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Posts tagged ‘farmers market’

Seattle Ballard: Sunday Farmers Market

In Seattle, a friend in Ballard recommends a visit to their neighbourhood’s weekly farmers’ market. Despite the forecast for intermittent morning showers, I’m lured by any stroll through a market for bright harvest colours and freshly prepared food.

A slow meander through the stalls, letting curiosity be the guide. Fresh apples and pears here; ripe plump tomatoes there. From an assortment of red and yellow peppers; to an array of yellow and green gourds. Quickly, the appetite is on high alert. Quesadillas prepared fresh from the grill. Hot from the fryer, little donuts sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. Happy dogs walking their humans; couples strolling with children; others sitting on the curb for a chat, nosh, and sip.


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Wochenmarkt, Saturday farmers market, Neuenheimer Markt, Markplatz, Neuenheim, Heidelberg, Germany, fotoeins.com

My Heidelberg: Saturday farmers’ market in Neuenheim

In Heidelberg, the farmers’ markets are held regularly throughout the week at a number of locations throughout the city and region. One of six Saturday markets takes place across the Neckar river in Neuenheim. Most visitors in town will visit the Saturday market in Heidelberg’s Marktplatz, which leaves the other five Saturday markets pretty much “clear and free” to residents. And as I arrive at the market square in Neuenheim, it’s clear I’m in the minority, literally and figuratively. This is not criticism and it’s not a negative, as I used to come here occasionally when I lived here. I say as much to the various vendors, when I buy a cup of coffee, some cherry tomatoes, a piece of cake, and three empanadas.

Fresh fruit and vegetables, grown locally and imported from around Europe. Fresh bread and baked goods from a regional bakery. Fresh herbs, grown locally; fresh flowers, grown locally. Honey harvested from bees at a regional apiary. “Empanadas Argentinas”, by a woman from Córdoba who’s lived in Germany for over ten years. And there are fresh cuts of meat, tubs of olives, and glorious varieties of cheese from around Europe.

It’s time to stop eating and leave, when the vendors begin to pack. Another market, another day.

When I leave Heidelberg, no small measure of wistful longing remains; these are my streets, and this is one of my markets.

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