Loblaw’s targets gourmet tastes
By Anne Kingston - Wednesday, October 5, 2011 - 1 Comment
Can a high-end ‘black label’ (and some well-aged cheese) rescue President’s Choice?
Cole Garside/Maclean's
Last week, Loblaw Companies invited some 60 guests from media, fashion and food circles to “The Dinner Party” at a Toronto art gallery in a gritty west end neighbourhood. The stylish, if incongruous, soiree represented stealth marketing at its most overt—as the country’s largest supermarket chain bestowed “gourmet” imprimatur on its new line of 213 President’s Choice “black label” products slated for mid-October rollout at 140 Loblaws, Zehrs and Fortinos stores in Ontario, Quebec and Nova Scotia—with broader national distribution potentially to follow.
As waiters passed trays of appetizers—mini Waldorf salads, baby scallop ceviche, beef sliders with “umami aioli” alongside signs indicating which black label oils and condiments were used in preparation—marquee Toronto chefs plated a superb four-course dinner using items from the line, including Soy and Ginger Marinade, Sea Salt With Fresh Herbs, trendy Argan Oil, and Bacon Marmalade and Dark Chocolate Couverture.
The scene bristled with the sort of over-the-top exuberance Loblaw was known for in the 1980s when President’s Choice (PC) pioneered the upscale private label in Canada and master marketer Dave Nichol brought extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar and “Memories of” sauces to the masses.
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A tale of two supermarkets
By Jacob Richler - Thursday, September 16, 2010 at 12:40 PM - 0 Comments
Galen Weston Jr.’s Loblaw should take a lesson from a Metro Plus in Magog, Que.
PHOTOGRAPHY BY RACHEL GRANOFSKY
Three weeks ago I found myself shopping at the sprawling Metro Plus supermarket in the lakeside town of Magog, Que. As at so many other supermarkets these days, banners fluttered overhead affirming the store’s commitment to local producers. What was odd was that the shelves and racks below made good on the promise.
The produce section was flooded with local seasonal finest, from beefsteak tomatoes to sweet corn, shallots and ground cherries. An entire wall at the centre of the store flaunted Quebec products from mustard and honey to vinegar and chocolate. Breakfast alone involved a choice of no fewer than three local artisanal bacons, and for eggs, a selection that ran to an intriguing new variety called les matinaux (early birds), which according to the box have been hatched not by the usual tired old hens, but by fresh, barely legal ones, on the job for not a day over five months—guaranteed.
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What a waste
By Nancy Macdonald - Monday, November 9, 2009 at 11:24 AM - 23 Comments
We throw out, at great environmental cost, a horrific amount of the food we grow. Why?
Four years ago, North America’s potato growers formed a cartel. By managing supply, and keeping demand—and prices—high, the United Potato Growers of America, which later helped found a Canadian counterpart, aims to be the OPEC of spuds. Within a year of forming, however, United was facing public revulsion: the consortium, it turned out, was asking farmers to destroy crops to boost prices. In a single year, the Idaho chapter took roughly four million 100-lb. bags of already harvested, perfectly good potatoes and plowed them right back into the ground—a legal, if disgusting, measure. It took one farmer three days to bury his share: $100,000 worth. In 2006 alone, United helped erase 6.8 million hundredweight potato sacks from the U.S. and Canadian markets. Farmers’ open-market returns soared—up 49 per cent over the previous year.Response to this news was uniformly horrified, but the truth is, in much of the West, produce is destroyed every day of every week, on a much larger scale, and for a reason even more offensive than profit: aesthetics. We’ve grown accustomed in North America to fancy supermarkets with shiny, unblemished fruits and vegetables. But it’s no accident that all that perfect produce lines the shelves: fruits and veggies are culled to ensure that only those with the right size, shape, style or colour end up for sale. A hint of wear is fatal for an otherwise perfectly edible apple, which then winds up in the trash. Continue…
