farmer booty

My take from the farmers market included rainbow chard and baby beet greens, D'Avignon radishes, three kinds of cheese, a kale-and-garlic stuffed bread from Naga (where they grow and mill their own wheat -- welcome to Vermont, party people), more microbasil...but I think the highlights are the first strawberries of the season (I feel like I've been waiting my whole life, but in reality winter was a mere nine months long)


and fresh eggs.


While the yachtsman dreams of living on a boat (please don't make me), I fantasize about keeping chickens; if I could have a couple in our 740 square foot apartment, I would. This week, however, I bought my eggs from Boucher Family Farm, where the chickens have more square footage then I do, the lucky bastards. I mean, bitches. I mean, chickens.

P.S.
In an unfortunate turn of events that involved my dog bleeding profusely from the nose while I chased him with a wad of paper towels and cried hysterically, I was unable to make it to the first Summer Fry Fest. But the event was attended by the (vocal) majority of GFD's readership, who promised to take photos while they rudely had fun in my absence. I will post an update when I am updated.