In Which The Farmers Market Almost Undoes Me

I live in a home of 1950’s construction - one with funny little nooks and cabinets hung in unusual places. There is a niche dedicated to holding what was a full refrigerator at the time but by now, that same space can only be filled by an apartment-sized fridge. Which is fine - I’m single, I only need but so much food at one time anyhow… except… at the holidays.

For a couple of weeks now, in anticipation of my Thanksgiving food storage needs, I’ve been methodically working my way through all the extraneous bits and bobs that can accumulate in one’s fridge. (Do you guys end up with two open jars of the exact same condiment too, or is that a super-power unique to me?) The cleaning-out went well and I was feeling confident about the available space situation when I headed out the door to the farmers market yesterday morning.

I will not describe the mad-house that was the produce area - suffice it to say that I consider myself lucky not to have incurred an unfortunate brussels sprouts injury. (Seriously, these things could be used as cudgels!) 

Instead, let’s just say that I fought the good fight and obtained everything on my list.

I realized as I was loading up my car, however, that I had a problem. My haul consisted of nothing more than brussels sprouts, a head of broccoli, one of cauliflower, some kale, and five sweet potatoes, yet I had two overflowing bags and a stalk of sprouts that, quite literally, was as long as my leg. (And I’m the one who needs pants with a 36” inseam, remember…) My produce took up more space than a 10-year old child… yet it all needed to go into my modest refrigerator!

So when I got home, Project Produce Deconstruction was launched. I took the crisp bunch of kale and began to chop and de-rib, reducing its volume from that of an over-sized watermelon to something that fit nicely into a gallon-sized ziploc bag. The broccoli and cauliflowers were ruthlessly de-leafed, resulting in two neat heads that just about fit into the crisper drawer and an armful of stalk and leaves for the compost heap. Then I cleared off the countertop, maneuvered the cudgel stalk of sprouts so it dangled over the edge onto the cutting board, and began to excise the buds. Loose leaves drifted over my feet and I quickly filled up another gallon-sized ziploc bag. (I also bagged up the crown of leaves at the top, as the woman at the market assured me they are excellent when sauteed. I am slightly skeptical but willing to try…)

At last, everything was in convenient storage containers that fit nicely into the fridge - and with room left over, even! So I gathered up the detritus and headed outside, where I briefly channeled royalty; processing across my yard with a scepter of stalk, an armful of flowing vegetable leaves, and petals of Brussels sprouts gently strewing themselves along my way. It was a very enjoyable moment of fantasy - which ended abruptly when my foot (in its imaginary dainty slipper) squelched into the compost heap. 

Grinning, I tossed my regalia onto the pile and went inside to restore myself by sampling another purchase - cinnamon chip brioche rolls. With butter. And a cup of coffee.

Equilibrium Restored.

Let the holiday cooking begin!

Klingon Turkeys