Somehow, most of the events in my life end up being about food. If I visit an old friend, I want to cook them dinner, or they want to take me to a restaurant. If I am invited to the ballet, I immediately wonder where to have diner beforehand. When I go on a trip I always consider taking provisions, and birthday parties and holidays of any kind are inevitably centered around noshing. There is one activity however that I have always figured would have absolutely nothing to do with food and that’s exercise.
Because it stands to reason that during exercise there is little chance of having a culinary encounter - an therefore no chance of coming across material for the blog - I did not think to bring my camera along for Margeaux and my exercise session in the park yesterday. I could not have been more off the mark; as it turns out, along with every other thing in my life, even exercise can be about food.
After a heavy session of step jogging, squats, kicks, and crunches Margeaux and I exited the park straight into the middle of the the Fort Greene Farmer's Market. Having no where else to be, we decided to browse a bit and what do you suppose we stumbled upon but some farm-fresh and glowingly pink rhubarb.
"Three dollars a pound," a handsome fella told us with a smile. Margeaux turned to me, "what does rhubarb taste like?" she asked as though I were the authority on all thing food. "I'm not sure," I told her "I have only ever had it in Pie with Strawberry." The dashing young farmer snapped off two pieces from a stalk and gave it to us to try, not without warning, "its very bitter." We both took a bite and chewed cautiously. It had the stringy consistency of celery, but the puckery flavor lemon. I don't know if it was rosy cheeks of that young farmer boy, or the zesty flavor of the rhubarb, but Margeaux ordered a pound (which is acctualy quit a lot) , what she was do with it, I had no idea.
With our sweaty t-shirts and a satchel of rhubarb we decided that coffee was the next step, but instead got side tracked by a wine tasting at Thirst Wine Merchants that showcased three distinct Rosés. Margeaux liked the Domaine de la Courtade L'Alycastre, a light peach flecked rosé made from the Grenache and Mourvèdre grapes. Personally I preferred The Domaine deFontsainte Corbieres, a rosé bursting with the scent of ripe strawberries delicately brushed with fresh mint and almond.
With a slight buzz, and loaded down with three bottles, we headed to Smooch on Carlton for a much needed coffee. While waiting for our cappuccinos the owner (don't remember his name) curiously checked out our wine and rhubarb stash. "Coffee, wine, rhubarb, What more does a woman need?" he said with a frisky grin. " Chocolate," I replied pointedly. He, with out a moments hesitation, as though he had been diligently anticipating my response, ran out the front door and reappeared within moments holding in his hand a bar of Lavender flavored Degoba Chocolate.
I have no idea where he got the chocolate bar, but I must say, it was the perfect way to end a Saturday day workout. Now I ask you, what more does a girl need?