ciao samin

yesterday i was cursing martin the crazy farmer (he was in eat at bill's, if you've seen it) for not having called. we have a strange relationship--most of the time i want to kill him for being such a flake, but then he delivers our order (or someone else's from some other poor restaurant), and it consists of the most beautiful wild arugula/romano beans/coco biancos/piccolo fino/insert specialty produce here we've ever seen, and suddenly, all is forgiven. i think he can do no wrong, until the next week, that is.

anyway, i was cursing him because he hadn't called yet (he usually calls on wednesday, or early on thursday), and i figured i'd have to get the usual stuff i get from him from greenleaf (the big distributor we buy things like russet potatoes from). i try to buy as little from greenleaf as possible, and as much from the little guys as i can. it's taken me a very long time to get the balance right, and all it takes is some funny weather, or a broken fax machine, or martin not calling, to screw everything up again. i kept thinking i'd just go call him, but then a million other things distracted me (like every day) and i forgot about it.

he called this morning, and told me to guess where he was calling from. i said, puerto rico. i was way off. he's in nice. talk about telecommuting--imagine trying to run a farming business in salinas from the south of france. well, at least one of us gets a mediterranean vacation, right? i told him i had the best panino of my life on the street in nice (remember, phil?).

well, it might not be a late summer trip to the south of france, but provence day is tomorrow. it's supposed to be sunny, and we're having pan bagnat, so you should come see us if you're around. i'll be the one with tuna oil all over my everything.