Pittsburgh's loss may have been Cleveland's gain. No, we're not talking about a meeting between the Steelers and the Browns. This is about something more fundamental.

Good, wholesome food.

For six years, the Whole Foods Market on Centre Avenue in East Liberty has been a mecca for discriminating shoppers. It's no surprise that Pittsburghers quickly took to an upscale grocery that specializes in organic produce, fresh meats and natural delicacies.

But the crowded 32,500-square-foot Whole Foods in Pittsburgh was followed last year by a Whole Foods in Cleveland, two hours away, that is one-third larger and serves a similar demographic. To add insult to injury, the chain then added a second outlet in the Cleveland market when it acquired the Wild Oats chain.

It's as if Whole Foods learned from its Pittsburgh store, then rewarded Cleveland with a bigger, finer market. Meanwhile, all Pittsburgh got was promises -- maybe an expansion of the East Liberty store, maybe a second location in the suburbs.

Years before it became a chic catalyst for East End business development, a Whole Foods store was the desire of foodies throughout the region. If Philadelphia and Ann Arbor could have one, then why not Pittsburgh?

In 2002 the store came, and then the crowds. It was the simplest form of capitalism: build a Whole Foods and customers will drive from miles around to buy fresh arugula. Now that they do, there is one word that best describes the parking lot -- full.

To be sure, Whole Foods deserves a certain amount of credit for good things happening in the neighborhood. A Borders Books store. A Walgreens and a PNC Bank. A pedestrian walkway being planned to connect Shadyside. A nearby Giant Eagle that renovated, expanded and no doubt appeals to Whole Foods-type customers with its successful Market District concept.

That's why Whole Foods shouldn't take its Pittsburgh success for granted. Such loyal patrons deserve a bigger, better store; they deserve a trip to the market without circling the block for a parking space. Otherwise, they'll take their arugula dollars elsewhere.

Yogi Berra, the Yankees catcher who was no stranger to good food, may have put it best: "Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded."