My mind has been a total sieve today so it’s a miracle that I’ve actually remembered to write this.
Tomorrow I’m off to the local farmers’ market (my brain is so empty tonight that I’m still not sure where that apostrophe should be going, bleh!) along the seafront. It’s on every month and me and my Mum try to go often. Most of the time we don’t buy much but it’s nice to have a browse and, if the weather’s nice, go for a walk along the seafront.
Besides the delicious cakes on offer, there are always plenty of stalls offering pasties and fresh meat, as well as some more exotic offerings. The meat comes from various nearby farms. I’m not a big meat eater but it’s nice to know I can buy things that are so local, even if there is a premium attached to it. There’s always the option to buy a wild boar burger or a roast pork roll too.
There’s a great array of local cheeses and the goat’s cheese in particular rocks.
That’s not forgetting the stall of Indian produce which does various interesting offerings (which admittedly I rarely buy because I cook it myself) or the stall that sells loads of varieties of olives (which I hate) and different types of pesto (which taste delicious on top of chicken).
Oh and I always finish my trip with a freshly cooked nutella and marshmallow crepe. It’s impossible to eat without causing a huge mess but it’s worth it even if it does make the following seaside walk a little nerve wracking for fear that I have chocolate sauce on my face.
It’s probably the most middle class day of the month but I feel distinctly smug that I have such delicious produce available within 20 minutes of my home. Swansea gets a less than perfect stigma attached to it at times, but like everywhere (except maybe Luton), there’s some beautiful sights to be seen if you go looking for it.