So this past Thursday–as on every Thursday–I went to the farmer’s market just down the block where merchants flock to sell their fresh wares and apparently no baked goods except those produced in large-scale commercial kitchens are allowed. (Go figure.) Still, I love this weekly market, and my friend and I have frequented it so often that we’ve become–to my eternal delight–regulars! The bolani man and the produce guy know our names, and will usually slip some little extra goodies into our bags. Like any well-formed insecure person, I like to please, and so I usually get something every time … Read more
