Overheard today at the winter farmer's market (the last of the year):
Man to bread vendor: Do you have any normal bread?
Vendor: What do you mean by normal bread? Do you mean white bread?
Man: You know. Something to make a sandwich with. White . . . rye.
Vendor: I have walnut, or whole wheat.
Man: No, no, no. None of that tricky stuff.
Of all the tiny telenovellas that have played themselves out at the market -- the sad-eyed alfajores baker aching to make a sale (delicious, but $4 apiece); the alfalfa sprout vendor from downstate, resiliently appearing after being implicated in the Jimmy John's salmonella scare; flirations between vendors and patrons; visitors who graze on free samples and never buy a thing -- this is undoubtedly my favorite.
Happy trails, winter market. You've served my pantry and my eavesdropping well.