Saturday Rhythms

Bounty from Saturday's market

Yesterday's Saturday market was especially memorable.  It wasn't the biggest nor the busiest I have experienced.  The sun wasn't shining as brightly as it often does.  Maybe it was the promise of a real spring just around the corner, or being able to walk around is shirtsleeves, without all the winter bundling, but it felt so good to be there. And listening to conversation around me and observing the faces of those passing by, I know I was not the only person there feeling joy.

Sunshine on a stalk

When I entered Place Carnot, I was greeted by the fragrance of the daffodils.  There were several vendors selling them, but I always buy from the young guys who have a table at the "lower" end of the market.  They also sell greenery in the Christmas season.  2.50 a bouquet...and so many people, men and women alike were sporting bunches of jonquilles in their baskets and carts.  On the way home, Ih walked behind some tall, strapping Frenchman, loping along with a bouquet of yellow clutched in his hand.  It was as if we all wanted to bring some of that sunshine into our homes for the weekend.  I bought one bunch; the man in line right after me bought two.

New season's spears

The asparagus vendors were busy.  One of the great things about not being able to get exactly what you want exactly when you want it, because it's not in season, is that you learn to truly appreciate things in their season.  It's hard to comprehend a vendor who sells only asparagus--after having grown up with the huge Safeway and Giant supermarkets.  But these vendors sell nothing but local asparagus; it's sorted by size and priced accordingly.  I bought some from this particular vendor last week and it was so good that it brought tears to my eyes.  This week I bought an entire kilo, but I was too late (10:30) to get the medium or small--they were all gone.  So I bought the larger, more expensive spears and was happy to pay the price.  It works out to about $4.40 a pound, and it's local and freshly picked.  I don't know what asparagus is costing in the US these days, but I can pretty much guarantee that it's NOT local, nor freshly picked.   

I had to have some more carrots--I have almost recreated the pureed carrots of the little Parisian hole-in-the wall restaurant.  Good carrots are the secret ingredient and these with the green tops still attached are pretty wonderful. Fortunately all I had to do was turn around from at the asparagus stand and there were the carrots.

Fresh eggs, butter and look at the size of those grapes!

I then decided I should get some eggs, as I am in cake-baking practice.  These are free range, laid by roaming around, bug-pecking chickens.  Yes indeed, there is a big difference in taste and freshness.  And I love being able to buy only 6 at a time, or even one at a time if that's all I need....My cake takes 5, so I got a fresh half dozen.  I also came home with more butter!!

Practice cake #2--tasty, but needs less crumb

I remembered that I was down to my last clove, not head, but clove of garlic.  For a girl who was raised completely garlic-free, I have grown to eat lots of it.  Off I went to the vendor who sells nothing but onions--white, yellow, sweet, red, shallots and garlic--white, rose, violet.  I asked the question, "Which is stronger, the violet or the white?" and that provoked a lively discussion between the vendor and the customers who were standing there.  I bought 2 bulbs of violet--50 centimes.

Can you feel the health anti-oxidants jumping off the broccoli

On then to the produce stall I frequent during the week--there was some broccoli there so green as to be nearly black.  I could just feel the anti-oxidants jumping from the display table onto all of us shoppers as we passed by.  I remembered the piece of cheddar cheese in the fridge and decided one more batch of broccoli cheddar soup would be just the ticket.  The broccoli is on its way out of season.

My across the street neighbors

I bumped into several people I know and we exchanged double cheek kisses and a chat, just like the French do. (Actually one of them is French)  It felt like we were all exactly where we belonged. I feel that way, too as I sit in at my kitchen table, with the windows wide open, listening to the peal of the bells from St. Vincent and| St. Michel, watching the neighbor's cats while sipping coffee and writing.   I think of my friends and family back on both coasts of the US and so wish they could be here with me to experience these Carcassonne rhythms of life.