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Saturday, November 20, 2010

I rarely make it to the outdoor market here.  The largest one in town is on Saturday, and you have to get there before noon.  I firmly believe that Saturday is for not doing anything before noon.  

But last night, I got a terrible craving which I knew could only be satisfied by hauling my sorry butt out of bed and into the freezing gloom of the November morning, in order to go to the market to purchase a bundle of what I needed: radishes.  A bunch of lovely magenta and cream-colored radishes (to be eaten with a baguette and piles of salty butter), snappy in both texture and taste, was all I could think about.   

But really, is there a cheerier root vegetable?  I don’t think so. 
 
Arriving late to the market (I cruised in around 1) can be slightly dangerous as the vendors are more willing to push whatever leftovers they have on you.  Today was no exception.  I walked away from a stall with a whole lot more radishes than I was planning, plus one rather sinister-looking vegetable that la vendeuse referred to as a radis noir.  After inquiring, she said I could just slice it really thin and eat it as it is.  

It looks to me like something from a Grimm’s fairytale; can’t you just picture Rapunzel’s father, creeping into his neighbor’s garden in the moonlight and digging up one of these enchanted roots for his desperate, pregnant wife?           



Yes, I included a gratuitous shot of my beloved radishes, washed and de-whiskered.

1 comment :

Ice Queen said...

One of these things is not like the others...

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