The Market

Sunday is my favourite day of the week, and a big part of that is the growers market just up the road in the Wayville showgrounds.
I love it so much that rain hail or shine I will trot up with my roomy and practical shopping cart ( like the grannies used to have) to get my fix of life.

There is a real feeling of community - a village where the farmers bring in their wares, freshly picked, for you to buy from their stalls. Nods of recognition and smiles are exchanged with the fruit and veg, the real feeling of spending coins and notes ( no plastic thanks) on the freshest produce in town. You can take your time, there are tastings everywhere, and everything is hand made, regional and delicious. Week by week you learn to appreciate the wonderful abundance and sheer variety of fine foods. Venison sausages, hand crafted cheeses, free range eggs, country meat and fresh herbs. Tomatoes which are red all the way through, purple potatoes, apples fresh from the orchard and olives made to an old family recipe. And the cooks are there too - freshly baked portuguese custard tarts, expertly made aoli or veal jus, falafels, pigeon pies and delicate chocolate truffles, all served with warmth and pride.

I pile all the treats high into my cart, and often do not stop until I simply can't carry any more. Every week brings a new revelation, and each visit turns that weeek into a gourmet feast. The pleasure extends to cooking, I remember the purchase fondly and with satisfaction, and the admiration I have for the people who bring me this wonderful food.

It makes me feel just that little bit more connected to the world, and I coudn't be happier.