San Francisco Market

At lunch yesterday I wandered out of my one and a half block radius from the office and walked straight into a farmers market at the Crocker Galleria on Sutter. I heard it before I saw it, a low hum, high heeled and button upped professionals nudging peaches for ripeness, sorting through bunches of basil, each one brought up to their nose, swinging bags of mixed greens topped with orange, blue and purple petals. The sales were smooth, efficient, cash in hand, punctuated with smiles. There was laughter. I thought I saw someone wink.


Penniless I found an ATM before I joined in and immediately bought the sexiest chard I've seen from Happy Boy Farms. They also had the first good looking heirloom tomatoes that fit into the palm of my hand, both of which put color in my cheeks. I found salsa. Salsa that brought tears to my eyes. Literally. It was wicked, made in Hollister by Swank Farms. All the ingredients from the land, nothing unpronounceable added. There were milder versions but I didn't bother. The strawberries were everywhere. Flawless strawberries, organic and not. I had to stop myself from buying them twice. I overheard someone ask for a case and then smiling myself, satisified, walked the three blocks back to the office, tomatoes and chard swinging side to side.