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Rated: E · Short Story · Food/Cooking · #2142481
Short market experience, somewhere in Italy.
The market was packed full of people as far as the eye could see, even though it was early. It barely past eight o'clock, but Marie could already tell by her sweat that it would be another sunny and classic Mediterranean day. She had great plans for the day, but wanted to pay a quick visit to this place, as she heard good things about their cuisine. She was, indeed told right as people from all over the county came to visit. After she parked her car, she tried to vaguely memorize where she left it. Marie entered the farmer’s market with light heart and she was looking forward to roam the bazaar.

The rows of vendors, with a maze like structure instantly grabbed her imagination and elevated her to an almost dream like state. She was blown away be the sounds of the mass, the authentic live music, the many smells of fresh clothes and leather, the burning fumes of incense and the welcoming odors of roasted meat. There was not a single second to waste, as wherever she looked, she found an interesting thing to look at, touch or even try on. The market drawn her in and gobbled her time up. It was well past ten, when she realized she gone through most of the morning, without eating. Her stomach growled with a distinctive sound. “I should get something to eat!” she told herself, as she tried on a pair of jeans. She did not want to buy them, but somehow they ended up in her bag.

Just as she left the vendor, she began to follow her nose. “Now where would I hide, if I where the butcher?” she asked herself, as she looked around. As Marie did not find anything remotely resembling a food vendor, she chose to go deeper into the maze. She hoped she would eventually end up where she wanted.

Luck was on her side, as she reached a larger opening at the backside of the market. Seasoned people were already waiting in line for their food. She walked closer to a long truck and gave it a peak, before she stood in line. It was a small, family owned business that had quite the reputation. They won several prestigious competitions over the years, and their roasted pork burgers were legendary.
Marie grasped her bag full of bits and bobs, while she tried to swallow her seemingly endless saliva. “That smells so good!” she anxiously spoke as she slowly inched forward in the line. Before she knew it, Marie was at the counter.

“Buongiorno, what can I do for you Ma’am?” asked the large bellied man behind the counter, while he gave her the warmest of smiles.

“Um, hi there! I’d like to have from one of those pork burgers, with extra stuffing.” she ordered, when the man suddenly grasped his apron.

“Oh my Ma’am, you do know what's the best!” he replied with a wink and turned away to quickly assemble her burger. Marie carefully looked how he gently roasted the homemade bread. The cook put some olive oil on them and turned them upside down, and gently roasted them. Meanwhile, he sliced off several pieces from the ongoing roast. As the buns were ready, he put some fresh mozzarella, some leafy greens and a couple of thin slices of tomato on the bread. The chef was about to finish making the burger, when he turned towards Maria. “For you Ma’am, I’ll get the very best of the skin. It will be nice and crispy!” he told and then handed over her the masterpiece, in a wrapped up package.

“Thank you and have a nice day, arrivederci!” spoke the man as he accepted the cash, with his endless smile, underneath his thick mustache. Marie felt like a little kid. “Thank you!” she happily replied as she stepped away from the truck. Moments later, she looked for a small place to sit down, and began to eat the burger. She instantly fell in love with the smell and how tasty it was. The spices, the softness, the texture and the flavors all melted in her mouth and created a special kind of heaven. Every bite, every second was better than the previous one. She felt that this was the thing she wanted to eat for the rest of her life.
© Copyright 2017 Marcel Aaron Forrester (thearonstory at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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