We had an excellent lunch in the deli. My roast beef sandwich with jumping jack cheese was excellent. It was served on sourdough bread that was baked right there in the deli. The baking bread gives the place a nice aroma, and the Smoky Mountain hymns playing in the background give the store a very peaceful ambience.
Lea got some Lebanon bologna to go, and I got some sharp cheddar cheese. It had a good flavor, but the texture was more of a processed cheese, so I don't really know how to describe it.
There were some shelves with bagged grain, flour, and noodle products of quite a wide array. There was a good selection of Jake and Amos canned goods. The spices were at a great price, but I was put off by no expiration date or location of origin, so I skipped the spices. The store had quite a few unique products, but I guess I expected more local stuff. The guy at the check-out had a good cheerful attitude, and I appreciated that.
In the corner of the café, there was a rack of pen and ink prints by local artist Russell C. Watlington. They were realistic depictions of farms, horses, tobacco barns. I really enjoyed looking at them.
All in all, we had a nice visit.
On our way home, we stopped by a field to pick some cornflowers (or bachelor's buttons). They make such a nice bouquet.
I guess there's something romantic about a field of wildflowers. We got whistled at. We laughed about it. I wondered later that I didn't feel offended or objectified, but it really seemed more like an acknowledgement of the romance of posing in a field with a handful of flowers, and we were too far away for it to seem personal. Anyway, I joked that between having the voice on the phone GPS tell us, "You have arrived," a guy whistling at me, and missing the crossfire of the shooting that happened about the same time I rode by the junction of Hwy 96 and I-85, I was doing pretty well.
Having a laugh and picking flowers seems to do me good.
This does kick out a lot of memories just looking at the pictures. My mama used the singer pedal machine until I was about 8. She could amaze this kid, and I also got my fingers mashed a few times playing under her feet.
ReplyDeleteI haven't found a real country market in the last few years, that must be a breath of fresh air.
I had an acquaintance who ran one, and he bragged at how ignorant his customers were. His theory was 'entitle all veggies ORGANIC and these people will clear the shelves.', He bought everything in his 'home grown in NC-section' at a farmer's market in SC.
Anyway I love the pictures, the place has a lot more 'class' than my friend 'Stackgas' had.
If something has the "USDA Organic" seal, I think that's a pretty good assurance that it is organic. But some smaller operators want to use organic principles, but can't afford the expensive certification it takes to get the seal. In their cases, they try to establish a relationship of trust with their customers. I really like the Farmers Markets where you can get to know the growers.
DeleteAbout the machine. My great aunt had one. Whenever we went to see her, we knew we weren't supposed to go in there and play with the treadle, but it was all we could do not to push it as least a couple of times to feel how it worked.