The Haymarket Hustle

Oh, how fond I am about fruits and vegetables. I could write a sonnet about the sweet scent of springtime strawberries. I could sing a lullaby about the earthy crunch of celery. I love to cook, bake and most importantly, EAT, and fresh ingredients are key to the way I create in the kitchen. I like to think I am Giada, though I can't rock the low-cut blouse the way she can. How does she stay so powder fresh in the kitchen? She's really something.

Boston's Best-Kept Secret.

It's not a new discovery, but I've just never taken part in Boston's own fresh farmers' market. Partly because I never venture out of Cambridge (which is ridiculous, since downtown Boston is approximately a 6-minute ride on the train), and partly because I rarely venture out of my apartment (only in the Winter, but yeah, I'm a hermit), I just haven't made the move to get out on Saturday and take advantage of this amazing experience.

The Haymarket is an open-air farmer's market that has been in existence since 1830. It's another one of those historical wonders that you can just stumble upon up here. The market is jam-packed with frantic people bustling, shouting and negotiating deals. It's like an auction. "I want 6 grapefruit! Give me the pink grapefruit! No, not that one, the other one!!" "Over here, a bag of onions and avocados! OVER HERE!" It's a rush of energy and attitude. I just love it. Old Italian broads shouting at the children to stop eating the fruit. Sweet Indian gentlemen clutching their wives' purses and patiently waiting while she feels each papaya for its stage in the ripe cycle. Every tribe and tongue is represented in the market and I just love feeling a part of this vibrant community. I am not very vibrant or cultured, but I can really appreciate this special intersection of all people, where we come together with one purpose: we want fruits and vegetables. Give us the fruits and vegetables.

Ladies Who Lunch.

I hit the market with my girlfriends, and oh wow, I can't believe I haven't been doing this all along! Not only did we have a blast (despite the a fore-mentioned bitter cold) but we made a remarkable discovery. At the market, EVERYTHING IS SO CHEAP. For example, Strawberries: 2 packs for $1.50. Blueberries: $1 each pack. Lemons: 6 for $1. I'm not making this up. Don't cry when you see the following, but... I got everything you see below for a grand total of TWELVE DOLLARS.

That's right. This probably would have cost $50 at Whole Foods. I got:

- 1 package carrots

- 1 package celery

- 1 large bunch spinach

- 1 bunch fresh rosemary

- 3 Roma tomatoes

- 2 packages strawberries

- 2 packages blueberries

- 1 package blackberries

- 5 plums

- 4 apples

- 3 oranges

- 3 kiwis

- 3 lemons

- 1 grapefruit

All for a grand total of $12.

I think I can actually hear Miss Fresh Life weeping all the way from Florida. Just come visit me and I will shower you with abundant and exotic fruits!

Score.

We had an absolute blast and scored mad deal. Stevie and I decided this is what we are doing for the rest of the weekends that we are here in Cambridge. Anyone up for deliciously cheap finds, outdoor fun, a historic treat and a lesson in cultures? Join me. Though I can't promise that I won't turn into a shouting Italian when I get there. I am easily influenced by passionate people.

City Musings: Ode to the Green Line

I take public transportation to work. It’s as grimy as it sounds.

DISCLAIMER: If you are my mother (or my mother-in-law), just stop reading. You will not like what is about to follow. Because although I am extremely thankful to take the Boston Subway (or MBTA, fondly known as “the T”) to work, I often encounter grimy-ness that can only be described as odious. Being squished up against strangers during rush hour, smelling their coffee breath, dodging their up-close and personal sneezes… it’s all a little stomach-wrenching. Especially in the wee hours of the morning. Actually, its equally as sick in the evening, too.

To be completely honest, I am thankful to live in a walking, community-oriented city that provides public transportation for its inhabitants. It’s a wild world out there (cue Cat Steven jam), and we are all just trying to find our way. Mostly to work, but occasionally our way also leads us to a new restaurant. Or bowling alley. I promise I’m not as grandmotherly as I sound (although, I have yet to gush about my new crochet project. Details to come.)

My personal work journey involves walking about 6 minutes to the T, taking two trains (red line, switch to the green line) and then walking about 6 more minutes to my office. Haymarket is one of my favorite stops, not necessarily because it leads me to my office, but it is also the stop that takes you to Boston’s historic Italian North End (to-die-for cannolis anyone?)

Hailing from Atlanta, where public transportation is only used by criminals (sorry MARTA), the initial thought of taking the subway to work just made laugh. With ironic glee. In Atlanta, my husband and I each had our own cars and frequently drove hundreds of miles per week. Just for life stuff. Church, family, work. In Georgia that’s just the norm. My new norm? I exist within about a 4-mile radius. And I never leave it. I have to attribute most of that to the MBTA. So as much as I complain about the T and its germ-laden handle bars, I am secretly relishing the city-girl lifestyle it provides me. And the lack of a car payment and insurance. Oh, and gas prices. I have stopped paying attention to gas prices. Don't cry, car owners.