Perhaps the most nourishing thing I do during the summer is start my Saturday mornings at the Cherry Street Farmer's Market. This is where I feed my soul for the week while buying food to feed our bodies. So, if you are so inclined, would you join me on a Tulsa Saturday Morning in August? Even though we're in late September and you are heaven only knows where?
Usually I start at the coffee house on cherry street but it was so hot by nine o'clock this morning that I thought it wiser to hit the market before the mercury hit 100.
The melon truck was still in business and I picked up a cantaloupe that smelled like heat and honey and left me breathless.
The melon truck was still in business and I picked up a cantaloupe that smelled like heat and honey and left me breathless.
I'm flying to Colorado monday morning... driving to OKC after lunch at a friend's house tomorrow so I'm not shopping for much today. I'm hungry for a good BLT though so I'm looking for tomatoes, bacon, bread. The lettuce is long gone here.
Pork & Greens is my favorite place for anything from a pig. sadly, they were out of bacon by the time I got there. The woman in front of me got the last pound. Fortunately, they're not the only supplier.
Greenwood Farms still had bacon. I didn't need eggs (their's are wonderful) and there's still some chorizo and smoked andouille in the freezer from a couple of weeks ago. The sweet italian sausage has been eaten up but I'll come back next saturday and stock up on that.
The only produce I need is tomatoes but I can't help but stop and look, talk and imagine - tucking ideas away in my head for future weeks. Not too future ... the market closes in October and that will be here before I know it.
My favorite produce vendor is Three Springs Farm. Some of the local restaurants buy their produce from them. It makes my day when I'm standing next to someone buying up half the truck and talking about the appetizer they're going to put on the menu that night to take advantage of whatever treasure they've found.
three springs farm
And yes, I believe we have found the tomatoes for dinner sandwiches. I feel obligated to note that I didn't edit the tomato picture at all except to crop it. And yes, the flavor is as intense as the color. I'm happy to just bite into one like an apple and let the juice run all down my face. There is nothing like a vine ripened tomato.
About this time I was feeling really grateful for the existence of thin, 100% cotton clothing. I wonder how the farmers are making it this year. It's been so mercilessly hot and dry for weeks.
I have my bacon, my tomatoes and I'm hot and hungry. Thinking it's about time I found my ritual almond pastry and headed to CHOCS to hide from the heat and recharge my body and soul.
mmm ... and there they are ...
So back down cherry street, pick up loaf of sourdough from Farrell Family Bread. The bambino eggplant almost made me cave and buy something I wouldn't be able to do anything with before leaving town tomorrow. So I settled for admiring them, chatting with their grower, and taking a picture.
I duck inside and immediately my soul lifts, my shoulders straighten. I love this place. The noise of happy conversation, espresso machines, the staff teasing, a baby laughing, extra fans running in every corner. I splurge and order a medium cappuccino. For here. This is not the to-go part of my week.
Oh. My coffee is up and it's beautiful.
Excellent. There's plenty of room left in the cozy reading nook and I score the corner table, cushy chair and footstool. Fistbump.
And now - breakfast.
The man across from me is absorbed in his cup of tea and magazine. I sit and go through the pictures I just took, hook into the free wifi, hang out on fb. 
And then. My coffee is gone.
really completely indisputably gone
So I go. There's laundry, bills, a dirty kitchen and unpaid rent waiting to be dealt with.
But it's all good.
All of it.
