On Saturday we visited SCA friends to hang out and work on historical projects. I finished a project, in fact, and I’m delighted with it. I want desperately to share it with you and gloat, but it’s a present, so I can’t post it yet. I’m going to have to wait a long time for satisfaction on this one, since Christmas is really not just around the corner (no matter where Santa may be).
Inspired by last Monday’s post, I decided to take advantage of the farmers market that comes to Kirkcaldy, where I was meeting my friends, every month or so. I’ve always like farmers markets. First for the carnival atmosphere, and later, when I had abandoned little debbies for homemade bread and brownies, when I realised that it’s a carnival of things that I actually like to look at and eat. Win. It’s like the Common Ground Fair, my very favoritest fair of the year, in miniature. It’s proof that outside my silly city residence, life in the country goes on as it always has, and will continue to do. The local farmers market shows a 100% drop in sheep dog trials compared to the fair, though; if someone could get on that, that would be great. (You don’t know what a good time is until you’ve watched a sheep dog herd runner ducks. Now that’s quality entertainment.)
On this occasion, seduced by a certain hot pepper jelly, we stocked up on jam, chutney and sauce. The whisky marmalade was a temptation, too, but as the primary reason I buy marmalade is to use in marmalade old fashioneds, it seemed redundant.
I saved the whisky for the cheese. Cheese produced on an island (Arran), filled with scotch from the same island. Being a locovore in Scotland would play hell with your fruit and vegetable consumption, but it would do wonderful, wonderful things to your cheeses.