Farmers' Market

Almost every weekend, John, Madeline, and I shop the Barton Creek Farmers' Market for our weekly produce, meat, and cheese. We started shopping there when I was a student at St. Edward's taking a class in foodways. John and I watched films like Food, Inc. and Fresh together, and it's possible our resulting horror motivated our initial commitment to the local market. But it's become so much more than that now, and also less at the same time.

At first our interest in local food stemmed from an academic pursuit that bordered on political belief. What's kept us going, week after week, every Saturday morning for more than a year now, is something much simpler: bottom line, we're eating better food.

I don't think you can buy one bunch of locally-grown beets and realize the impact that fresh food can have. It was only when we started buying most of our food at the market, eating organic fruits and vegetables and pastured meat and dairy week after week, that I noticed a difference. And maybe not even then. Because what kills me now is when we don't get to the market for some reason or another--maybe we leave town--and I am forced to fall back on products from the very good grocery stores surrounding our suburban neighborhood. The meals we prepare then can never quite compare. Returning to the market is always a relief I never would have expected.

I feel so lucky to live in a city with a variety of markets within a half-hour's drive of my house. It's a small joy I never hoped for or even anticipated. A tiara behind life's meat counter.