To market, to market to buy a fat pig…
Well, in my case, to sell cheese, and maple syrup, peanuts and candy! Though, at one market, the vendor to our left does sell meat pigs and rabbits. That’s the wonder and beauty of farmer’s markets. There’s no limit to what you will find when you arrive, and all of it is handcrafted, baked, cooked, or raised by the very people who sell it.
A relative newbie to the farmer’s market scene, I was like the proverbial kid in the candy shop the first few times I went. I was more than eager to support my fellow vendors. I scarfed up goat’s milk body butter, red and white New Hampshire made wine, grass-fed Highland beef, a hosta for one of my flower beds, a loaf of parmesan herb bread, dilly beans, fresh mint, a buckwheat crepe stuffed with goat cheese, spinach, caramelized onions and grape tomatoes, a pint of chocolate frozen yogurt, fresh squeezed lemonade and kettle corn. Each time, I stopped only when my allotted cash ran out. I had to leave behind salsa, a necklace, a woolen hat, free-range chicken, farm-raised elk, treats for the farm dogs, tomatoes, cucumbers, basil, hydrangeas, petunias, eggs, and more canned chutneys, relishes, jams and jellies than I can list here. Only the promise of a return trip this week eases the pain. I sense a habit forming!
If you have the opportunity to visit a farmer’s market, GO! And though I would encourage you to support the vendors by buying their goods (it keeps us in business!), even if you just go to soak in the ambiance, pet the roaming donkey on a lead rope (yes, there is one where we frequent!), or listen to the live musicians scat about what’s happening in the crowd, it’s worth the trip. Squint, and you can imagine you’ve traveled back to a time when we saw where our food came from, who made it, and bartered our own goods or services to get it.
Cindi