Fresh and Mindful...

     Dozens of local (and some not quite as local) growers gather near Old Town Auburn each Saturday morning, their tables piled high with freshly picked fruits and vegetables. The Farmers Market offerings vary with the seasons, each season ushered in with its own unique colors and aromas. Gone now are the mandarins that dominated the Market just a couple months ago, replaced by summer's near-blinding bounty.

     This weekend, there are plums arranged in a palette of seven distinct colors. Did you realize there were seven plum colors? There are a shade of green somewhere between lime and ripe honeydew, two shades of red-violet, deep purple, nearly black, and golden... and a magical hue that I am struggling here to describe... I can see it clearly in my eye's memory... but my eye and my verbal cortex are struggling to communicate... so I/we are going to resort to metaphor, a story, and see if that works...

     There is a plum tree orchard that is home to a pair of very creative and very artistic fairies. It is their job to fly about painting the plums as they ripen, adjusting their palette each day as the plums swell and grow sweeter. There are an odd number of trees in the orchard, so the tree in the center has always been a point of contention for them. Armed with their teeny-tiny paint brushes, the two fairies approach the tree, each hoping to get there first and claim the tree as her own. This year, they arrived at exactly the same moment, so decided to share the task of painting the plums. One used golden yellow, the color of butter; the other, a deep violet with only the barest hint of red. As a result, each and every plum, painted with the finest, most delicate of brush strokes, is a wondrous swirl of gold and purple.

     Of course, the plums are but one of scores of different fruits and vegetables on display at the Farmers Market. Mounds of peaches, plums, melons, strawberries, and blackberries call to passersby with their silent aromas. Nearby, tomatoes of every shape and size, glow brilliantly as though lit from within, deep reds, from fire engine to burgundy, tangerine orange, golden rod, lemon yellow, and others that sport patterns of stripes and spots. Farther down are five kinds of cucumbers, some tiny, some long and slender, others grown into great curls, and of course, adorable lemon cucs. Across the way are summer squash and zuchinni in baby sizes: solid colors, stripes, spots, and half-and-half designs. There are cilantro, basil, parsley, and more herbs I don't know. Oh, and potatoes in three colors and shapes; onions, red, white, and green; and garlic.

   Whenever Saturday finds us both in town, Janiene and I meet for coffee and then head for the Farmers Market together. For a small sum, our cloth bags are filled to the brim. This weekly ritual is a wonderful jaunt, a festive stroll in the morning sun. It's like going to the fair (with out the rollercoaster and the screaming).

     All week, my colorful and flavorful Saturday purchases find their way into my menu and my mouth. A salad made with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and cilantro I bought at the "fair." For lunch, a giant artichoke. Tomorrow, I may steam potatoes with garlic and onions, and enjoy another salad. Almost as fresh as if I had raised them in my own garden, but lots less work and lots more fun!

This food is a gift of the Universe.

The earth, the sky, numerous living beings,

and much hard work contributed to its creation.

May I eat with mindfulness and gratitude,

so as to be worthy to receive it.

May I keep my compassion alive by eating in such a way

as to reduce the suffering of living beings

and preserve our planet. 

                                                (Adapted from Deer Park Monastery "songbook")

     There are Farmers Markets all around, almost everyday finds the traveling farmers in one of the little towns around here. The locations of the Auburn area Markets can be found here. Grass Valley area markets here.

My Regular Spot...

     Don't you just love to walk into a local eating establishment... knowing you'll be recognized and greeted as an old friend... and your favorite food or drink will be ready for you quick as a wink?

     Tucked away in Historic Old Town Auburn, in one of those quaint brick buildings from a bygone era, when sidewalks were boardwalks and fancy facades were all the rage, sits Mary Belle's Restaurant. Between two antique shops, across from the vintage red firehouse, and catty-corner from the post office, with its original filigreed mailboxes, in a building that previously housed, among other concerns, a hardware store, a drug store, and a Chinese restaurant, Mary Belle's is always a-bustle at breakfast-time.
     The narrow streets of Old Town were built for vehicles of that former era, so today's cars squeeze between their curbs. This exercise in navigation is well worth the effort. Recent years have brought a face lift to this small town's beauty, not a plastic "progress at all costs" kind of redo, but a thoughtful restoration project that has succeeded in bringing out her allure.
     The shingle atop the building enthusiastically invites passersby into Mary Belle's. Opening the door and stepping across the threshold transports you sweetly back in time. The Formica counter, with its swivel seats, is right out of the early 1960's. Waitresses call out a welcome, encourage you to take a seat, and quickly fill your mug with coffee. A family-owned business for nearly 50 years, Mary Belle's is the oldest restaurant in Auburn.
     The daily specials, like the regular fare, are all homemade from the freshest ingredients, much of it local produce. My favorites are the blueberry pancakes, made with a gazillion fresh berries, and the vegetarian eggs Benedict, with spinach substituted for the traditional ham and a "to die for" homemade Hollandaise sauce. For lunch, they make the best tuna melt sandwich in the world, bar none.

     The irony is that I only discovered this landmark restaurant in my hometown a few years ago. It wasn't that I had just never gotten around to trying out Mary Belle's menu; it was that I didn't even know it existed! How many times I must have driven or walked right past it, I can't even imagine. But, thankfully, one day not long ago, I did venture in and partake of their delightful fare. Now, it's my regular spot, and I have never, ever been disappointed.

     A couple times a month, of a weekend morning, I arrange to meet either Sandra or Bill, my two breakfast buddies, at Mary Belle's. We always sit at "our" table, though, interestingly enough, that spot differs depending who I'm with! Bill and I always sit in the bay window at a round table, while Sandra and I always choose the square table by the back wall.

     What was that line in the old TV series "Cheers"? ... a place "where everyone knows your name"... I'm not sure the waitresses at Mary Belle's know my name... but they know my face... exactly what I'm going to order... and where I'm going to sit!

     Take my word for it, and stop by the next time you're in town; the restaurant is located at 1590 Lincoln Way in Old Town Auburn. Or don't take my word alone; check out photos and reviews on Yelp.

Auld Lang Syne...

 Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

   

Chorus:     For auld lang syne, my dear,
   For auld lang syne.
   We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,

   For auld lang syne.

     Auld Lang Syne means "times gone by" or "the good old days," so when we sing Robbie Burns' famous 18th Century lyrics we are singing, "We'll take a cup of kindness yet for the good old days," and we are waxing nostalgic about old friends and old times that we carry in our hearts.
     This week marks the birth of Scotsman Robert Burns, a rebel with a cause, and a hero of all rebels-at-heart, who was a working man's anti-establishment, singer-songwriter, the Woody Guthrie or Bob Dylan of his day. This week also marks the birth of my "old acquaintance," Vickie, with whom I was fortunate enough to break bread and celebrate the occasion on a recent evening (Robbie, naturally, could not join us).

     Vickie and I have known one another since the second grade, not our second grade, mind you, but our sons' second grade. The boys are now 25, going on 26, fine professional young men both, so second grade was quite a few years ago. They certainly have grown and aged significantly from those primary grade years, but we haven't. We ladies have hardly aged at all, in fact, still young-at-heart and youthful in body, mind, and attitude. Our kids grow in dog-years, aging seven years to our one.
     I remember the summer our families first met, sitting on the grass in the rooting section at our sons' T-ball games. Neither of our little blond boys was particularly interested in the game itself, not in swinging at the T-mounted ball, nor in retrieving a flyball that came in their direction. They spent most of game time digging holes in the outfield grass, finding bugs, and making other interesting discoveries.
     Vickie and I share a multitude of lovely times-gone-by memories that revolve around our kids: school events, Boy Scout activities, hiking, camping, skiing, BBQing, and Big Games. And we continue to make new memories both with and without our adult children as co-participants. Vickie is a friend who makes me laugh and will cry with me when that's what is called for.

     Back to Vickie's birthday. We drank a cup of kindness to our shared good old days and to current and future good days, as well, at a restaurant I had not been to before, the Club Car in Auburn. The menu had several enticing choices, and we deliberated long before ordering delicious salmon steaks cooked with fresh ginger. We finished the meal by sharing a light and airy whipped cheesecake. Musicians played old rock-n-roll in an alcove at the back, white cloths adorned the tabletops, and the long bar was beautiful dark wood paneling that looked vintage. Vickie and I talked well into the night and, in doing so, created another fine memory to wax nostalgic about as time goes by.

     Happy Birthday, Robbie!