My usual approach to farmers market shopping is to do two laps. I walk through the market once to take it all in and see what looks good, and then I do a second round, this time to actually do the buying. The Vancouver market took three passes.
That’s because everything looked so good, I just couldn’t decide. The variety of ethnic snacks was unbelievable. There were Greek, Asian, and German food stands. The gumbo was tempting.
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My husband cast his vote for the tamale stand.
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The aroma of the paella almost lured me in.
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But I just had to go with the Uzbek food, since I happen to be from Uzbekistan.
It was the ambiguous sign that first aroused my curiosity.
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But I didn’t really count on anything interesting as I wandered toward it. I most certainly didn’t expect an authentic array of the foods that I had grown up eating. I just couldn’t believe my eyes! The Vancouver Farmers Market has a vendor (Pavel & Family, 360-253-6827) specializing in Uzbek food!
I’m not sure I can really convey in words how unusual this is. I was in complete disbelief, stunned, shocked, so surprised. It’s just that most people would be hard pressed to locate Uzbekistan on a world map, let alone spend some hard earned cash to try the food. I mean, when I tell people I was born is Uzbekistan, they just look at me quizzically. They almost always respond, “Pakistan?” I explain that Uzebkistan’s a country in Central Asia. So they try again, “Afghanistan?” Needless to say, the only place other than Uzbekistan I’ve ever seen Uzbek food is at home.
But I digress. The Uzbek food looked good. Shashlik, skewers of marinated beef and pork, were sizzling on a grill.
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I was told that the father of the family of cooks was a welder and made it himself. They had an enormous authentic kettle, called a katol, full of plov, a lamb and rice pilaf.
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They proudly explained that they had ordered the katol directly from Uzbekistan and that the shipping had cost $1,500 (ironically, the pot itself was only about $40). They even had an authentic babushka, lending credibility to the entire operation.
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I ordered the combination plate, with shashlik, plov, and salad.
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A tasty and satisfying lunch for about $7.
With a belly full of comfort food, I was finally ready to do my shopping. I bought some okra, tomatoes, and corn. Then the stone fruit caught my eye.
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I’ve had donut and Saturn peaches before but never flat nectarines.
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So I had to get some just for the novelty factor.
And then the huckleberries called to me.
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The friendly vendor had just picked the wild berries himself at Trout Lake on Mount Adams. They were rare perfection, with jewel-like shiny skin, an intoxicating fragrance, an even more intense flavor, and also a very steep price of $4.50. I bought just one half-pint. On the way home, I agonized over what to do with the huckleberries, would they be destined for fresh eating or a pastry transformation? Concluding that a special treasure deserves a special treatment, I tossed them with a single tablespoon of sugar, divided them between two ramekins, topped them with rolled-out scraps of Pâte Sucrée Tart Crust from the freezer, and baked them into cobblers as soon as I got home.
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A dollop of vanilla whipped cream, and my tongue was blissfully happy. What in the world was I thinking when I bought just one half-pint? Now I find myself in the preliminary stages of planning a huckleberry picking expedition. I think I have a new favorite berry, at least for the rest of huckleberry season.
And did I mention, I also have a new favorite farmers market?
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