We’re having the outside of our house worked on this week — renewed trim and a new paint job — and this morning the work starting on removing the pieces of old rotten trim on the corner of the house right outside where our bed lies. So at 8:00 a.m. I was awoken by the sounds of saws and hammers and screeching trim.
As such I had a rare opportunity to listen to Island Morning on the radio, and I heard Karen Mair remind we listeners that the Charlottetown Farmer’s Market is open on Wednesdays. So around about lunch time, I heard Karen’s voice in my head, urging me on marketwise to eat.
Which is how I found myself, just before noon, on the bike, up University Ave. to Allen St. along Allen to the Confederation Trail and up the trail to the market.
Wednesday at the market is very different than Saturday: only about 1/2 the vendors, and about a quarter of the customers. So it’s claustrophobia-free with a smaller selection of food (tangent: can we stop using the term “ethnic food” to describe food that is not hamburgers and french fries — it doesn’t make sense in today’s Canada, where “regular” food is as likely to be chapati as it is french toast).
The altered food landscape caused me to depart from regular patterns, and so in addition to turning to Karin LaRonde for refreshing iced tea, I also ordered a bowl of her “oodles of noodles.” While I’m general averse to recipes that rhyme, this was a very good lunch: a bowl of noodles (oodles of them!) topped with stir fried vegetables and, at ones option, nuts and seeds and a tangy sauce.
Once I’d finished off my lunch (and returned my bowl to Karin as instructed — kudos to her for offering alternatives to styrofoam) I was going to head back to the office. But taking one last loop around I noticed that the Caledonia House Coffee booth had no line whatsoever in front of it — on Saturdays this never happens — and I took this as a sign that I should indulge in a rare cup of coffee (a piping hot mocha coffee, as it turned out).
I was fortunate at this point to run into Sandy and Dale and Riley and Bailey (and dog Cocoa) outside on a picnic table, and so passed a very pleasant half hour chatting with them before resuming my path back downtown.
So let this be a lesson to us all: when Karen Mair points the way, we should follow. Good food and good conversation (along with a sudden rush of caffeine) are apt to result.