Knob Hill Farms

When I was single and trying to save money, Karl would drive me to the Knob Hill Farms food terminal off Weston Road, to a supermarket so massive and so remote we felt compelled to cram an entire month’s groceries into his tiny Mini Cooper. Everything was cheap out there . . . and bigger. The queue for chicken legs stretched forever, the aisles so long the shelves came together at the vanishing point, and if you were careless enough to miss something on your list, there was a good chance the place would close before you could retrace your steps.