Pike's Place - Seattle

You couldn’t find this kind of morning anywhere but here. I kept the sliding glass door cracked open so that the cold breeze would wrap itself around my toes and drag me out of bed. My instinct was to wrap myself deeper into my thick flannel blankets but I knew I had to get up if I didn’t want to be caught in the chaotic mid-morning rush at Pike’s Market. I was working in Seattle for a company that held jewelry auctions on the weekends. This meant my weekdays were my own and I could explore as much as I wanted to. While on the airplane on my way to Seattle, the in-flight magazine has a full feature article about Pike’s Place. Since I’m such an avid little chef, I knew I had to make my way down there and gather some treasures.

After about thirty minutes worth of stop and go traffic, I had finally arrived to Pike’s Place Market. I parked the oversized work van about a mile away and walked, well actually hiked, to my destination. I wore a thick black fleece and waterproof black boots my mom had gotten me because she heard it rained a lot in Seattle. I had a wad of cash in my pocket and I tucked several reusable grocery bags under my arm.  If I had known how much I was going to buy, I would have definitely opted for a closer parking spot. Instead, at the end of my trip, I ended up lugging about thirty pounds back to the van. At that point, I wasn’t even sure if I’d have the ability to mix or chop anything since my arms were so sore! With my bags in tow, I walked towards the big glowing sign that reader Public Market Center and immediately caught the smell of fresh fish and in the distance, dried sage.

Along the main arcade, smiley vendors made masterpieces out of their fresh fruits, vegetables, pastas and meats. Each stand looked like a creation, painted in every color imaginable. Ceramic containers held over a hundred different types of dried pasta. Some were infused with thyme while others with lavender. After trying over a dozen samples, I left with the lemon herb linguine. My next mission was to find some fresh butter and shrimp, so that I could make a meal out of the pasta. As I walked along the alley, I was drawn in by all of the fresh seafood. Surely this is where I would get my shrimp. From scallops to halibut cheeks, if you asked for it, someone would lead you to it. Not only was the service exceptional, they really knew how to reel you in (pun intended), one sample at a time. Smoked salmon chunks covered in peppercorn and sea salt lined the glass windows. Immediately my mouth started salivating, and like clockwork, I was offered a sample. I bought a pound, along with some oversized shrimp, to hold me over and before I go to the car, the package was empty.

I was lured into the fruit stand with samples of Braeburn apples. They even offered pressed juice, which were made while you waited in line. Of course, I decided I needed a gallon. I convinced myself that if I was going to eat all of this food, carrying all of these groceries was my workout before hand.  I threw an assortment of figs and apples into another one of my bags and exchanged in some polite conversation with the salt and peppered hair vendor, Dan. With no more than two dollars left, I decided it was time to get back home. I arranged my canvas bags over my shoulders and in my hands, zipped my fleece all the way up, and went on to conquer the uphill hike to the van.