Allie was coming for lunch tomorrow. It was to check in on Derrick - she did that pretty often because of his troubles. But she was taking time out of her busy day at the hospital to come and see them on a weekend. It wasn't easy, and the least they could do was make sure that she had something to eat while she was there. Usually, Elonzo just worried about feeding himself and Derrick; sometimes, he'd bring home food from the restaurant. Sometimes, he'd make something versatile that'd keep in the refrigerator. But today, when he went to see what he had to work with, he found the fridge empty pretty much bare. When he'd asked about it, Derrick had responded that he'd eaten everything the day before. Elonzo shook his head thinking about this, a smile playing on his lips; eventually, his younger brother's metabolism would catch up with him and things like this wouldn't happen as much.
So he'd decided to try something different, looked up some Spanish recipes, and wrote up a quick shopping list. Albacore, onions, red bell pepper, avocados, peaches, mint, creame fraiche, a good brandy, and a nice, sweet red wine. Because all of these things required that he go to the farmer's market.
Elonzo loved the farmer's market - aisle after aisle of the freshest produce, none of which had been squeezed, poked, or prodded by less-than-gentle hands. It always smelled good and the selection of fresh herbs was incredibly generous. And the people there weren't people who were shopping for food - they were people who were shopping for flavors. It was a semantic difference. That fact didn't change that Elonzo's opinion on the shoppers - and the grocers. Knowledgeable people; he'd always had a place in his heart for knowledgeable people. And fine food.
So that was why Elonzo found himself that morning headed into the fine shopping establishment, an empty basket on his arm and a list in his pocket. He was in a good mood and was humming a jaunty tune under his breath as he strolled into the hustling bustle that defined a farmers' market, pausing at the doorway to look around appreciatively and gauge his shopping route.
