Summertime Scrumptiousness

Is scrumptiousness even a word?  Spellcheck doesn’t think so.
I think I may have just created a new word.

With an abundance of fresh veggies and fruit bursting all around us, I’m feeling the need to chuck meat from my diet and just gorge on all the goodness available at local markets.

Luscious, blushing Georgia (and local) peaches are peaking right now (my fave).  The perfect breakfast.

All the markets are brimming with displays of bright red juicy tomatoes, colorful peppers, sweet baby potatoes, patty pan squash and dark green zucchini.  A feast for the eyes!

All this yumminess is available every day but Sundays and Mondays.  Our fridge and freezer are pretty small compact so we’re truly thankful there are daily Farmer’s Markets all around us for guaranteed local freshness.  There are cheerful bouquets of freshly harvested flowers available at many booths; I miss having cut flowers (available to snip at any time) right outside our kitchen door.  These really brighten up the table!

Almost everything is organic at the markets.  We also purchase fresh handmade pasta, genuine homemade Mexican tamales and enchiladas, artisan breads, honey, dried flavored beans for salad toppings, gourmet mustard, jams, cheeses, amazing balsamic vinegar, fabulous granola, grass-fed beef, free range chicken and eggs and even locally crafted organic salve for Zuma’s “elephant” elbows, etc.  We rarely shop at the grocery store.  When food this fresh is available and hasn’t traveled for hundreds or thousands of miles, eat local!

The vendors are happy to share their recipes and they are all delicious. There are some colorful, fun and funky people at the markets.

West Asheville is very cool with a vibrant population of hippie-like folks who are genuinely into the farm-to-table back-to-the-earth philosophy.

It’s so much fun going to the markets as Zu gets to meet lots of people.  There are cool dogs.
And cool people.

We’ve been here over five months and both the people at farm stands and the market shoppers recognize us and know Zuma’s name (“Hey!  Zuma!  Didn’t I see you Wednesday at the Farmer’s Market?!”  Followed by warm greeting and big hug).

She gets excited when we arrive, every market day is a party for Zuma.

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