Buenas Tardes, Martes

Yellow Cauliflower and Romanesco

Shopping at the Tuesday farmers market in Monterey did not hold its usual charm for me today.  I almost didn't go, but the desire for fresh thai chili inspired me to skip my second nap of the day.  My finds were worth the effort:  fresh snap peas, oranges, strawberries, colored mini calla lillies, and a beauteous romanesco......but not a single thai chili to be had.  I enjoyed my usual small talk with my favorite vendors, and I continue to be amused when they speak to me in Spanish.  It started years ago, when they would greet me in Spanish and I would respond.  The great part is that as a local, they remember me. The only problem is that they remember me as the Spanish speaker I am not.  I'm part to blame for the charade, because I don't want to lose the familiarity.  I can usually stumble through the money part of the conversation.  Then I feel foolish and a fraud and wish my best friend were there to help me our of my conversation quandary.

I am astonished at the lack of etiquette I've experienced at the Tuesday market.  Why must people wander aimlessly, stopping to eat their sample strawberry in the middle of a stream of foot traffic?  At many of my favorite vendor's stands, people pick their produce and thrust their bags at the vendor without even greeting them.  I'm an educator and truly love children, but I don't love it when I am cut off by their parents pushing their double wide high tech strollers while the whole family shares a gyro.  What bothers me the most is the total lack of awareness of others that some people have.

I asked the vendor who sold me snap peas and oranges about the day and he shared my sentiment: "Not a good crowd.  People just here to look."

Bah, humbug.  Better luck on Friday.  In the meantime, tomorrow's menu includes a twist on Mom's Cream of Cauliflower Soup.  I wonder what she would say to see me substitute the giant chartreuse and purple monster pictured above?

Farm Fresh Produce

Highway 1, Moss Landing

Smells have a way of evoking memories, and there is something about walking into Farm Fresh Produce, the fruit stand located in Moss Landing on Highway 1, that evokes very early memories for me.  It is possibly the commingling of ripe fruit scents as they collect in the awnings of this fruit stand that never closes.

This sign makes me wonder if the produce stand and the San Jose market are connected.  Inside, I find local honey and cheap produce.  I know the asparagus, avocados, and pineapple I buy are not organic and likely seconds that were not selected for store retail, but I don't care.  I buy them all in a trance caused by this scent that has awakened something in the depths of my memory.

Dusty packages of dried fruits are stacked on shelves next to orchids plants and candy I remember wanting as a child.  There are sesame crisps made with honey that my mother used to give me.  As when I was a child, there are all sorts of things to discover. Today's discovery is a sort of citrus I have never seen before: Shasta tangerines.  They look warty and alien to me, but I buy one anyway, just to see what it tastes like.  I smile to myself as I pick the ugliest one.  As a child I used to pick the ugliest pumpkin on the patch, imagining that its feelings would be hurt to be overlooked by children wanting a perfect jack-o-lantern pumpkin.  I must have watched too many Charlie Brown specials.

Shasta tangerines

Its exterior looked tough and impenetrable, but it peeled surprisingly easily.  In contrast to the tough interior, the juicy segments were encased in tender membranes.  In this case, following my childish instincts led to a new discovery.

I have very few childhood memories, and I can't recall a specific day of being at the San Jose flea market.  I will probably never fully recall this memory or know anymore about it, since I have no sibling with whom I shared the experience.  I was probably there often.  All I know is that there is an ephemeral smell that hits me when I walk near this produce stand, and sensing it makes me feel happy.

Incredibly Cool Discovery in Monterey County

According to the The Monterey Herald, "The bones of a juvenile Ice Age Columbian mammoth have been found in a field near Castroville, the first discovery of its kind in Monterey County."  See Localite Links for more information.

Free Tomato Babies to Good Homes

Friends, family and past readers of this blog will remember a certain tomato mania that strikes me every spring. There is something so rewarding about growing my own food, even if it just a small amount.  This is my third year growing tomatoes two blocks from the beach, and my quest to discover which varietals grow best in the various micro climates of Monterey County continues.

Last year I started my seeds on March 15.  Though I shuttled my seeds flats indoors every evening and out again every morning, there was very little danger of frost hurting the tender plants.   This year's early spring inspired me to start my plants earlier (February 19), and as a consequence these lovelies are enjoying today's Saturday sun:

even though I did considerably more shuttling.

I always feel foolish when I go to the store and find much bigger plants at ridiculously low prices, but the charm in starting my own lies in the varieties that I don't find in stores.  This years varieties include: Amish Paste, Reigart, Brandy Wine, Riesentraube, Stupice and Annelise.  Except.....I may have gone overboard.  My current count is 552.  So, who will join me in the joy of growing tomatos from home?  Free tomato babies to good homes!

River Road Wine Trail Valentine's Passport

Today was such a gorgeous day in the Salinas Valley, no one could have guessed that it is the middle of winter. The twelve wineries which make up the River Road Wine Trail opened their doors with plenty of wine, food and music.  My friends and I only managed to make it to five of the twelve wineries:  Marilyn Remark, Hahn Winery, ParaisoVineyards, Sycamore Cellars and Sheid Vineyards. 

Sycamore Cellars, Greenfield

Paraiso Vineyards, Soledad

Soledad, California from Hahn Wineries

Hahn Winery, Soledad

The Santa Lucias from Hahn Winery

Fortunately, we left plenty of places to visit next year.  Unfortunately,  I forgot to take pictures of the wine.  In fact, I forgot to take pictures after the first couple of wineries........

Fresh Eating in the Middle of Winter

Winter Greens, MPC Farmer's Market

California BBQ, Soledad

On a recent trip to Arizona, I was attracted to and impressed by the following BBQ contraption, complete with dual muffler exhaust:

Babe's BBQ, Camp Verde, Arizona

Anecdotally, folks in this part of Arizona seem to scoff at Californians who move in and try to change the status quo.  There's no debating it: Arizona and California are very different. The ribs were sweet, smoky, sticky and a perfect send off as we headed back to California.

Until today, I figured that our Santa Maria neighbors had the monopoly on the California barbecue scene.  There is definite history behind the Santa Maria tri-tip barbecue, which perhaps we will visit in the future.  But today, after a gorgeous winding drive down River Road, I discovered that south Monterey County not only challenges the presumption that Santa Maria is the California barbecue mecca, it scoffs at it.

Soledad Super Bowl BBQ Fundraiser, Soledad American Legion Hall

Chicken and Local Swiss Sausage for the Cooking Crew

Soledad Bean Pot.  Yikes.

The Soledad Rotary Club and the American Legion partnered up today to  raise money for the Soledad community by selling a half-chicken BBQ lunch complete with beans, local salad, homemade salsa, local roll and soft drink.  And not just any barbecued half chicken, these babies were grilled over some serious hardwood coals.  Arriving early allowed a behind the scenes views of the BBQ crew in action (permitted as long as one stays behind the painted green line).  Fortunately, this localite scored a line pass (pair of tongs) and got the honor of handing out the chicken in the serving line. (Wait........ honor? Or hazing?)

I still haven't gotten the smoke out of my hair.