Have you ever tasted a real carrot? Not a straight and super clean behemoth from the supermarket but a fresh one, directly from the ground?
I have, unfortunately.
Unfortunately, because the carrots where I live now don’t taste the same.
You see, I was lucky enough to be born in the early eighties in Poland, where supermarkets were as rare as hens’ teeth, and where you would get all your food from the local farmers.
My granny had a farm too. I would spend long days playing in the fields, running about and eating straight from the ground and trees. I remember me and my brother pulling young carrots and eating them, only after wiping them on the back of our trousers, still dirty and covered in soil.
The good old days.
I live in a big city now. Up until recently I would get all my food from the local supermarket: clean, convenient, cheap.
But now I’ve discovered a local farmers’ market and I’ve tasted the real carrots again.
There is no going back.
