her able hands

Lila and I just returned from our walk to the farmer’s market where I let the manager know not to expect me as anything but a grateful customer this year. I ran into my two favorite customers from last season, one who came weekly for the Haricot Verts, and tried to hook me up with a chef friend to grow them for his restaurant, but I couldn’t make that commitment this year. The other a woman who came for my Baby White Chard, saying it was the only greens she had ever found that she could comfortably digest, steamed lightly and tossed with rice vinegar and tamari. She looked absolutely crestfallen when I told her the beetles ate every last bit of the row I planted for her. Turns out she, too, lives a few streets over. I love this neighborhood so much.

Seems a lot of the growers had rough years and limited crops. Most of them had bug bites on their produce, especially the beet greens and the beans. That made me feel a little bit better, especially when I saw people happily buying them at premium prices anyway. Could it be that the neighborhood food consciousness is raising?

I bought three lovely, round, light purple eggplants for tonight’s dinner.

Slice them into thick rounds, dip in our luscious eggs, then in seasoned bread crumbs, lay them on a cookie sheet (sides not touching) and bake in a 375* oven for 10-12 minutes each side. Take out of the oven but leave on the sheet, and top each round with a nice slice of ripe tomato (also purchased today) and a few crumbles of real, aged blue cheese then back in the oven on broil for about three minutes. We’ll have that with tossed green salad (minus the cucumbers* I’m craving,) some slaw made with the plump cabbage I bought from the guy who always set up next to me last year and liked to trade recipes, and the sweet corn I bought from the hilarious old guys who sell it out of the back of their giant pickup truck. “Here you go, and there’s an extra one for good luck.” I know he said that to every person he exchanged corn for money with, but it still made me happy. I’m feeling like I can use all the luck I can get.

Now let’s just hope the thunderstorms hold off until Tyler’s plane is safely on the ground, and then let the heavens give us a good soaking. It’s so dry that the perennial garden is dying.

* Not a single seller had a cucumber, and all said the beetles wiped them out this year. This also makes me feel encouraged, because those growers chose not to spray their crops either. More evidence of awakening? Yay for us! Time to call the horse farm to deliver a truckload of aged manure, and get busy amending that soil! You know, in my free time. Snort.

Technorati Tags: farmer’s market, food consciousness

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