color wheel vegetable shopping

Lush colors, shapes that would make Miro happy, arrangements to irritate Cezanne, I adore vegetable stands.

I am seduced by them, each vegetable tempts me to buy and plan what to do to it. Him or her? If vegetables had gender, would they want one? Beyone the obvious, (ie; banana, male), what would they be? How to tell? Or personalilty, do they have one? Kohlrabi: irritable with all the points. Asparagus: placid with thoughts all in their head. Figs, tidy outside, a sensual delight inside. If they were women, they would wear suits, and wear bustiers underneath. Or, what about tomatoes? The schitzo of the group, one day a fruit, one day a vegetable...separated from its fruity cousins by unappreciative stockboys. I really am talking about fruits too, sorry veggies.
I enjoy vegetables, and shopping for vegetables in other countries are some of my best memories. In Izmir, I went with a dear friend for artichokes. Buckets of the ivory yellow hearts, were sold already prepared, cleaned and ready for cooking. The seller was up to his ankles in artichoke leaves, almost as if a huge artichoke tree overhead had suddenly dropped its leaves. I was amazed at the work. And, I mourned in a tiny way not seeing this majestic vegetable piled up in all its thorny sweet sculpture.

I didn't have a kitchen in Istanbul when I lived there alone in the Sulthanamet area for a week. It was torture to pass the stands and not buy vegetables. I bought a few tomatoes, and eight gorgeous Izmir figs, mottled brown and purple from the vendor. I placed them on my windowsill to keep warm and continue to ripen, they were my snacks at night. But I couldn't buy as much as I wanted, only look, smile, and move through the market.

In New Delhi I was amazed at the impossibly high pyramids created by arrangements of deep red carrots, okra, and peppers. How did they sell them? Were they re-arranged after every purchase, making pyramids anew? I never found out.

In summers in Eugene we have a farmer's market stand somewhere in town every day of the week. I literally have to stay away from them, because I cannot resist the colors, textures, and choices. The quantity of carrots I can cook never matches what I buy. I end up becoming short term best friends with my food, watch it age, and unfortunately have to throw it out.

I think it is the sculptural quality that seduces me first. Nicely round, ovoid, clustered, cylindrical, I play geometry with them. And then color coordination. If I were stocking these veggies, I would be tempted to group them by colors, not fruits and vegetables. Hmmm, should I pair all the reds together? Red peppers, tomatoes, strawberries,, then in a rainbow of chakra colors, move to the purples: eggplant, grapes, turnip tops facing out, on to the oranges: butternut, tangelos, chanterrelles...It would be beautiful. It is easy to imagine the array of produce fanned across like a spectrum. I organize my closet by color so this would be easy to me, just go to the color of the produce. Sometmes I can survey for several minutes until I find the food I want in large grocers. This way, it would be easy!

Or, what about complimentary pairing? Eggplant by bananas and lemons. Jonathan apples by green peppers. Blueberries by Navel oranges and apricots. What fun. And for special occasions when I would really like to confound the shoppers, group by shape. Play Seseme Street and think "one of these things is not like the other...." and resort all the sticks together: daikon, asparagus, burdock, the rounds: tomato, grapefruit, melons, and so forth.

Its and old joke to meet people in the frozen food section. But I think it is much more interesting to be in the produce. Its tactile, I can smell things, and watch others make their selection. Carefully, one bean at a time? Or with a devil may care attitude toss six pounds without looking into the plastic bag? My produce man is a friend, and the first part of the store I walk into . I ask what is good, he often brings me something from in back that is not set yet.

In my new home I have no room for a garden. But I do have a small balcony and plan to grow some cherry tomatoes this summer. And a basil bush. And bring Mona, my Italian bay laurel over from her old home. Adam and Eve, the fig trees can't move ( I named all my produce) but surely some more herbs can join Mona so she isn't lonely. I imagine myself this summer, sitting at a bistro table I will find somewhere, by my veggie friends and sharing a glass of sauterne with a new dear friend. Life goes on. Produce always is happy to see you. Like a good bookstore, the produce stand always is personal, fits, and is not judgemental.

I can hardly wait for the farmer's markets to open.