Summertime Saturday mornings are sacred. No matter what else I might have planned, every Saturday from early June to late October always follows the same schedule: sleep in as late as the cat will let me, laze in bed with a trashy book until 8:30 or so, shuffle out of bed and into some mostly-presentable clothes, and then make my way to the local farmers’ market.
Our little market may not look like much, but I can usually count on the vendors to carry some interesting fruits and vegetables that you can’t find at the supermarket. (Fresh callalloo leaves, anyone?)
Since we’re headed into the peak of Ontario’s harvest, last weekend’s trip to the market was especially fruitful, if you’ll pardon the pun. I came home with fresh string beans, heirloom tomatoes, and best of all, a basket of beautiful dark purple damson plums.Continue Reading