The Market

When I was a girl my grandma Bess lived in Manhattan and my family lived on Long Island. We would go in once a week to see her. I believe it was Sunday nights though I could be wrong on that... My father loved a market that we would visit after taking my grandma out for dinner and then home. My sister,  brother and I loved those visits or at least I think they did. I know I loved them. The place was,  I suppose a gourmet market. My Dad and I have always loved dried apricots so I remember that most. I am sure they had beautiful, gourmet items.  I just wanted those peel and eat  plastic apricot skins (came in other flavors too) and the apricots of course. It was something really special those visits to the market. I was thinking of that today as Mark, Kevin and I were coming home from todays'  Coconut Grove trip. You see the experience is quite different. They don't like going... I used mothers' guilt to get them to come by saying I missed them, and bribery by offering I would buy all the lemonade and juices they  could carry.  Well it is hot there at this time of year and the bags get heavy as there are no carts. Their mother kind of disappears into this hippie wanna be in bliss with the surroundings and inspired by  fellow shoppers.   Kevin in the meantime was still questioning what and where the plum tomatoes were.  Mark was stuck on zucchinis. 

 I love to hear Tracy, (the owner)  yelling acrross the market at her husband Stan, creating tumult and drama, She is  you could say  a colorful person,  but what a passionate one!!  I love the earthiness of the place,  the food,  the scene, the energy. Most of all,  the different kinds of people who attend.  I know my boys  won't quite have the memories of a beautiful, tranquil market, but maybe they will remember those  days at the market when their mother was trying to teach them about real food...the good side of life.  xo  ginny