A week or two ago I went to the Hollywood Farmers’ Market for the first time. I can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner!
I positively swooned: I’m a raging foodie, and the cavalcade of honey-wine fruit aromas, the metallic, green tang of cut vegetables, the colors in all their nuanced variety–I’m stunned anew at the lovely abundance of nature, the colors I could never explain in words, the stained-glass texture of a glossy Rainer cherry under my fingers, like a marble lit from within with crimson and gold, a single cherry-tree leaf still clinging to its stem, a perfect still-life unto itself, a signifier for “the force that drives the green fuse”–it left me giddy. The intoxicating smell of ripe honeydew melon, detectable five feet away from the fruits themselves; sweeping spreads of summer fruits, white and yellow necatarines, white and yellow peaches, plums of all sorts glowing with their translucent skins like rubies, pluots and apricots–their season so short, their tangy flavors so irreproduceable–with velvety flesh, sending big slurpy drips of sweet-tart juice down my chin when I tried a sample; bristling heaps of herbs, just harvested, sticky with their own spicy scents; carrots, chard, beets and potatoes all colors, from candy-striped to waxen-white to violet; and people everywhere, most with a bemused smile, as if appreciating, for the first time since they were children, the smell of summertime.
A super-cool pumpkin-vine structure, with holders for the pumpkins affixed to the sides, making what’s normally a space-gobbling sprawling vine into a vertical growth, created by Taospaces and artist-engineer Ray Cirino.
The composed fruit salad I made from that morning’s booty.