By Summer Lu, 17, Vincent Massey Secondary School, Windsor, Ontario
In this review by Summer Lu, 17, Costco is a restaurant serving samples in “tiny white cups like amuse-bouches” that are so tasty they’ll make you abandon your family shopping trip.Credit...Kerry Tasker for The New York Times
Walking into Costco on a Saturday evening feels like participating in a social experiment disguised as a buffet. We arrive as a family, united by a shared cart and a vague promise to “stick together.”
Then I notice the sample stations.
Strangers in Kirkland hats hold out tiny white cups like amuse-bouches for people who insist they are “just here for the essentials.” Because the portion is small and the price is zero, it feels consequence-free. No commitment beyond a polite nod and a quick “thank you.”
Those little paper cups make me drift away and circle back, as if summoned. At some point, my family keeps walking, confident the unit is intact.
At some point, I do not follow.
Here are the top three samples worth the betrayal.
1. Spring Rolls: The Restaurant Scam That Suddenly Feels Reasonable
I never order spring rolls at restaurants because I cannot emotionally accept paying $7 for two. Delicious, yes, but not worth nearly half an hour at minimum wage.
At Costco, however, my principles weaken.
I hover nearby, pretending to study frozen corn dogs as if sodium percentages have ever influenced my choices. Then it happens.
DING.
A fresh batch appears, golden and steaming, and the entire aisle subtly reorganizes itself. Carts stall mid-turn. Conversations pause. Children sit suspended in carts, too confused to even start crying.
I fight my way to the front of the crowd, securing my sample — a war won.
The wrapper shatters delicately before giving way to a hot, savory filling that tastes suspiciously restaurant-quality. In that moment, the markup feels justified, and I briefly reconsider my stance on capitalism.
2. Spinach Dip and Sweet Potato Chips: Wellness Cosplay
Spinach. Sweet Potato. The words alone suggest a version of myself who exercises recreationally and hydrates responsibly.
The sample tastes like the rare occasions when my non-appetizer, water-only family orders something to share at a fancy restaurant. The dip is warm and creamy; the chip is sweet and crisp in a way that feels almost virtuous. For several seconds, I inhabit the life of a Pilates princess, a health queen, and a person who owns a closet filled with matching workout sets.
While I briefly consider buying the tub and finally embarking on my New Year’s resolution three months late, my family has already advanced three aisles ahead.
Let’s not dwell on the reality that a small cup of creamy spinach dip can easily run 80 calories before accounting for the sweet potato chips. Costco lighting does not support that kind of introspection. Ignorance, like spinach dip, is bliss.
3. Cinnamon Sugar Donuts: Colasanti’s Nostalgia in a Paper Cup
I grew up going to Colasanti’s — the greenhouse where I fed goats, begged my parents for arcade tokens, and left clutching a paper bag of warm cinnamon sugar doughnuts dusting my shirt — a near-universal childhood memory for Windsor-Essex kids.
The Costco version is not the same, but on an empty stomach, it’s close enough.
The first bite is warm and sweet, cinnamon clinging to my fingers. For a moment, the warehouse disappears, and I’m back to being smaller, stickier and happier. I take one sample for myself and another “for my family,” fully aware that the second will not make it to them. It feels calorie-less because it is a sample, and necessary because it tastes like a memory.
When I look up, I realize that I have no idea where my parents are within this hundred-thousand-square-foot warehouse.
I consider finding them, but then the tray refills.
