Ever stood frozen in a grocery aisle, paralyzed by 37 types of orange juice or milk options that require a PhD to decode?
Welcome to America — the land of freedom, fries, and fifty wildly different grocery store experiences.
In this delightfully quirky road trip, author Robert Okine skips tourist traps and dives into frozen food sections, hot bars, and cereal aisles — using grocery stores to hilariously capture the culture and chaos of every U.S. state.
From California’s kale kingdoms to Texas’ brisket aisles, from Vermont’s maple-syrup serenity to Florida’s hot mess of Spam and sunshine, this book is part cultural commentary, part comedy, and all-American in spirit.
Already read by over 100 readers in its first week, USA: The Land with at Least 50 Options is the perfect read for travel lovers, cultural explorers, and anyone who’s ever shouted, “WHY are there eight types of frozen waffles?!”
Grab your cart. Buckle your snack belt. You’re about to tour the states like never before.
Ever stood frozen in a grocery aisle, paralyzed by 37 types of orange juice or milk options that require a PhD to decode?
Welcome to America — the land of freedom, fries, and fifty wildly different grocery store experiences.
In this delightfully quirky road trip, author Robert Okine skips tourist traps and dives into frozen food sections, hot bars, and cereal aisles — using grocery stores to hilariously capture the culture and chaos of every U.S. state.
From California’s kale kingdoms to Texas’ brisket aisles, from Vermont’s maple-syrup serenity to Florida’s hot mess of Spam and sunshine, this book is part cultural commentary, part comedy, and all-American in spirit.
Already read by over 100 readers in its first week, USA: The Land with at Least 50 Options is the perfect read for travel lovers, cultural explorers, and anyone who’s ever shouted, “WHY are there eight types of frozen waffles?!”
Grab your cart. Buckle your snack belt. You’re about to tour the states like never before.
When people think of California, they picture sunshine, palm trees, and actors pretending not to be actors. What they don’t always picture is the mental gymnastics it takes to pick a carton of milk.
Welcome to California, where even your choices have choices.
Aisle 7: Existential Crisis
My first time in a California grocery store, I stood in front of the milk section for thirteen minutes. I timed it.
Almond milk, oat milk, rice milk, soy milk, cashew milk, macadamia milk, banana milk (yes, banana), goat milk, A2 cow milk, raw milk, coconut milk, hemp milk… and one sad little carton of actual whole milk trying not to get canceled.
And that’s before you get to the options:
Sweetened or unsweetened?
Vanilla or original?
Fortified with calcium, vitamin D, or turmeric?
“Barista blend,” “Keto-friendly,” or “Mood-enhancing”?
At some point I forgot I came for cereal.
The Culture of Clean Eating
California doesn’t just want you to eat healthy—it wants you to feel enlightened while doing it. You can get quinoa that’s been blessed by a yoga instructor. Granola that’s 87% chia seeds and 13% well-meaning intentions. Kombucha brewed in small batches by monks—or maybe just guys with man buns in Oakland.
Every store here smells like essential oils, ambition, and fresh basil. There’s a Whole Foods across from a Sprouts next to a Trader Joe’s that shares a parking lot with a juice cleanse pop-up.
Even the dogs eat organic.
The Vibe is Wellness Meets Wealth
Everyone is either on a cleanse, intermittent fasting, or drinking something green in a mason jar.
And you don’t just buy groceries—you curate them.
You don’t say “I picked up snacks.” You say, “I discovered these almond flour seaweed crisps at this boutique vegan co-op in Santa Monica. They’re life-changing.”
Life-changing.
Meanwhile, I’m just trying to find bread that isn’t gluten-intolerant.
The Abundance Paradox
It’s incredible, though. In one place, you can choose food that fits any identity:
Vegan? Got you.
Paleo-Keto-CrossFit-Carnivore? Yup.
Anti-carb but pro-cookie? There’s a “keto cookie butter” option with a cult following.
California gives you everything. And then it gives you another option, just in case.
Final Thought:
In California, you don’t just choose what you eat.
You choose who you are based on what you put in your cart.
So next time you’re in LA and someone asks what your sign is, don’t say Capricorn.
Say Oat Milk Rising.
This is not a book about grocery stores. It’s a love letter, an ode, or an epic poem to the land of choices and dinner opportunities: The United States of America. The diversity of grocery stores in America reflects the diversity of the people and the experiences one might have in America.
Each short, quippy chapter describes a different state. Each state is represented by its grocery store: not just what’s on the shelves, but the vibe, the culture, and the personality. It’s like a travel guide, TL;DR, giving you a snapshot of who and what each state is and who or what the people are like in that state.
Why California first? The list is neither alphabetical nor in order of most outlandish to most 'normal.' It’s as if the author took the country and arranged it by feel, not geography.
Reading this, I felt like I was watching Forrest Gump when Bubba talks about shrimp. There are numerous varieties, much like the types of potatoes in Idaho or the various milk options in California.
Each word is so intentional, so well-placed, and sometimes they are in bold typeface, giving extra emphasis.
Even when the state’s grocery store stereotype leans on the obvious, it never feels lazy because it is so fun and loudly humorous. Like someone who sees America in all its absurd and beautiful forms.
Everyone eats, so everyone shops. This book is for anyone, even if you don't live anywhere in the US but want a snapshot of what it's like to live in any one of the different states. We are a melting pot of flavors - inside and outside of our grocery stores.
You’ll start wondering where you’d want to live, not just by climate or cost of living, but by grocery energy. (I think I identify most with Nevada, which tells you a lot about what kind of person I identify as.)
One of the most fun, funny, and sneakily accurate things I’ve read this year.