Wong.

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