I, for one, love the ethnic markets. My all-time favorite is the Pacific Ocean Marketplace in Broomfield, CO. Like all good Asian markets do, the POM smells like decaying fish, a smell that, when you walk through the door, slaps you in the face and calls you Suzy. They sell a mean banh mi, and you can get some good pho at a couple of nearby joints. (For even better pho, head to the area around Federal Blvd and 70th Ave.)
Sadly, the Asian market in Kannapolis closed its doors a few months back, so I have nowhere locally to buy banana ketchup. I have, however, begun frequenting my nearby Latin supermarket. I still go to the American supermarket for things like milk and eggs, but I love the Latin market for everything else. The produce section is larger. The meat section is larger. They have spices I’ve never heard of. Going to an ethnic market is like going to a foreign country, only they sell things like Tide and Charmin. Your typical American supermarket sells items that are neatly wrapped, so you can’t tell what animal, or even part of the animal, that you’re eating. Not so at an ethnic market! Chicken feet? Check. Pigs’ ears? Check. Pork stomach? "Beef bull fries"? Check and check.