The Foggie Neuk (pronounced / foe-ghee nuke /

I love a Farmer’s Market.  It makes me feel all wholesome and not at all annoyed that wicker baskets catch your clothes.  Moving through the fayre in a hazy too blue-eyed miscast Julie Christie sort of way in ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’ or Kate Bush in that red velvet video for ‘The Sensual World’, maybe even Snow White, tra-la-lahing pre-apple.  Like I probably would have been besties with Thomas Hardy and could easily milk a cow if required.  Mostly I love them for the carbs.  Unabridged, glorious, butter-filled, it’s-only-once-a-month carbs from ‘The Culinary Kiwi Bird’ artisan baker.  I long to be the kind of person who likes sourdough and suffering, sadly am not.

This month’s delights; ‘Futtle’s Orange Spiced Rum Shrub Almond Croissant’, ‘Chilli Jam and Cheese Twist’, ‘Lemon Cream and Thyme Cruffin’.  I had to Google.  Apparently, a ‘cruffin’ is a cross between a croissant and a muffin that looks like a tall cinnamon roll.  Proof that God not only exists, but drizzles blissful blessings upon us through the beatitudes of cake.

Pretending moderation and balance, I usually buy protein from the crab guy, but he was a no show today.  Sometimes he sleeps in.

I never buy from the guy who sells venison as I have a horrible suspicion it is mostly road kill. (Allegedly).  There is a bona fide butcher who sometimes sells emu eggs.  They are speckled deep grey-green and very beautiful.  I don’t buy them either.  Not sure why the thought of eating anything other than hen eggs gives me the heebie-jeebies. Even duck.  Nope.

Top tips; get there early, mostly so you can leave before the guy with the amp and the guitar starts ruining everybody’s fun.  Why is there always an amp, were they not seen as a child?  Take small change.