Then there were the trips to maternal grandmother's village. A small tiny village that wouldn't show up on any map, however much one zooms in. In contrast, I was the oldest grandchild to my maternal grandmother and enjoyed a special privilege (still do) in the family. There were no markets in the village, so the fruits and vegetables came from the fields, milk from the herd, the chicken from the pen and mutton only on very special occasions (like when the son-in-laws came for a visit). Back then there was a concept called santhai (sort of farmer's market), where one came to buy and sell their produce. It was generally held in the nearest town. The connection to the town was by a bus which made 3 trips daily. My granny took us to the town in the morning on the day of the santhai, the long narrow road winding its way through many more tiny villages. The bus was filled with people who somehow were related to one other and would in turn fill the bus with baskets and fellow passengers with happenings in their village.
The mornings were spent in the markets and my granny would treat us to lunch in one of the eateries and then there would be a movie in the afternoon. After which we went back home in the evening bus. What I loved about the trips were the santhai and seerani (a sweet that is very special to the town, I have never seen it anywhere else). The smell of the market and noise with all that battering was such a glorious experience. As a child I would stare wide eyed at the wares on display and enjoy the snacks that my granny brought me. She would meet a whole load of her relatives and friends (she was a teacher and it seemed to me that she knew everyone). One of those relative-meeting gave me a fascinating insight to my grandmother's life, the one I didn't know about. She is one of those million unsung feminist in the world, without whom the things we take for granted (like education for girls) wouldn't have happened. She was a truly remarkable person and I attribute my fiery feminism to her influence.
Last week my mother described about this new supermarket near our home in
Luckily there are 4 farmer's markets around the area I live. I cannot visit the
No more corn on cob for the kiddes, it is hot dogs now. But at least I know the sausages are devoid of the dreaded 'Es' and the bread is whole meal, organic. Another picture of Moseley Farmer's market where one can buy Ostrich burgers.
I somehow think shopping in the farmer's markets would cultivate a sense of respect for the food we eat in the children and hopefully they will follow the tradition as adults.
I had a write up of markets lying in the Draft for quite some time. When Gay of Scientist in the Kitchen announced the 'To market, to market' event, the post has been dusted and is now ready to enter the event. I am looking forward for the round up and reading about markets all around the world.