There are few things that cause me as much anxiety as the farmer’s market. Waiting in line anywhere makes me nervous, especially in places where the rules are unclear. Don’t get me wrong, I love what the farmer’s market stands for, and I love the food there. But for me, the market itself is nothing but pure anarchy.
For the last three weeks though, we’ve had a good reason to brave the unruly crowds: Dai Due Butcher Shop.
Week one: This was Dai Due’s first week at the market. We got there bright and early and even pre-ordered our goods from Dai Due. Nonetheless, I felt like I was under attack the entire time. As we left the parking deck, I speed-walked away from Eliza, dodging Prius’s, Smart Cars, and some dudes carrying clipboards–presumably asking me to sign a vegetarian pledge, or help get Ron Paul on the ballot in 2012–and made my way to the Dai Due tent.
Biscuits and gravy! As much as I love breakfast tacos, there’s nothing like a fresh buttermilk biscuit. And while biscuits and gravy have actually never been one of my breakfast favorites, these were amazing. Maybe that’s what happens when the gravy doesn’t come from a can.
We washed em down with some super-sweet hibiscus tea. Afterwards, we took home some bulk breakfast sausage and chorizo. I’ve been eating breakfast sausage my entire life and I’ve never had any that was nearly this good. They use Richardson Farms pork (whose pork chops reign supreme in our household), and apparently they’ve sold their soul to the devil for his personal recipe because this stuff is for real.
Week two: We took home some serious charcuterie. The rabbit and chicken rillettes were astounding, especially with Dai Due’s own apple and jalapeno chutney.
We also ventured into the mysterious land of head cheese.
We weren’t having guests over, but Eliza is all about presentation, so here you go, world. A Dai Due glamour shot, courtesy of Eliza and the lovely fluorescent light in our kitchen:
Week three: I picked up some quail liver mousse and a baguette from Texas French Bread this morning. But I arrived a little late, so Dai Due was sold out of sausage and biscuits. I cried a little, but as I was reaching out for a napkin to wipe the tears, some lady pushing a stroller sucker-punched me in the kidney and ordered some kielbasa. These farmer’s market types mean business.