Saturday mornings I go to the farmers market alone. This is intentional. No one to negotiate with, no one to hurry for. Just me, a canvas bag, and whatever looks good.
This week: a bunch of rainbow chard that was so beautiful I almost felt bad cooking it. Heirloom tomatoes in three colors. A wedge of aged manchego from the cheese vendor I've been loyal to for two years. A bottle of local rosé because it was there and it was Saturday.
Lunch was the tomatoes with the manchego, good olive oil, flaky salt, and bread. That's it. When the ingredients are right, the recipe is almost an insult.
The chard became dinner — wilted in garlic and olive oil, served alongside a piece of fish I didn't plan but found at the last stall. The rosé was opened at noon. I regret nothing.
Shop Maison Todd
If it's on this blog, it's probably at Maison Todd.
