Tomato season. Boxes of ripe fruit line the farmers’ market
corridor. The teenager working the stall knows I am easily swayed;
last week she sold me extra onions. ‘Six bucks?’ she offers. I pull
crumpled bills from my wallet and pick up the crate. What I will do
with that many organic tomatoes never crosses my mind.
It’s not the first time I’ve brought home a surprise from the
tiny market. At a local market, seasons demand flexibility; I shop
without an agenda and buy whatever is abundant. This food-first,
recipe-second approach feels chaotic at times, but being a market
softy has perks: Andy, my man from the orchard, always saves a
caramel apple for me, even after he has hung up his ‘Sold Out’
sign.
Genuine organic farming is environmentally sound and delivers
top-notch flavor. Buying locally at the market is even better: It
puts fresher food on plates and profit directly in farmers’
pockets. But for me, nothing trumps knowing those farmers: Andy’s
smile, or a wave from the woman who has sold me sweet corn for
seven years.
Familiar faces make being a market regular worthwhile, even when
market-fresh cooking veers from delicious to daunting. Consider the
army of tomatoes lined up in my kitchen. I’m still not sure what to
do with them. Market variety requires an inquisitive palate, but
the surprise of carrots grated into buckwheat pancakes, or a
risotto loaded with apples, more than compensates for imperfect
ventures.
In the case of these tomatoes, I settle on soup with only a hint
of cream. My stomach rumbles while it simmers. I wait. There aren’t
shortcuts for this kind of cooking. Browsing markets, building
relationships, and learning to accommodate the seasonal parade all
take time. But the pleasure of eating is worth the investment.
