Wild Celery

Like yesterday, only 12 days away (I am counting the days). Up and out the door with reusable bags and our glass milk bottle for refilling (whole, homogenized). Our arms will be quite full upon return, so we'll park the car as close as we can. First the bread lady (two sm boules, one baguette), then the dairy man. We'll work our way over to the fish monger, past the pit beef stand (a line 20 people deep—without a doubt) over to the mushrooms (Don't touch the mushrooms. Thank you!). Local, in-season greens. Strawberries. Last stop, eggs. We can't leave without two dozen large, brown. If the pickle stand is manageable, perhaps a tub of spicy dill, maybe some olives. The coffee line will be long, but we could use a bag of Zeke's strongest.

Then, up and out into the street. We'll balance our bags while being mindful of broken glass and cars roaring through red lights.

"I didn't think it would be this busy so early." He'll say.

"I was just about to say the same thing." I'll say.

We'll load the car and travel back the few miles home.

"We forgot the bacon." I'll say.

For now we'll enjoy the wild celery given to us this past Sunday. A salad of young arugula, wild celery (stalks and leaves), spring onion, pine nuts, and pecorino dressed lightly with salt, extra virgin olive oil and red wine vinegar.

Asparagus, rapini, spring onions, wild celery...