So I got up real early last Saturday because I heard this farmers market at Sanibel is crazy popular. Threw on my floppy hat and sunglasses, chugged some cold brew, and drove over the causeway before sunrise. Parking lot was already packed with trucks when I rolled in at 7:15 sharp. Could smell grilled shrimp in the air before I even stepped out of my car.
The Honey Trap
First booth that caught my eye was this buzzing setup with actual beehives on display. Beekeeper Dave showed me frames dripping with wildflower honey straight from the comb. Got to taste three varieties right off wooden sticks:
- Saw Palmetto: Dark like molasses with earthy kick
- Mangrove Blossom: Light amber with salty aftertaste
- Fireweed: Crazy floral notes almost like perfume
Bought two jars thinking they’d make killer glaze for grilled grouper later. Dave tossed in free honey straws “for emergency sugar cravings” – love that guy.
Strange Fruits & Spicy Roots
Next stall had stuff I’d never seen growing up in Michigan. Old Hispanic lady named Rosa kept handing me slices with calloused hands:
- Mamey Sapote: Like sweet potato crossed with pumpkin pie
- Soursop: Looked scary but tasted like bubblegum
- Yucca Root: Crunchy white sticks soaking in garlic brine
Almost spat out the habanero pickles she sneak-fed me. Tears streaming but bought two jars anyway – perfect for bloody marys.
The Bread Lady’s Secret
Followed my nose to this tiny tent with line wrapping around. Baker Sarah was pulling loaves out of portable brick oven. Got the last sourdough rye crusted in sea salt and sesame. Hot damn that crunch! She whispered her trick: adds Sanibel rainwater to the starter. Who knew?
Epic Cheese Standoff
Heard loud arguing by the dairy tent. Farmer Joe and Big Tom were having taste-test battle:
Joe’s goat gouda vs Tom’s smoked mozzarella
Tried both on rosemary crackers. Goat cheese won for creaminess but Tom’s smoky strings melted like heaven. Bought wedges of both like indecisive tourist. Saw them arm-wrestling as I left – community spirit at its best.
The Final Haul
By 9am my tote bag weighed forty pounds. Made last-minute dash for these weird purple sweet potatoes called boniato. Grower winked saying “boil ’em with coconut milk – thank me later.” Sweat pouring down my back but felt like Christmas morning.
Drove home with windows down, sticky honey jars clinking in passenger seat. Just fried up that mamey sapote with cinnamon – tastes like Florida sunshine in a pan. Might drive back next weekend if I run out of pickles!
