San Francisco is at its prime in the early fall, with clear blue skies and just a slight tinge of crisp fall air in the morning that gives way to blistering afternoon sun that eventually fades to a cool night that might actually warrant a light jacket for the first time in what feels like a really, really long time. And it's not just the weather. Tourists who are in the know stop in to SF in the fall rather than our foggy summer and their mood is infectious. Stand in the middle of a sidewalk in the middle of downtown simply to marvel at the way the light streaming through a palm tree hits a piece of shiny jewelry in a shop window? Sure, why not?
It was this type of mood that struck me this morning after a meeting downtown to amble through the Ferry Plaza's Thursday market, though my refrigerator and garden are both overflowing at the moment and have threatened to walk out on me if I even so much as look at another piece of produce. There was the typical fare for Northern California at this time of year--squash and tomatoes lined up next to early garlic and Red Russian kale and swiss chard. There were beautiful dahlias, their petals spread out like a peacock's feathers, brilliantly colored with colors that remind of summer and others that beckon fall. And then, out of nowhere, really, there was a basket of
paw paws. Reminscient of my favorite South American fruit, the chirimoya (mmmm, jugo de chirimoya), this fruit is actually native to North America and the only fruit in its family to grow outside of the tropics. The texture is soft and velvety, almost as though you're eating a really smooth custard. The flavor actually reminds me a bit of passion fruit, rich up front, with a tangy after taste. I bought two. I promise to eat one today, before my refrigerator gets wind of my purchase. The other I'm saving for a smoothie tomorrow morning. Or maybe a tropical rum drink tonight. It is pretty close to tropical in San Francisco right now.
It was this type of mood that struck me this morning after a meeting downtown to amble through the Ferry Plaza's Thursday market, though my refrigerator and garden are both overflowing at the moment and have threatened to walk out on me if I even so much as look at another piece of produce. There was the typical fare for Northern California at this time of year--squash and tomatoes lined up next to early garlic and Red Russian kale and swiss chard. There were beautiful dahlias, their petals spread out like a peacock's feathers, brilliantly colored with colors that remind of summer and others that beckon fall. And then, out of nowhere, really, there was a basket of paw paws. Reminscient of my favorite South American fruit, the chirimoya (mmmm, jugo de chirimoya), this fruit is actually native to North America and the only fruit in its family to grow outside of the tropics. The texture is soft and velvety, almost as though you're eating a really smooth custard. The flavor actually reminds me a bit of passion fruit, rich up front, with a tangy after taste. I bought two. I promise to eat one today, before my refrigerator gets wind of my purchase. The other I'm saving for a smoothie tomorrow morning. Or maybe a tropical rum drink tonight. It is pretty close to tropical in San Francisco right now.