When I imagine my coolest self, I see her browsing farmers’ markets and using her purchases to whip up delicious little meals. (Or maybe my imaginary boyfriend would whip up meals… if we’re going full fantasy here.) (But I would help with the shopping and the cooking… and the eating. Definitely the eating.) (Best imaginary girlfriend ever?)
Every Sunday when I exit the gym (I start my Sunday off with some weightlifting… fierce!), I see people going into the Hollywood Farmers’ Market across the street. But I never go in, because I don’t have any cash, or because I don’t want to go in alone, or I’m too sweaty, or blah blah excuses.
Until today. I stuck some cash in my gym bag, and post-workout I headed into the fray.
Loyal blog-readers (and people who actually know me) know that while I’m game to try all sorts of cakes and burgers, my REAL favorite foods are fruits and vegetables. Healthy things. (Shocking? You don’t know my life!)
I thought that the farmers’ market was only a block long. I didn’t expect to take pictures or blog it. But it turned out to be a sprawling affair, running down Ivar from Sunset to Hollywood. About halfway along Ivar the market broke off along Selma, running from Cahuenga to almost-Vine. (Trader Joe’s was a few hundred feet from the boundary. Ha.)
From above, the market would probably look like a lower-case “t.” Kinda.
I think I went into must-blog-this mode when I realized that there were FREE SAMPLES. Post-workout, what’s better than free fruit slices, of the organic farm variety? (I ate a fig! Like, a green one with red insides. Not in a Newton.)
The market had a very laid-back vibe. People of all ages, lots of hip young couples with babies. (As I walked to the market, I passed a cool dad strapping his son into a stroller. “You haven’t been in this bad boy for a while,” the dad said. “You must be pretty excited!” And it was funny, because I bet that dad used to be a badass.) (He still is, but dad-style.)
The Selma cross-street had breads and actual cooked food, like kabobs and ravioli (and the Border Grill truck). But I only took pictures on Ivar. (I WISH I’d taken a picture at the snail booth. They had a hand-made sign that said, “Good snails are back.”)
Look at these personal pan watermelons! They are called sugarbabies! They are actually personal pan size. (Sorry, Trader Joe’s.)
That imposing shadow is me, with my hair pulled back. The sun is RAGING today. So hot right now.
I was VERY tempted to purchase a honeyloupe. Who can keep honeydew and cantaloupe straight, anyway? I always say one when I mean the other.
Sadly, no free honeyloupe samples. But how could it not be delicious? (Then again– how do beautiful people have ugly kids?)
These eggplants were ELECTRIC purple. I don’t even think a photo can capture the eye-grabbing intensity. I spotted them from afar, which is very uncommon with my shitty eyes.
Let’s cleanse our palates with MORE SAMPLES.
There were also non-food amusements. Busking musicians. A man making balloon animals. And… you know, cute young guys playing in an Old World-style ensemble.
Not pictured: mushrooms, meats, seafood, flowers, pretzel bread etc etc. What can I say? I got fruit-happy. I’m such an Appleface. (Also I only took pictures of things if the vendors were busy/not looking.)
There was a disappointing lack of all things pumpkin, at least as far as I could see. I was READY to buy some pumpkin butter, or some spice cake. Sad face.
It was really nice to discover such a pleasant environment, right in the middle of Hollywood. I was reminded of childhood visits to the Orange County Swap Meet, and also of an outdoor market I adored in Southwark, London. (I just googled it, and I believe it’s the Borough Market.) It’s nice to know that I can have this without going home or abroad. Just part of my Los Angeles routine.
Gym, farmers’ market, laundry. How “Jersey Shore” of me. (I probably could say I did a full-on GTL, because I was really worried that I was getting a sunburn at the market. I probably got at least a few freckles.)
Now I just have to buy something/learn how to cook.
But hey– baby steps.