That’s what I paid this morning, at the Farmer’s Market, for all of this:
Does that seem crazy, to anyone else but me? The apples are the only thing that weren’t either certified organic or pesticide-free (after much searching, I still haven’t found an apple farmer who doesn’t have to spray at least once). Is this all a hoax? I keep thinking I’m going to wake up one morning to headlines telling me of the Great Farce discovered at the Broad Ripple Farmer’s Market. How do they sell this stuff so cheap?
The priciest item was the half-peck of apples, straight from the orchard outside Indianapolis. Those totaled $7 (one bag is for eating — the Golden Delicious and Galas, and one is for applesauce — the Cortlands). The acorn squash was $1, purchased from the same farmer who sells me $1 yukon gold potatoes (I am feeling safer with each passing Saturday that the price remains the same — I even refrained from running away after my purchase this morning).
Seriously. Where am I?
And you must understand that I’m not complaining — I’m just nervous. Waiting for this mirage to disappear before my hungry yet unwaveringly frugal eyes.
Is this heaven? No, it’s Indiana.