An Aldi postscript

Curses.

I did it to myself, I am pretty sure. When I praised the delightful little arroz con leche cups I found at cut-rate German grocery chain Aldi on my first visit, it did not occur to me that I was writing their obituary.

But earlier this week, when I drove out to Almeda-Genoa Road to check out an Aldi recommended by a reader, I couldn't find my beloved Señor Rico rice pudding anywhere. I searched the rear-wall refrigerated deli aisle once, twice, three times—my alarm increasing as I realized the item wasn't there.

Thinking this store might be arranged differently, I checked the glassed-in cases where dairy products are housed—noting with consternation that the only whole milk on offer was in unwieldy gallon jugs of no use to me. Then I checked them again. Nope.

I peered into a case labeled "Aldi Finds," with an ominous caption reading "get them before they're gone" or somesuch. No go. Then, increasingly desperate, I cruised all the cases again.

I made a few purchases: the plain Belgian Butter Waffle Crisps of which I have grown fond. A couple baskets of reasonably priced organic berries, a classic Aldi attraction. A dirt-cheap bagful of lemons. An affordable container of mascarpone with which to adorn said berries. A small envelope of sliced Black Forest ham. A bag of ground coffee that didn't cost the earth.

I noted that this suburban venue featured a more orderly version of my inner-city Aldi's "home and decor" aisle, one that didn't look like a flea market through which an ogre had stampeded. Hmph. Apparently all Aldis are not created equal.

I noted too that the potted fall mums that stood in ranks had not been watered recently, so they looked wilted and forlorn.

It was all I could do not to buy some bottled water so I could revive them myself.

On my drive back inside the Loop, I decided I would not admit defeat. Surely my neighborhood Aldi would still have Señor Rico arroz con leche. There had been lots of it on both my previous visits. I would brave the construction that has messed up Old Spanish Trail and obtain My Precious.

You know how this ends, right?

In the rear refrigerator case, where the chilled desserts had once dwelled, the Señor Rico trove had vanished. Entirely. It was as if the rice pudding cups had never existed.

Refusing to believe it (I am stubborn that way), I stomped the length of the case once, twice, thrice before admitting to myself that Señor Rico had sold out. Probably because I had drawn attention to its excellence.

In my restaurant reviewing days, I had sometimes praised a little low-profile spot knowing that the next time I went, there might be a line. Now it seemed to have happened on a smaller, Aldi-specific scale.

Would Señor Rico be restocked? Who knew? Aldi is famous for the now-you-see-it, now-you-don't nature of its inventory.

On my way out the door, I checked to see if this store had the half-gallon of milk I needed. (It didn't.) I inspected the racks full of potted mums to gauge their hydration. (Not good.)

I drove home past hundreds of orange construction cones, through clouds of Houston construction dust, contemplating the very particular sorrows involved in Aldi fandom.