Ken yawned as he paced back and forth in front of his apartment building. He had protested that 7:00 a.m. was way too early to even contemplate getting out of bed on a Saturday, but Shiitake had insisted so they’d be in time for all the best fresh-produce bargains.
Shortly, a small electric hybrid car, in what could only be described as spleen tonifying yellow, roared around the corner and came to a halt just inches from Ken’s feet.
Was that a pair of overalls Shiitake was wearing? He thought they were going to buy the vegetables, not pick them. And why did she have her hair in those plaits?
Shiitake leaned over and threw the passenger door open. "Jump in!" she said. "We’ve got to get a move on before all the freshest vegetables are sold."
Ken had barely folded himself into the cramped passenger seat and pulled his door closed before she pressed the accelerator to the floor. He had of course seen her car before but never tried to squeeze into it.
"What do you think of my Honda Insight Gas/Electric Hybrid car, babe?—it gets great gas mileage and is good for the environment too."
Ken grunted noncommittally, trying not to look too uncomfortable. "I just saw a film in which one of these was featured," he said quickly. "This model was portrayed as the Cadillac of Hybrid Electric Cars." He purposefully didn’t mention that the entire movie was a comedy based on its misadventures—best to break that to her gently some other time.
"Cool," said Shiitake, "I knew this kind of technology would be welcomed by the masses. It won’t be long before the water-technology cars hit the market."
"Aha," said Ken sounding less than convinced. He glanced at the back seat and noticed a pile of reusable shopping bags.
"It’s a plastic-bag-free zone, Ken," she explained handing him a map. "Here, you can navigate."
"You mean you don’t know where we are going?" Ken asked, successfully keeping any trepidation out of his voice, as Shiitake turned onto the freeway out of town.
"Not this one! Isn’t it exciting? I love discovering a new farmers’ market. This one is supposed to be the biggest one for miles around."
"Aha," said Ken again. "I am sure we are in for an exciting morning." It can’t be that rural, Ken thought with relief as Shiitake took the second exit off the freeway. Five minutes later though he became a little concerned. "Hey, haven’t we passed this street before, Shiitake?" he asked.
"All right! All right!" Shiitake admitted sounding a little flustered. "Yes, I thought it looked a little familiar." She pulled over and grabbed the map.
"Are we lost?" asked Ken
"We may have taken a wrong turn somewhere," Shiitake snapped and then blushed at her reaction. She pulled out the address she had scribbled on a post-it note. "I think we need to go back and turn left at one of those intersections. Hopefully there will be some signs to follow. But first I think I need a little sweet vegetable drink—I’m a little too yang from all this driving."
She pulled a stainless steel flask from her bag and took a swig. "Want some Ken? It’s very soothing and helps relax the middle organs of the body so your liver and pancreas don’t get too tight. And, I always keep it in a bottle that doesn’t leech estrogenic mimicking chemicals into the liquid so you are safe on that account."
"No thanks Shiitake," said Ken, "I am not too sure that is what my middle organs need right now…"
Shiitake quickly sprayed some Space Clearing Essence into the air and handed Ken a bottle of Rescue Remedy. "You’re right," she said. "I think you need some of this. Good thinking Ken."
He looked at her in puzzlement then glanced at the description on the bottle she had thrust at him. "Relieves the cause of nervous tension and reactions to stressful situation. Take 2 drops under the tongue." He let 4 drops hit his tongue and let out a deep sigh.
"Good. It’s working already." Shiitake sounded relieved. "Okay, let’s find this market before the stall holders throw away all the leafy greens from the turnips."
She turned the car around and took the next left. "There it is!" she exclaimed, spotting a hand-written sign on the roadside. "Valley Community Farmers Market – next right."
This was the first time Ken had ever been to a farmers’ market. There were stands of homegrown vegetables, freshly baked bread, chutneys, cheese, wines, and plants stretching into the distance. Ken could also see stalls selling hand-churned ice cream, preservative-free nougat, local honey, homemade lip balm, and hand-knitted teapot warmers. This is just what I need, Ken thought. He wished he had brought along his Pocket Guide to Eco-Living, which he had bought not long after meeting Shiitake, so he could identify the rest of the items offered for sale.
"Oooh, I hope we are not too late for those super-fresh turnips with their greens still attached," said Shiitake. "They are one of the richest sources of calcium and other minerals of any land vegetables, you know." She headed towards a stand whose banner advertised it as selling "Quality Organic Vegetables." As Ken caught up to her, he heard Shiitake say to the stallholder, "Your sign says your produce is organically grown, but are you ‘certified’ to be selling organic produce? Ken was sure he heard the farmer mutter something under his breath about who should be certified. Triumphantly the farmer waved the top-level organic and biodynamic certification papers under her nose. Unfazed, Shiitake nodded her approval and asked how much the string beans were. Ken wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or proud. He should have known that his girl would be that uncompromising in her ideals. She was a feisty one—his Shiitake. He smiled—he was getting to like the sound of that. Shiitake began to pick through each and every string bean to find the freshest ones until she had filled a paper bag with 2 pounds of them. It was not just Ken who was becoming impatient—the people waiting in line were too. With her supply of the best beans paid for and in her carry bag, Shiitake said, "Ken, I think I will just pick up some cabbages so I can make a big batch of sauerkraut. I won’t be long…" Ken pottered around and found himself at a stall selling homemade jams. He reached out to try a sample and felt a soft, well-manicured hand on top of his. "Ken, I never expected to see you here." Ken looked up as he recognized the stallholder’s sultry voice and the heady scent of department store perfume that was certainly not the lavender, ylang ylang, and patchouli blend he had become accustomed to in Shiitake’s presence. It was then that he felt Shiitake sidle up to him. He hastily pulled his hand away. "Shiitake!" he exclaimed and Shiitake could tell it was more than his interest in sugar-laden jam that he was attempting to conceal. "This is…" "Gloria!" Shiitake finished for him. "You two know each other?" Ken asked incredulously. "Gloria is one of my yoga students, Ken," Shiitake explained. "That’s right, Ken," Gloria said. "That’s why I couldn’t see you on Thursday nights, remember? I never miss a class of twists and inverted postures. That’s how I keep so supple, you know…" "Gloria is in accounts at the office," Ken explained to Shiitake, "and we were… ah… seeing each other for a while last summer." Shiitake glanced at her auto-kinetic, non-meridian disturbing watch. "Is it that time already?" she asked. "I really must get back and pickle these daikon…" "You don’t want to get in a pickle, Shiitake!" Gloria giggled and Shiitake tried not to fume. "I thought you were making sauerkraut, Shiitake," said Ken. "Whatever," said Shiitake, "C’mon Ken!" Does Ken’s encounter with his old flame make him realise that Shiitake’s unconventional ways are too much for him? Maybe someone like Gloria is more his type? Does Ken follow Shiitake, knowing an afternoon of sauerkraut making awaits him, or does he decide to stay and taste some more jam?
