Saturday in Portland means hunting and gathering at the Farmers Market. This time, Ann joined us. You see, it's not just farm fresh produce. There's craft cheese, lamb, hazlenuts, hard cider, baked bread, cookies, scones. . . .
There was one of those female fantasy books a few years ago about moving to Tuscany. In the book, she delighted the local market produce that burst with flavor into her mouth. Well, Portland has become more like other countries. Like old China, Portlanders ride bikes (while car ownership in China grows). Like the fabled Tuscan market, the local tomatoes burst in your mouth with flavor. Even more so than in Munich, local brews delight the palate. Like Northern Eurpopean countries, Portland & Oregon tax the Hell out of residents. (Strike that last setence.)
The morning market led to a fresh and delicious salad of crab, corn, tomato, basil, etc.
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