Atlanta Farmer’s Market

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to the Farmer’s Market,” says Katy. “You’re the Amateur Gourmet!”

Her husband, Josh, agrees. “It’s really embarssing for you,” he says. “It’s like this horrible secret that no one knows about.”

Chris expressed similar sentiments last night. “It’s like you’re living this big lie.”

So today I finally broke and called up Josh and Katy and said: “Fine! Fine! I’ll go with you to the Farmer’s Market!”

Granted, I said this while the phone was still ringing. When I finally got through I casually mentioned a possible Farmer’s Market visitation, and Katy immmediately jumped.

“So you’re saying you want to go to the Farmer’s Market?” she asked enthusiastically.

“I guess that’s what I’m saying,” I replied.

“Well well well,” she said proudly. “Our little boy’s all grown up.”

So I made my way–ah, let’s do this in present tense–I make my way over to Josh and Katy’s and they are outside waiting.

“He’s here!” they sing in unison.

“I’ll follow you guys there,” I say. “I want to go to Border’s afterward.”

“Ok! Ok!” They get into their car. I get into mine.

We begin driving. The weather is rainy. I begin to wonder if today is a good Farmer’s Market day and then I remember that, according to Chris, the Farmer’s Market is indoors.

Here’s a picture of the drive:

Finally, we get there. Josh and Katy point the way:


“It’s over there!” they inform me.

“Can you guys stop talking in unison?”

They nod together.

We make our way over. Here is the last picture I’m officially allowed to take:


After that, there is a sign that says “NO PHOTOGRAPHS! NO VIDEO RECORDING!” I find this rather odd for a Farmer’s Market, but I don’t say anything.

So we begin walking the aisles. Josh and Katy have an agenda: groceries to buy, things to plan. I am just there to watch.

“Aren’t you going to buy anything?” asks Josh.

“Nah,” I say. “I’m just here to look.”

“Ohh, come now,” says Katy. “Surely there must be something you want to buy.”

They lead me over to the spices.

“Look at these spices!” they say. “Look how cheap they are! And look how much you get!”

“Yes, they are cheap,” I say. “And you do get a lot.”

They lead me down the produce aisles.

“Look at all this produce!” they cheer.

It is true: there is a lot of produce. And the value is great. There are many people there scooping up produce by the armful.

“Ahh!” says Josh. “I know!’

He scampers off and returns with a yellowish ball with five fingers coming out of its head.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s a hand of Buddha! For your website! A strange fruit!”

I accept the Hand of Buddha, despite my Jewish upbringing, and begin to have fun.

“Whoah!” I say. “Look over there! Fish!”

Josh, Katy and I run over to the fish section. There are live crabs snapping at children, lobster tanks, and giant glass aquariums with huge fish floating sadly in limbo.

“Oh my God!” I say. “Look how big that fish is!”

“You see!” says Josh.

“You see!” says Katy.

“The Farmer’s Market is great!” they say in unison.

“I know!” I say.

“Hey!” I add. “Let me take a picture!”

“But…” says Katy.

“I’ll do it covertly,” I promise.

I sneak the camera out of my pocket and snap this shot as Katy and Josh scout out for the fuzz.


“Quick, run!” they say, and scurry off with their wagon.

I watch them scurry into the parking lot, tying the wagon to their car with rope and hopping in like Bonnie and Clyde. The speed off as the Farmer’s Market police chase them, sirens blaring and bullets spraying.

I sigh with gladness. I have been to the Farmer’s Market.

1 thought on “Atlanta Farmer’s Market”

  1. Why didn’t you eat at the farmers market?? That was part of the fun!

    I moved away 5 years ago and still miss it…

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