I dropped into the cafe this morning, where everyone knew my name and greeted me with delight. The owner tucked some free just-made rum balls into my lunch, and gave us the number of some locals who had fresh scallops.
Fast forward: a couple lives down by the water with six cats and two lovebirds, they're fishermen and carpenters, and they hauled in scallops from the channel just offshore from the island that morning, and the wife shucked them all day. For a sweet price we got enormous scallops that were alive this morning just off our front yard, brought them home and seared them with snow peas in a mango-ginger-blueberry teriyaki glaze. Oh my god, you guys.
The scallop couple? Say they're sick to death of pan-seared scallops for dinner, and dream of PBnJ.
Now if only I could get some raw milk, my local food underground I-know-a-guy-who-knows-a guy life will be complete.