Our village has a market in the town square every Friday morning. I'd really meant to go before now, but because I just haven't been in the habit of going, I kept forgetting about it. Yesterday, I finally got myself pulled together in time to go check it out.
It was a blustery day yesterday, cold and windy with rain drizzling down, but this didn't keep anyone away. I joined the ranks of retired couples and housewives young and old, some with strollers in tow, to look over the wares. There was the usual assortment of things for sale: clothes arranged on hangers, shoes, even someone in a Singer van selling sewing machines (Singer is pronounced "sahn-jay" in French, which cracks me up). But what everyone really comes for is the fresh food.
Tables full of fresh vegetables seem to go on for miles (which is saying quite a lot for our little village). Some seasonal things are brought in from far away, like clementines, which Steph calls "Christmas fruit," which are brought in from Spain, but the vast majority of the offerings are grown right in this area. After fruits and vegetables you can find cheese, fish, a butcher, and finally a rotisserie stand, which smelled too good to resist. For only 6.50 euros, I brought home a piping hot rotisserie chicken and sauce for lunch.
Of course, what I wasn't counting on was that Steph was celebrating the last day of school and was snacking on cakes for three hours, so he announced that he wasn't hungry when he got home. I guess we'll be having some chicken sandwiches this weekend.