Another door opens
This summer I have really started to rely heavily on our local farmers market. No, it’s not the one pictured above. But you may have seen it in our final issue of MerriMail. Our neighborhood farmers market is held each Thursday from 3-7 pm on 8th Street between D & E. I think that the key to success was adding a reminder in my phone each week, which rings at 4:45 pm.
Yesterday I bought little balls of fresh mozerella, yogurt with a touch of honey, a red onion, button mushrooms and a bag full of peaches and friends that Henry picked out. I really wanted some corn and zuchinni, but we decided not to buy any, unlike last week. I also bought three loaves of bread. One was a ciabatta and the others were a two for one sort of deal.
I wasn’t sure what kind of bread it was, so I asked after I said yes. He was loading the loaves up in a paper bag as he mentioned the word rye. I hate rye bread. I almost said as long as it’s not rye. But this was some sort of Swiss mix and he started to cut off a sample for me. Henry just said let’s go before I could even start to chew the bread. I needed to really concentrate in the hubbub of the street to make sure I didn’t notice the rye flavor. But Henry acted like the baker was a car salesman trying to add on that glassy wax protective coating to my ticket. I gave him the “you better calm down” look and continued to chew the bread. The guy was right. I did not taste the rye. And I didn’t taste it this morning after eating the delicious ham and cheese sandwich Henry made for breakfast. This is the exact moment i was trying to protect myself from, when I knew I would be really sleepy and not want to be jarred awake by a strong rye flavor.
This week I signed up for a class I am taking this fall at The Corcoran. It’s called The Sculptural Book and I can’t wait to start. I really wish that we had already started because I want to make a pop-up burning bush for church in two weeks. I’m not sure how that will happen. Anyway, my class is on Thursday afternoons. I also like to group my hours at Paper Source with any trip to Georgetown. Long story short, I am not going to be able to shop at the farmers market this fall. I told Shannon and Will my world is crumbling (with a touch of sarcasm, of course).
After yesterday’s trip, I told Henry that he was responsible for going this fall. The dairy is way better because the cheese tastes so fresh and not like a rubber ball, which I frequently find from grocery store purchases – just before it goes bad. Needless to say the food is the green choice with minimal travel miles. And I believe that it is actually cheaper. The prices are pretty similar to the grocery store with recent inflation, except rounded down and no tax added.
The only difference is you have to pay I’m cash through out the shopping experience. This can be hard to keep track of, but not nearly as jarring as seeing your final bill at the grocery store with the addition of those items you strolled by and casually tossed in your cart. I have yet to spend more than $60 at the farmers market, but easily spend $160 every time I go to the grocery store.
This morning on my walk I came across the USDA farmers market, which is held each Friday morning at 10 am located at, where else but the USDA on Independence and 12th. It starts a little later than my walk, but I can hang out the garden blogging, like I am now. I strolled through this morning as people were setting up. I’m not certain that they are the same vendors, but we can make do. The produce was beautiful and I noticed some banana bread. Yum! Now I can follow up with whatever Henry misses on Thursday evening.