The farmers’ market on the Embarcadero is around 40% responsible for my move to San Francisco. I do eat the samples as my brunch every Saturday. I tell you honestly only because I am so sure everyone else does there the same thing, and because I have no shame when it comes to food (this should be clear by now, no?).
Every fruit is a piece of juicy sweetness I never want to let go. There are six types of nectarines. I know this because I like all of them, and refuse to leave without eating all of them. The jams – what in the world do they put in the jams – are enough to make me melt.
They serve Korean tacos. Short ribs, gently marinated, with kimchi and a sauce made for the Gods, all carefully placed onto seaweed. I don’t know that I’ve had better food. What a statement, I know , but it’s true.
It’s a market that makes you feel cuddly. The people are too friendly and they just want to feed you (is there anything better?). When you move to a new city, and you go through the effort of making yourself vulnerable to so many people, it can feel dizzying. But if I ever feel rejected, I go to this market, and then I remember: wait, I am delightful. And then I have a Korean taco, because that is the ultimate form of love – and then I know it’s all going to be great.
wrapmeinbacon 
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