Verveine

We had a very eventful market session yesterday, with orchestration help from Mother Nature. Last week, we took a much needed week off from the market, and enjoyed the weekend like normal folks. It was a great decision, as we were completely pumped to be back and working this week.

It rained when we left our place at six in the morning. It rained the entire drive there, and rained while we were setting up the canopy. It continued to rain for the first two hours of the market. Still, our regulars steadily trickled by, professing that they cannot live a week without their “caramel fix”. It stopped raining from around 10:00-11:30. At that point, the skies were divided. To the left of us, the sky was blue- bright and endless, interrupted only by wispy clouds. On our right was trouble. Grey clouds, thick and ominous that were slowly forming what was going to be an unrelenting storm. 

Melonhead

“How does he do it?!” I manage to cry out, mid-chew. The brighter than red huge hunk of watermelon I’m digging into is perfect. It’s firm, the tiny cells of the fruit are closely knit, exploding only as my teeth breaks through their structure. The texture is exactly what I look for in a watermelon: crispy, and only slightly “sandy”. It’s juicy and sweet as candy.

“Your dad always picks the best watermelon.” I conclude, holding the rind at arm’s length as my last bite sends juices flying down my light coloured shirt.

It’s true. Every watermelon I have eaten this summer at the Lee’s has been impeccable. When I ask Bruce’s dad about the secrets of seeking out the best watermelon, he’s modest.

“Easy!” He would laugh. “Make sure they are heavy.”

Still, my mom’s brought home some not so great melon. Another friend offered some to me that also wasn’t great. I’ve tried picking ones out myself. But they’re all heavy to me.

We learned a little secret from a farmer at the market this past weekend about picking cantaloupe.

Summer lovin’

The awesome thing about coming to the market, is we get to see new produce unveil themselves each week. It’s pretty exciting.

We get to our spot at around 6 a.m., park the car and unload everything. It takes about 25 minutes to set up the canopy, table, wind-proof the signs and lay the caramels, marshmallows and everything real nice. At 6:30 we’re ready to go, but the even hardcore market go-ers won’t start trickling in until about 7am.

In that quiet half hour, we sit on our cooler and decompress from the week. We always half joke to each other about how we should take alternating naps in the car. Business for us usually picks up around 10 am. It’s hard to find people to sample caramels let alone buy any before that. But then around 9 am, when we’ve both finally fully waken up, we take turns walking through the market.

I’ll never forget a few weeks ago when Bruce came back to the table after his stroll.

“Sweet peas are here.”

The crazy weekend with all the nougat

I can still taste it: the slightly chewy candy studded with almonds and pistachios. The texture is chewy, but tender enough that it gives under the thin, almost transparent layer of wafer paper. The delicate floral notes of honey is the perfect marriage to toasted almonds and the crisp, buttery pistachios.

That is the magic of French nougat.