The final food fix in this particular trilogy is the smallest and, in my own soppy judgment, the sweetest of the lot. A sprightly Frenchman selling fresh fruit and vegetables is a quintessential image of l'hexagon, to which I travelled just over a month ago, yet this particular vendor was not sandwiched between fresh bread and seafood stalls in a bustling city market. Rather, he was set up on his own in a small town car park; as vibrant in spirit as the colour of his carrots and tomatoes, despite his lack of company or the rain that fell from cloudy skies. It's a shame that, already rushing to catch a train to Paris, I could not stop and buy something from this admirable chap, but he was more than happy for me to take his picture (I couldn't think quickly enough to ask him if he would mind appearing on the internet!).
The produce did look delicous, though, and was worthy enough for Monsieur to sell unaccompanied in the best spot he could find, albeit with petrol fumes wafting past!
So, there we are, three places that differ in form but not in function, as each provides the customer with food that is tasty and rustic; grown and sold with pride to us who will cook and eat it with pleasure. I hope this has inspired you to look for the likes of it in your area.
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