Lynn Wiese | blog

I was in Phoenix this week for two days and spent much time cruising a 10 mile stretch of Baseline Road between the golf course and hotel. (H was in tournament; I didn’t swing a club.) I kept passing this little wooden, homey building with a sign out front that said The Bread Basket. It advertised fresh baked bread, sandwiches and the listed the price per pound for tomatoes, apricots and melons. It wasn’t located in a strip mall or near a Starbucks or a gas station, all of which we passed more than once while heading in just one direction. This was a free-standing building and it finally drew me in.

I wish we had one of these permanent farmer markets close by, the kind that has colorful bins of fresh produce coming direct from the local growers. So far, I’ve tried the plums (to die for), the honeydew melon (oh to have nine lives), and the honey wheat bread (why can’t our local chain supermarket have anything so good?). The red, green and yellow peppers cost half as much as at the discount health food chain that offers a plethora of produce. Nothing, however, surpasses produce fresh from the farm  . . . heaven, I’m in heaven.

I’m hoping, hoping, hoping that the surrounding chains and strip malls don’t swallow up this tiny nugget of taste sensation. We need to keep these places alive, even if they look like the oddball store.

So stop the next time you see one. I guarantee you. There are treasures inside.