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One of the reasons I love farmers’ markets in the Bay Area is that they remind me of the базары I knew and loved in Ukraine. These images remind me of those markets…and of the бабушки at the train stations selling cметана thicker than the richest crème fraîche I’ve ever had in the States. I remember too that some Ukrainians would sell gallon glass jars of grass-grazed milk so fresh, I could smell its creaminess just as I passed by on the way to market. The sellers would carefully lay out dishtowels on the hoods of their cars and set the jars atop them.









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