The first zukes have come out of our garden, little and sweet and ready for grilling with a little olive oil, salt and pepper (and a sprinkle of parmesan afterwards). And then on a whim this morning, I took the boys on a sweaty adventure to the farmer's market and came away with some nice produce. Dinner, ta-da!
The boys love the farmer's market. They got honey sticks (not Eli, though, because the thought of that particular mess gives me the hives) and brownie samples and bits of artisan bread and beef jerky. They like looking at the mud-covered beets and funky clumps of carrots.
I like the farmer's market, but there are a couple of things about it that bug me. For one thing, some of the farmers sell stuff they clearly didn't grow: come on, cantaloupes, really? (When I asked, the guy said they came from Texas. Not quite local.) The other thing is that most booths offer the same items. The sameness sort of makes sense because vegetables come into season at the same time, but I wish for more variety at an open-air market like that. When I was in college sometimes we used to go to Boston's Haymarket on the weekends, and the variety there was amazing.
Still: There were emu eggs and steaks, and one booth with the most gorgeous orchids, all of which I admired but did not buy. There were also enough good-looking fruits and veggies that reasonably could have been grown around here. We got some stuff for tonight and some more stuff for the week, and now I get to figure out what to do with it.
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