A Trip to the Farmer’s Market
There’s an electric energy buzzing through the concrete this morning, recharging me with every step. The vendors are carting around their goods, spreading tablecloths and filling wood crates with freshly picked apples, squash and blackberries. The way the early morning sun hits the dew on the fruit makes it almost impossible to hold back from taking a bite.
A farmer’s market is one of those magical places that no matter how booming it is, you can still stop and have a, “Hey, what kind of dog is that?” conversation or an, “I made a pie with those peaches and it blew my mind” exchange. All different, but all connected with the thread of real, honest food. They should probably update that famous quote to, “The fastest way to anyone’s heart is through their stomach.”
But today is more than just conversation; I’m on a quest to gather all the treats October has to offer. I stumble upon a booth with the ever-elusive fresh organic fig, which could quite possibly be the biggest unsung hero of autumn. Images of fig muffins and fig and goat cheese salads are dancing in my head when…wait, is that bacon? Do I smell bacon? I do. It’s wafting over from the crepe stand, that evil temptress. And so begins the inner bargaining we all do with ourselves: if I eat one, just one, and stick to fruit and nuts for the rest of the week, that cancels out all of the calories, right? Pretty sure it does.