Saturday mornings in Saint-Etienne are all about the farmer's market. I've been lazy and stuck to the one by my house which occupies what normally serves as a parking lot. But on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and yes, Saturdays, the lot, framed by apartment buildings and a lone bar named "Le Pub Fiction," is overrun by farmers peddling their wares. Potatoes, apples, pears, lettuce, fresh herbs, pumpkins, radishes, cucumbers, berries, broccoli, cauliflower (in white, green, and purple varieties), are among the produce selection. Dairy products ranging from briques of pure cow's milk cheese, chèvre and brebis (goat and sheep's milk cheeses), homemade yogurt, and eggs can be found on the perimeter. Pork, beef, and poultry farmers also represent, with an emphasis on pork (pork-based products being a regional specialty). These ruddy-faced stéphanois sport blood-tinged aprons and meat cleavers, serving customers from caravans with hanging hams and rows of sausages.
Which brings us to my point about markets being like circuses. It could be the presence of caravans that first gave me a circus-y feeling. Or it could be the sights to behold, e.g. mutant strains of cauliflower or oddly shaped vegetables - Corinne adopted a cucumber that looked like it was sprouting two more cucumbers. Interesting sidenote: Europe recently relaxed its rules on the sale of "ugly" fruits and vegetables (thus explaining the curious absence of "overly curved, extra knobbly or oddly shaped produce from supermarket shelves," and the abundance of said deformed bounty of nature at the farmer's markets).
Mostly, though, I think it's the farmers themselves. I can easily picture one of the pig farmers as a circus strongman, wrestling with a massive side of ham. In some cases, though, no imagination is necessary.
Take my favorite fruit farmer, whose name I still don't know even though I see him every week to buy a kilo or so of his Gala apples. And by buy a kilo or so of his Gala apples, I also mean chat with, admire, and generally oggle him.
Corinne: You mean that guy? He looks kind of like a goat...
Yes, apparently I have a thing for goat-like men. My apple man is tall and broad-shouldered, with charcoal hair and a really becoming goatee (trust me). His eyes crinkle and twinkle when he smiles, which is often. He wears the same sweater every time I see him, a faded navy blue wool knit that looks worn and mended.
So he's a dreamy goat-like man. I think if he headlined at a circus, his act would be entitled "Mephistophelian goat man." He would probably hypnotize hapless young women by juggling apples and dazzling them with his smile. The women, in turn, would stand zero chance of escaping his charms (and not buying his fruit).
My favorite circusesque farmers are the dairy duo from whom I buy my goat and sheep cheese. A married couple (presumably, though they might well be brother and sister) they are as old as their caravan, which looks like a throwback to gypsy wagons of yore. Round and plump, their rosy cheeks contrast with the snow white color of their sheep (yes, they have photos of their sheep lining the walls of the caravan). Their leathery hands with neatly clipped fingernails take great care when packing bricks and patties of all sorts of fresh cheeses in sheets of wax paper.
Usually, though, I can't help staring at their faces. The man has a glass eye that always trips me up when he looks past me asks me with grandfatherly warmth, "Qu'est-ce que vous désirez, mademoiselle?" The woman has more facial hair than he does, but the mustache suits her, as does the furry mole that dots her left upper lip. Both are missing teeth but don't seem to mind as they smile their gap-toothed smiles and move on to the next customer.
I'm not sure what act they would do. She could definitely play the part of the bearded lady (perhaps modfied to be "heavily mustached lady"). He might be the man with the magic eye?
I'm open to suggestions.
The market
Vegtastic
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2 comments:
Love this post!
great description Katie Grace. wish I were there.
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