If you’d asked me 10 years ago where I’d be on Sept. 11, 2011, I doubt I would have answered, “Petting a baby goat while holding a bagful of fingerling potatoes and farmstead cheese.” But here we are.
Like so many other bloggers, I was going to write about Sept. 11. I was going to share “my story,” which consists of me waking up ludicrously late that day (even for a college student) and finding out about the terror attacks after the North and South Towers had already collapsed.
Certainly, there are images I’ll never forget, from that day and the weeks following.
My roommate calling her family and asking, “We’re going to war now, aren’t we, Mom?” Another roommate – an Indian-American woman – getting frantic calls from her parents, telling her to stay away from Boston in case someone misjudged her dark skin and tried to retaliate.
Driving home to my own parents’ house, seeing 10 cars parked outside a Worcester family’s home, and finding out later that the young mother was aboard Flight 11 out of Logan Airport. Riding in the car later that night with my father, and hearing the news on the radio that 7 World Trade Center had collapsed. Returning to campus to see a bevy of American flags, hanging from dorm windows and walls (which overzealous resident directors squawked about, considering them “tapestries” and therefore against the rules.)
Whether it’s maturity or the sentimentality that comes with changed life circumstances, I find the anniversary sadder and more horrific each year. I knew I’d be glued to coverage if I stayed home, so we made plans to hit the road.
Like that day a decade ago, Sunday’s weather was gorgeous. Perfect for a road trip we’ve been meaning to make for at least a year: the Coventry Regional Farmers’ Market. It’s a beautifully organized weekly event held Sundays from June to October, featuring dozens of vendors and lots of fun activities.
Wandering around to booths selling heirloom tomatoes, artisan breads, homemade soaps, local seafood and herbs was oddly relaxing. I even found myself practically chasing a woman holding the most adorable golden retriever puppy I’d ever seen (and I’m kicking myself for not getting a photo of him.)
While Sept. 11 will never be a normal day again, there was comfort and joy in little vignettes. The pissed-off looking dog sitting among a half-dozen alpacas in a makeshift pen, which we laughed about for the first 10 minutes of our ride home. The uber-fresh Swiss chard that we sauteed with garlic, chicken broth and red pepper flakes. And the sense that we’d done something good by supporting local Connecticut (and therefore, American) agriculture, producers and small businesses.
Rodney Strong Rockaway Cabernet Sauvignon is a wine that floored us during a tasting at the Healdsburg vineyard last December. It’s a single-vineyard blend, described as having “juicy red and black fruit character, and an elegantly round and seductive mid-palate.” I’m no expert, so I can’t attest to all of that. I do know that it knocked the wind out of us upon first taste. And if it wasn’t so pricey, we probably could have been convinced to buy a case.
Leeanne Griffin is a freelance writer and food enthusiast.
