Stuff White People Like – Farmer's Markets, and Goats
Sean and I spent Saturday in Collingwood, at the organic Farmer’s market. The usual assortment of goods awaited us – locally grown organic vegetables (other than strawberries, not much local fruit is in season yet), grass raised beef and pork, kitschy wooden goods (including some cute pet bowl stands that my dogs would chew through in about an hour), and a young girl leading a Native(ish) drum circle.
Call me cynical, but I start giggling when I see very earnest young people talking about connecting with ‘mother earth and sister sky’ while they pound on a drum. Speeches, no matter how well intentioned, about ‘letting the spirit of our people flow through us’ become hard to take when delivered in the middle of downtown Collingwood (quite possibly the whitest place in Ontario) by a blond girl with dreads.
Plus, hippies make me itchy.
We bought some awesome plum jam, and a jar of peach chutney. I am enough of a displaced Brit that I still think chutney is the perfect accompaniment to a roast beef sandwich, whereas Sean thinks chutney is made by the devil. He swears it smells like brimstone, which is pretty tough words coming from a man who eats Haggis of his own free will.
We then grabbed some local brie and a really great loaf of chewy bread, and ate lunch over looking Nottawasaga Bay.
Our drive to Collingwood is through some of southern Ontario’s most beautiful scenery. We pass though the Grey Highlands and into the Blue Mountains, avoiding the main roads for the scenic routes. We had to stop to allow a very fat, very cranky porcupine to amble his way off the gravel and into the shrubbery, while I fumbled for the camera and contemplated whether or not porkies really can toss their quills. By the time I found it, he was off into the woods.
Tomorrow is Tuesday, and since Sean is off we’re going to head up to my favorite market, Keady. It’s a combination livestock market and Farmer’s market, and last time we went I was thisclose to coming home with a goat. In my defense, it was a super nice goat – very affectionate and dog like. I’m pretty sure I could fit a goat into the back of the Element. It would be nice for Delilah to have a friend.
(btw, this blog entry title is taken from the frighteningly accurate blog “Stuff White People Like” – this entry, in particular)
Every year, my older brother David sends me a box of jars of Chutney for Christmas, and every year, I throw the box away. For goodness sake, after 50 years, he should know better. I don’t cook. If I make sandwiches, it’s either bologna and cheese, bologna and mustard, or, hang on tight now, bologna, cheese, AND mustard. He KNOWS that.
What exactly is chutney? The first time that I received a box, I opened a jar and tasted some on a cracker just to make sure I wasn’t accidentally throwing away something edible. I’m like Clovis that way, very cautious about wasting food. It wasn’t food. It was, too put it mildly, foul tasting and full of some kind of seeds that stick in your teeth. My teeth anyway.
Maybe I should give my brother your address.
Don’t get the goat. They are too smart to be barnyard animals and too messy in their hygiene to be house pets.
I’m so jealous of your Element — I’m desperate for a lovely bright green one ;o)
And I adore chutney — being a psuedo-displaced Brit myself. And farmer’s markets — I go just about every week.
:: off to ponder the implications of this ::
ellen’s last blog post..to do: buy jumbo muffin pan