In the five years I’ve lived here, I’ve never gone to the Farmer’s Market that’s right down the road. But today, my neighbor reminds me that a local Italian sells fresh ravioli stuffed with delicious combinations of flavors: salmon, artichoke and asiago, portobello, pizza, goat cheese and beets, asparagus, and more.
Ravioli calls my name.
A moment later, I stroll with my pound of pepperoni pizza ravioli in my arms. I find I’m drawn in by the fresh, crusty bread from local bakeries and Amish families.
But first, I watch my husband talk about Silver Queen corn (his favorite from growing up in North Carolina) with a local farmer.
“Silver Queen is so old,” the farmer says. “We grow a better version called White Ice that you will love.” We buy several ears, and later, we agree that it’s absolutely the best corn we’ve ever had.
It feels like such a supreme luxury to go to such a market to buy food for the day. I watch folks carry their fresh eggs away, and I wonder why I’m not living like this all week.
Do you go to a Farmer’s Market each week? What do you buy there?