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The whole reason I wanted to go to the farmer's market was to buy meat. I got a Netflix trial last week, and finally watched "Food Inc." which increased the number of generally icky feelings I have towards our food industry. (Admittedly, not enough to turn down fried chicken on a waffle.) So I got some ground beef and eggs and bratwurst from the Windy Hill Farm guy and had a lovely conversation about the slaughtering regulations for assorted animals. (He can kill his own poultry and rabbits, but has to send his pigs, cows and lambs to a slaughterhouse in Greensboro.)
Then Sarah and I were enticed over to Pickleville. The friendly proprietor (a Jew from Philly who used to make pizzas and now makes pickles) let us try a million kinds of pickles, and I wound up spending five bucks on a tub of the most amazing pickles ever. I got half regular dill (light years beyond Vlasic) and half "half-sour" which I guess aren't pickled as long and so are a little fresher tasting.
Maybe tonight's dinner wasn't picturesque, but damn was it good. (Two kinds of pickles..!! Bratwurst from a pig who got to root around in the forest and eat real pig food!!)
And finally...the best thing to come out of my farmer's market trip? A Christmas tree!!!!!!!
It's the blanket I almost threw up in!!
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