The Delivery Diaries

THE WEB GROCERY DIARIES:

Netgrocer vs. Albertsons.com

Location Info

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Pink Dot

8495 W. Sunset Blvd.
West Hollywood, CA 90069

Category: Retail

Region: West Hollywood

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More About

• Fancy Feast Cat Food
• Jane Eyre
• Rome (Italy)
• Main Dish Recipes
• Foods

Day one:Netgrocer's first deadly sin is in crashing my browser. Twice. I place my order: a bag of granola, plain, and three cans of "Beef Feast" Fancy Feast cat food. Estimated time of delivery: four days. Searching for water on Albertsons.com brings up 546 products from "deli ham" to "watercress" to "nipples and bottlecaps." A virtual shopping cart on the left-hand side of the screen updates as I add items -- a bag of Foster Farms Buffalo Style chicken tenders and one box of Teddy Grahams. Estimated time of delivery: 32-35 hours.

Day two:Confirmation e-mails arrive with password reminders and order totals. Netgrocer promises to leave non-perishable delivery orders at the door, even if no one is home. FedEx is its middleman of choice.

Day three:Albertsons.com delivery arrives! Vina, identified by her name tag as "Dot Com Driver," shows up on schedule at 10 a.m. On the dot. "Is this all you ordered?" she asks, flexing her biceps. Like driving a Lamborghini 5 miles per hour on the autobahn, like asking the Hulk to uncap a jar of cherries, Vina's ready to strut her stuff. She's outfitted in black polo shirt and black slacks with hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, but I wonder about her lanky frame. What if I ordered a lot of things? "No problem," she says. "Even if I got 20 totes, if I have to take them out of the bag one by one and hand it to you, I work it the way it's best for me." She balances a clipboard jauntily on her hip, "We've got our own refrigerated trucks," so cold foods are fair game. Even if there are stairs? "No problem." Even if the elevator's broken? "No problem." In the summer, people order a lot of sodas and water, she says. I'm her third new client this week. I hand her my credit card, but she shakes her head, "Oh, we don't need that. Only if we think it's fraudulent." In the plastic bag, two chocolate Nabisco Cremewich freebies. From Netgrocer.com, another e-mail: "Delivery has left the warehouse." Cats are restless.

Day four:Official holiday. I will cut Netgrocer some slack. Albertson.com's buffalo tenders are crisping in the oven.

Days five and six:The weekend. The milk is about to expire, and still no granola. Breakfast is but a distant dream. The cats are gnawing the furniture. In the relentless social Darwinism of dot-com grocery shopping, survival of the fleetest has come down to three cans of Fancy Feast and a box of chocolate bears.

SKYMEALS

The experience of SkyMeals is like the Blue Danubespace-shuttle scene in 2001: A Space Odyssey -- luxe, cool and a little cheesy. When I call, SkyMeals is in its first official day of service. Jill, who takes my order, also happens to be the chef and has taken just three orders. "Where are you flying?" she murmurs. Rome? Paris? Monte Carlo? Her voice is mellow, calm, like sweet butter. Rest assured, the Web site says: "Not all Skymeals have to fly." Perhaps I will want it waiting for me when I arrive home from my voyage?

How is the charcuterie platter? I ask. "Oh," she sighs, "it is beautiful."

Their menu is a far cry from gummy airplane chicken. It is a poem, a soliloquy: Try the "Gado Gado" salad with quail eggs on endive, the "Painter's Palette of Fresh Fruit" or "Flash Seared Ahi Tuna." A "concierge" is available to take orders seven days a week. Travel tips from the Web site include ways to avoid "economy class syndrome." For $14.95, the chef will fix a SkyKids peanut-butter-and-jam sandwich on rustic whole-grain bread. This isn't just gourmet flying lunch boxes, this is Lifestyle. Jill places my order for a Sky Brunch (imported smoked salmon, Roma tomato, caper-and-olive tapenade, blueberry tea loaf), a charcuterie platter (sliced prosciutto, terrine of pâté, Brie cheeses, cornichons . . .), a flourless chocolate-and-roasted-pecan cake.

Two days later, 30 minutes before the scheduled delivery time, Francisco arrives with my SkyMeal. Where are the Kubrickian lovelies in pillbox stewardess caps and space booties? Francisco is dressed neatly in gray slacks and brown button-up shirt. "So far I'm the only delivery guy," he says, offering a purple-and-gold shopping bag. He has pasty-white skin, and when I shake his hand, it is soft and clammy. He is deferential in a shy, earnest way: "They have me working mornings and evenings." When I unpack the meal, there's a shoebox-size black carton lined in silver foil. Inside, two mini­ice packs, plastic utensils tied up in a white paper napkin, salt and pepper shakers, and a pretty, appetizer-size portion of various cold meats and cheese. The chocolate cake is sprinkled with bits of shaved gold flakes and powdered sugar. The terrine of pâté is cut into the shape of a star. But the Sky Brunch, nowhere to be found, has missed its flight.

Pink Dot, $3.50 delivery fee,www.pinkdot.com.

Chef on the Way, $10 minimum, (323) 466-CHEF.

Albertsons.com, $9.95 delivery fee; Netgrocer.com, shipping rate $3.99 and up, depending on region and total price.

SkyMeals, (800) 296-8180 orwww.skymeals.com.