Saturday morning, 7:50 am, 86 degrees already...this weekend's trip to the farmer's market needed to happen early. We've been lucky enough to live near good farmer's markets and try to get there on a fairly regular basis. This weekend, in the middle of our crazy heat wave, the stalls were flooded with tomatoes and squash - what a lovely sight.
I'm not a gardener - too much shade, not enough time - so aside from the kitchen herbs out back, we rely on the store and the market for good ingredients. Luckily here in North Carolina, the farmer's market is close by and plentiful. Little ones have sprung up at shopping centers and saturday evening music venues, but the big one under the market stalls is a regular stopping place for us.
I love the bustle of the stalls getting set up, the overheard conversations between customers, vendors and families. In a small town, you're bound to see people you know, or at least recognize, and I like feeling connected to this place we live. There's a similar sense of connection that comes from seeing the food lined up in baskets and buckets, dirt still clinging to the garlic, little bunches of purslane arrayed next to the basket with a permanent-marker sign Purslane! Try some! and the annotated apples Wolf River antique apple - best for pies.
The sweet smell surrounding a basket of small yellow melons caught my attention and I asked the young man behind the table what they were. Sprite melons. They're real sweet. Taste a little like cantelope, a little like honeydew, but not like Sprite.
How could you resist a sprite melon?
It's going to be a good week!
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