Price Check - The Italian Shop

Let me tell you about my recent trip to Price Check: The Italian Shop, a place that feels like walking into your Nonna’s pantry—if your Nonna charged you €8 for a jar of honey and threatened you with a wooden spoon if you touched the cured meats. I went in for a tube of toothpaste and left having spent fifty quid on a single block of Parmesan. How does that happen? Magic, I swear. Or maybe it’s the smell of sun-dried tomatoes and existential regret.

The Shelves of Financial Ruin

First, you hit the pasta aisle. A box of good spaghetti costs about the same as a movie ticket, but you don’t get a film, just a carb coma. I saw a bag of bronze-die-cut fusilli for £12.75. That’s not pasta; that’s a statement about your financial choices. The label says “artisan,” but I’m pretty sure it’s just regular pasta that went to university.

Then there’s the olive oil section. Ladies and gentlemen, these bottles are more expensive than a night out in London. One liter of “single-estate” Tuscan oil was £39. I could have bought a used bicycle for that. But no—I’m supposed to drizzle this liquid gold on a salad like I’m a Renaissance painter? Absurd. Still, I bought it, because the cashier gave me a look that said, “You wouldn’t understand flavor, peasant.”

The Balsamic Snobbery Corner

Ah, balsamic vinegar. You think you know it? No. This stuff is aged longer than I’ve been alive. Price Check sells a 25-year-old balsamic for £110. I tasted a drop. It was like a vineyard cried into a spoon. The kicker? They also sell a £6 bottle that tastes exactly the same to me, but I’m not trusted to tell the difference. So I bought the cheap one. The shop assistant sighed audibly.

P&R Italian shops in former Maidstone and Sittingbourne JC Rook & Sons

And don’t get me started on the deli counter. You stand there, sweating, while a man in a white hat asks, “Would you like the prosciutto di Parma or the San Daniele?” It’s a trap. They’re both £12 for a slice so thin you can read a newspaper through it. I said “yes” to one, he cut it, and I swear he weighed it on a scale that calculates your mortgage.

The Surprising Fact That Will Save You

Here’s the thing: Price Check actually has cheaper options if you know where to look. For example, their tinned tomatoes are £1.50—the same price as the supermarket, but these are from San Marzano. They’re grown in volcanic soil, which sounds terrifying, but it makes the sauce taste like heaven. Also, their dried oregano is £2.20. That’s it. Just oregano. Not a €20 truffle oil. That’s the move.

Neighborhood Spotlight: Let’s talk about The Italian Store! | ARLnow.com

But beware the checkout counter. That’s where they display the €7 chocolate bars shaped like Italy. I bought one. It tasted like regret and hazelnuts. Later, I Googled the brand and found out it’s made in a factory in Slough. Surprising fact: 60% of “Italian” specialty shops in the UK source their pasta from the same British wholesaler. True story. So you’re paying for the romance, not the geography.

Final Verdict

Price Check is a wonderful place to ruin your budget and feel sophisticated. Just go for the cheap canned tomatoes, avoid the balsamic trap, and pretend you understand why the pancetta costs £9. You’ll leave with a full bag, an empty wallet, and a sudden urge to learn Italian. Or just to eat buttered toast like a normal person. Buon appetito, you poor, glorious soul.