On warm evenings we lash old fruit boxes to our bike racks and ride out. The city is ripe with summer. Tangled along alleys and trails, crawling over vacant lots, the Himalayan blackberries swell glossy black, their sweet, familiar scent rising up with the pavement’s sunheat, as nostalgic as the smells of lake algae and sunscreen. We wade into the thorns, cautious but unafraid.
The green gage plums and the early apples are brightening yellow and beginning to drop. At first we catch the fruits by ones and threes with the wire fruit picker, but soon enough we’re shaking the branches and gathering up handfuls, only a little bruised, from the grass.
Beside parking lots and back gardens we scramble up fig trees, clinging to the smooth branches with feet and crooked knees as we reach for the swollen syconia, breaking them off gently and passing them down hand to hand. By the time we drop down ourselves the tender skin of our necks and knees is burned red from the tree’s sap. Dusk has fallen. We load up and ride for home, skin itching, socks pricked through with thorns, mouths stained sweet purple, and our boxes piled high with the summer harvest.
Owner | Baker
TODAY AT MARKET
Red & White
Herb & Olive Oil
Malted Chocolate Chip Cookie
Bittersweet Chocolate Cookie
Oat Scone with Blackberries & Plums
Gleaner Slab Pie with Blackberries, Rhubarb, & Plums
Savory Tomato Tart
Wednesday bread this week:
Red & White, Mountain Rye, Baker's Choice: FARMER RYE with my own version of Brotgewürz with caraway, coriander, anise, fennel, and blue fenugreek.
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