After The Boy’s 19th birthday bash on Friday with thirteen hungry teenagers fed, I woke yesterday morning to devastation in the family room. Only a small fragment of his cake remained and I was told it was going to be for his breakfast, so this was what was left.
My dilemma was to tidy up or head straight to the Farmers’ Market. No contest really, so off we trundled. I was going to show Edinburgh’s latest talented chef, Mark Greenaway, my favourite suppliers, but alas due to a full restaurant, prep had to take priority, so me and BOGG (Big Old Grumpy Git – the OH) headed off into what turned out to be a rather beautiful spring morning.
The usual suspect from Creelers, Tim, wasn’t at his stall, but we stopped for a bleather anyway. I love the fact that Tim knows where all his fish comes from because he knows the fisherman personally. Always a good sign in my opinion.
Plenty of fresh veggies from Phantassie and plenty lip from Fin, (who isn’t in the picture) and is producer Patricia’s teenage son. He always wears shorts, even when it’s freezing cold, well sometimes anyway. He gets away with blue murder with his impish charm. Must drive his mother to distraction!
Adriana looking very smiley with her fabby mozzarella, ricotta and Provolone – all made in Edinburgh! The ricotta, in my opinion, is the best outside Italy!
We missed out on the last of the season’s Balmoral pheasant from Fletchers of Auchtermuchty. BOGG thought the lady in front heard us talking about it and nabbed the remaining beast! But we settled for some lovely venison instead. We did ask John why he was wearing an orange sou’wester. The answer was something about jackets, deer and Spain.
One of my lovely ladies. I love Dawn’s eggs. I try to make sure I buy enough as she’s only at the market every other week. The blue Brewsters aren’t laying yet, but soon the mottled bluey/greeny coloured shells will be much sort after. Can’t wait for the geese to start laying for huge eggs to make giant Scotch eggs.
Saw these cracking legs and just had to take a picture.
I didn’t have a slice, I was trying to be good in the hopes that when I got home there would be a smidgen of my cake left. And you know what? There was!