This morning my wife dragged me along to the farmers’ market in Minneapolis. There are numerous farmers’ markets in our area; the St. Paul one is more pristine, as it does not allow any vegetables or fruits grown more than 50 miles away. There are many smaller markets, too. But Minneapolis is a free for all: in fact, a mini State Fair. This was a revelation to me. As we walked around the farmers’ market, which includes not just locally grown vegetables but fruits like bananas and peaches, foot-long corn dogs, sunglasses, espresso stands, one-man bands, cooking competitions, buffalo meat, ready-to-eat corn on the cob and much more, I realized that Minnesotans can’t wait until nearly the end of August for the State Fair to begin. Minneapolis’s farmers’ market offers a sort of preview.
The pictures I took don’t begin to convey the scope of the market or the size of the throng that descends on it on a Saturday morning. This is just one of a number of open-air structures:
If it’s August in the Midwest, tomatoes are at the top of everyone’s shopping list:
Many of the vendors are Vietnamese:
Most of the vegetables are traditional Midwestern fare:
Although some are exotic:
We stopped to watch a chef’s challenge-type cooking demonstration, and a guy standing next to us introduced himself as a Power Line reader. That happens a lot, and we always appreciate it. If you bump into one of us when you are out and about, please do say Hi.
Before we left, we stopped off at a trout vendor’s booth. My wife bought trout from him a couple of months ago, and they were the best I have ever tasted. So we bought more this morning. Dinner!
Of course, you can’t spend all day shopping for groceries, even in a venue as fun as the farmers’ market. My son and I hadn’t been to the range for a couple of weeks, so I booked a lane for this afternoon. We shot my .22 rifle and our four 9 mm. handguns. I am a bit frustrated that I don’t seem to be getting better:
On the other hand, at my age I should probably be glad I’m not getting any worse!
OK, gotta go–dinner bell just rang.