I love to cook and bake. Along with that, it turns out that grocery shopping is the only kind of shopping I like. (Buying yarn is not “shopping”, it’s “investing in my happiness”.)
I don’t often purchase baked goods at market — I’d rather bake my own cakes and breads and cookies and muffins* — but I have one exception. If I’m out for a Saturday morning shop, lugging spices and teas and pet supplies and groceries around Morningside Heights before breakfast, I’ll purchase an apple bundle to savor on a bench in the park between the Farmer’s Market and home, counting on the ice cream not to melt while I watch a few lazy leaves fall.
* I leave the pies to the rest of the ladies in the family, though. My pie crust is terrible.