February 2013, that is – already more than a year ago that I was meandering Périgueux’s sprawling markets in Place de la Clautre, as lively in rainy February as in sunny May. But where the months all differed was more easily seen in my panier – the agriculteurs of the Dordogne in February invited me to taste its tiny little mushrooms, crack into its protein-dense hazelnuts, and marvel at its rainbow-colored rutabagas (often referred to in French as a ‘turnip-cabbage’). Even on the gloomiest of Saturdays, a trip to the market with my market buddy in tow, was always a highlight of the weekend – weaving in and out of the aisles of market stalls, planning out a lunchtime feast.
I have missed market days in Périgueux. Luckily, our own neighborhood Farmers’ Market has whirred back to life in the past couple of weeks; like last summer, we have plans to pack a picnic, lounge around for a few hours, and leisurely hem and haw about the ripeness of stone fruit, before hopping on our bikes with, hopefully, a basket full of ingredients and some ideas about what to cook for dinner. Just like old times in the ‘gueux.