Colours and sights and sounds and an overwhelming sense that this is how food really should be - so fresh that it still has dirt on it, ready to cook, ready to eat, ready to sink your teeth into the second you pass over that $10 note. Those loud, brash, clashing sounds of markets will always make me feel like a kid again, red-cheeked and wide-eyed, gripping my mums hand and skirt as we wandered through covered markets in Normandy. It's alarming and comforting at the same time - it makes you feel alive and yet it makes you feel so small. Going through markets, picking up this and that, maybe for lunch, maybe for later... It's an act of supreme humanity. We need to eat, so why not eat well? I love going back to the same Chinese grocer who insists on calling my dad "champ", which always makes me laugh, the lady who runs the cheese shop who always lets me try the $150/kg Saint Augur blue before I buy my modest Brie or Comte, the french woman who runs the basket stall who always chats with me in French and makes me want to start up lessons again. Every time we go we always seem to leave with the same things. Flowers (pink, natch), Beef from Spring Hill Butchers, Pastabilities Four Cheese ravioli, bunches and bunches and bunches of brocoli, basil and bok choy, at least 2 dozen eggs and a wedge of some cheese. Then we head home and plate it up and we dig in. It really is that simple.
Fox Studios (are we supposed to called it the Entertainment Quarter now? Sorry, force of habit) farmer's markets, Wednesday and Saturday 10AM-3:30PM.
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