I was nervous to pick them up. They looked so thin and delicate, and were covered in random dark brown speckles on their cream base.
Mostly, I was just fascinated. The grass-fed quail eggs I was eyeing looked exactly how I’d always imagined moon craters would look like.
By no means would I identify as an adventurous eater, but I’m not a picky one, either. So, I wasn’t really sure why I came to a complete stop when I first saw Ryan Dekker’s stall at the Lansdowne Farmers’ Market .
Dekker and his family were selling the delicacy, along with regular eggs and pet treats. I was impressed to learn that the quails were raised at their Osgoode farm where they run their Sun Dynasty Farm.
Though the eggs were roughly one-third (or maybe even a quarter) the size of a standard chicken egg, they were tough little fellas. So much so that I’d need to get the special scissors to crack them open without completely crushing their inner membrane.
The quail eggs shattered a false assumption I had made. They may have a thin outer shell, but their inner lining is actually tough and tricky to peel. (Hence the funny-looking scissors.)
In many ways, the Lansdowne Farmers’ Market shares a similar characteristic. Like quail eggs, the market is rich and beautifully unique. Like the eggs, the market also shattered assumptions I had made about it.
Despite living 500 metres away from it for three years, I’d always assumed that the market was all about paying for overpriced organic eggs that taste the same as the regular ones you can get for half the price, on the principle of healthy eating.
But going on a spontaneous Sunday trip to the market showed me that there was more to it than concerningly giant tomatoes.
I’ll admit that I initially immediately regretted the decision five minutes into browsing the market . The experience was nothing like the air-conditioned interior of my behemoth of a grocery store.
It was hot, it was sticky, and droplets of sweat were forming on my upper lip, which I hated.
However, as the discomfort settled, I began to explore the market more and noticed a soup station.
“Really?” I thought. “Who buys soup when it’s this hot out?” So, naturally, I approached the stall to speak with chef Andy Tout. I was curious to know whether people actually bought soup when it was this hot out. (Spoiler: they did!)
Tout and I ended up having a 20-minute conversation about anything and everything. Something that never happens at my regular grocery store, which shall remain unnamed.
Tout runs a local business selling low-sodium, all-natural vegetarian and vegan soups.
“If you’re looking for watery soup, I’m not your guy,” he said with a laugh. I believed him. He sold this amazing variety of fancy soups that I’d frankly never heard of, like chai butternut squash and Mumbai mango soup.
He sold them frozen. And because they don’t have any meat, you could carry them for hours in the market and they wouldn’t go bad.
As our conversation neared the end, I spotted a honey stall right next to the soup location, and naturally (or maybe this is my ADHD) I got sidetracked and made my way over.
One item I purchased, but didn’t expect I’d love, was a Beeswax Skin Cream. When the lovely woman selling them asked if I wanted to try a sample, I was nervous I’d attract a swarm of bees. Talk about drama!
But as soon as I rubbed the cream in, all that anxiety dissipated. Bees or not, I was getting that hand creme. (Disclaimer: Beeswax Skin Cream does not attract bees — or so I’m told).
From there, I bounced from one stall to another for about an hour. I made the rounds two times. I paused, I talked, I laughed. I circled back to the wax candle stalls, and picked up the potted plants.
I lingered longer when I saw sunflowers, simply because they are my favourite. The sunflower theory had always been fascinating to me. The idea that sunflowers turn to face each other on cloudy days to be each other’s sunshine is simply a beautiful concept.
My sunflower theory came true when I sat down to write this story. Two lovely women, Synthia and June, approached me to ask about my 18 tiny blotched quail eggs.
“Have you ever had them?” I ask Synthia. “No — never,” she said.
“Do you want to?” I asked, part of me hoping she’d take them all.
“No,” she barked almost immediately.
“How refreshingly honest,” I thought. I hadn’t laughed like that with a stranger in a very long time. We talked for another half an hour, and we exchanged numbers and decided to meet for coffee another day.
In reality, sunflowers don’t actually look towards each other for comfort during cloudy days. It’s a myth. But what a beautiful one to ponder on.
The sunflower theory embodies our human need to lean on each other, whether through our closest relationships or the briefest of interactions with strangers at a farmers’ market.
Lansdowne Farmers’ Market, thank you for keeping our hearts open — and for all those unique wares you won’t find at the grocery store.
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