Mr. Bradley and Me
Feb. 14, 2012Written by Jenny Best, Slow Food USA Chief of Staff
A couple weeks ago, I overslept and didn’t make it to my Saturday farmers market until well into the afternoon. And, as any regular market shopper will tell you, there’s slim pickins so late in the day. Which I knew. But if you are like me, not going to the market at all is akin to skipping coffee when you normally have it – you’ll be in a grumpy mood, and likely have a headache all day.
Many of the farmers were already packing up their trucks when I arrived at the market, getting ready for their trek back upstate. In fact, only a few stands remained. Stray root vegetables lingered, rejected from earlier buyers.
Feeling a bit silly with my big (and empty) woven basket bag, I walked up to the Bradley farmstand to see if anything was left. As I suspected, not much in sight. A few rutabegas, an onion or two. I approached Mr. Bradley – who had once jeered me out of his stand for wearing a t-shirt sporting the logo of a trendy pickle maker (Mr. Bradley sells his own pickles and swears they’re better) – and I asked him if he had any shallots left.
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