



every tuesday, exactly at noon, we're standing in line at the tamale tent for some of the yummiest mexican food our mouths have ever savored. tuesdays have become "tamale tuesdays" at our house. after we carefully consume our pepper-spicy tamales we refresh our steaming mouths with horchata that puts up a good fight against the hundred-degree weather that is common in these parts. once our bellies are full we make our rounds to our usual farmer booths, filling our bags beyond their limits—literally bursting at the seams.
tamale tuesdays, however, are not year-round. this market only lasts from april through september. yesterday was our last tamale tuesday—ever. though we are excited for our move to utah in december, we realized we’ll be sad to miss our summer tuesday ritual at the market.
living in a place for the past two and a half years that has only two seasons has made us “seasonally claustrophobic,” as cj puts it. there isn’t much of fall, and winter is nowhere to be found. we are 4-season people, and we’ve missed our falling leaves and quiet snow storms.
the farmers’ market filled this empty place in our lives just a bit. i could tell what season it was by what the farmers had on their tables: asparagus, cherries, spinach, strawberries, melons, peaches, apples, pears, heirloom tomatoes, and on and on. we looked forward to each food season, and tried to preserve bits of each season in our freezer for special treats when those fruits and vegetables were rare.
now that the tuesday market has come to an end i will start my saturday morning trips to a year-round market, which I am absolutely giddy about. because this market is different. yes, they have all the staples that the other market offers, but instead of tamales we fill our bellies with bolani and cream cheese danishes—this is how I know its fall, despite the intolerable 99 degrees we’ll be hitting today.