I have my short sleeves on to come outside this morning.  There are daffodils running havock through the grass, and sky everywhere.  I am about to make breakfast, and then I’ll go right into lunch, and from there to dinner.  There are about fifteen cows standing outside the barn where I am cooking. I see horses in the fields below, and I have been told that a goat or a goat and his family is nearby.  On the menu tonight is homemade pasta with sauce, but a city girl who has spent too much time in Italy forgot that not everyone has a pasta machine.  And I don’t think there is a pasta machine store anywhere too close.  I’ll make bringoli.  We’ll roll each strand out by hand like they do at the fest of Lisciano Niccone.  Just pile up some flour in a bowl, add water until you have a dough and then knead for about five minutes.  Let it rest, then pull off tiny bits and roll them into skinny snakes.  When your sugo is ready, throw the bringoli into boiling water for about two minutes, and then sauce it up.

I have never seen such a market as I saw yesterday in Dekalb.  They had everything from fresh bread, to every green known to mankind, wild and otherwise, and fresh turmeric and a whole section of goat.  The place is as big as a few football fields, and I think should be on everyone’s list of what to see when they are shouting distance from Atlanta.