I’ll Take a Side of Brussel Sprouts with That

6 Dec

I have to be honest.  It’s been 5 months (!#?!*@!?) here in The City and it’s been love/hate every day.  Anyone who tells you it’s tough to live here is telling the truth.  It is tough.  Most days are a struggle:  to get places, to force your way onto a very, very, very full subway car and hope not to get fondled (or worse) in the process, to get people to help you in stores and show the smallest ounce of human decency and thoughtful intelligence, to trudge home tired and sore and still having to walk those 6 blocks home from the train station with all the groceries your orangutan arms can carry, to not go crazy living in an apartment where you can touch the walls from almost any sitting/sleeping position.

But there are the good things too.  Which I try to savor and cherish and soak in.  Because this is the other face of Manhattan.  In all its soul-sucking, I-don’t-give-two-shits-about-your-crappy-day stoniness, there is beauty and wonder and enchantment.

Especially in the vegetables.

Did you know that this is what brussel sprouts look like in their natural form?  (Okay, obviously they don’t grow in cut branches on top of tables, but you know what I mean.)  I didn’t know what the heck these things were that I’ve been seeing at my local farmer’s market until this sign hit me over the head.  Oh!  Wow!  (Does everyone else already know this?)

And carrots.  You wouldn’t believe the carrots.

I mean, I’d seen them with their tops and weird thready pointy bottoms at Whole Foods and such, but purple carrots?  Really?

This summer was a bonanza of color and flavor and loveliness.  I felt compelled to fashion my own Still Life with Eggplants:

Aren’t they beautiful?  There’s tons of other stuff at the farmer’s market.  Like the most addictive Jalapeno Cheddar Bread at Union Square and the free wine tastings from local vineyards and the cheese stalls and artisanal bacon people.

These people had yarn, which you just wanted to fondle and caress:

The winter is coming, so I’m not all together sure what happens to these glorious little fiefdoms of mouthy goodness, but I’m sure hoping the bread people make it to the Square each week.  Otherwise, it’s going to get a lot more hate/hate around here.

Rock on, people.



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