Not shown: Lincoln's vanishing credit rating.

Turns out there are two Des Moines in the world.  (Okay, there are possibly more, but I can't be bothered to Google that information at the moment.) 

One Des Moines is a lovely little waterfront town at the north end of Poverty Bay, just south of Seattle and pretty close by the airport.  I said, IT'S PRETTY CLOSE BY-  no, CLOSE!  BY!  THE! 

Sigh.  Stupid airplanes.  Anyway, Des Moines, Washington, pronounced "Deh Moyns," sort of, is a charming little place with a lot to recommend it, especially on a lovely summer day such as today.  There's a cute little coffee shop, my friend Pam lives there, and they do a nice little Farmer's Market on Saturdays from 10 AM to 2 PM.

Now, a lot of Farmer's Markets are, let's face it, a bit twee and hippie-oriented, with loads of silly handicrafts and nasty sweets made from store-bought mixes, with maybe a stand selling hot dogs.  If you ever feel like you don't have enough wind chimes, wind socks, or inspirational quotes decoupaged onto a slab of wood, you can go to a market and stock up.

But the Des Moines Farmer's Market is definitely not like that.

In recent years, the market has become an interesting location for lots of small-batch, artisanal farmers and producers, making loads of very interesting stuff.  Armed only with Lincoln's VISA card (and he really needs to start hiding that thing better), and aided by Pamela's not-inconsiderable moral support (we share very similar views on food), and fortified by a very nice iced mocha from a shop whose name I have forgotten, we set forth.

If I'd known this was going to be so good, I'd have taken my OWN money.

First off, a disclaimer: I really had no idea that I was going to write about this when I went there today.  I just thought I was spending some quality time with a school friend.  I didn't know there was going to be all that great food.

Pam didn't, either, and she was born and raised in Des Moines.  "This is my first time here," she admitted.

I was also limited somewhat by my budget.  Turns out Lincoln has been lying about his salary.  Either that, or he's stashing money away in another account.  The point is that I didn't have as much money as I might have liked.

So, I couldn't afford a lot of the stuff I wanted, such as the grass-fed beef pepperoni with no preservatives or artificial additives, or the lemon, pepper, and basil pasta, or pretty much the entire output of Blue Rose Dairy and their fascinating assortment of goat cheeses, about which more in a moment.

I didn't buy anything in the way of fresh veg, which I maybe should have done.  There were a lot of really quality-looking fresh vegetables and herbs for sale.   Pam bought some apricots and a lovely big fennel.

Both delicious. plus I think the smaller jar on the left cured my asthma.

Let's start off with the two innocent-looking jars from Frawg 'N' Turtle.  It turns out that the products produced by this company contain neither Frog nor Turtle.  I can't say that I was disappointed to learn that.

Especially not after tasting their regular wares.  FNT feature delicious sauces and mustards containing apples; kind of a cross between Mom's apple butter and, well, hot mustard.  I bought a jar of Horsey Hot Apple Mustard, which does the most amazing things to a Boca Burger, and a jar of their Apple BBQ Sauce, which is going to change the way we eat chicken around here, believe you me.

Sorry about the image quality; I took these photos on my 1G iPhone.

Between Pamela and me, we sampled everything that Blue Rose Dairy had to offer.  This smallish, goat-only dairy in Winlock has their own herd of goats and make their own cheeses featuring local and natural herbs, and I could have easily purchased every single thing they make.

A real standout was the Lavender and Honey Cheese, a smooth cheese that would be fantastic with fresh fruit.  I can really see eating some of this with strawberries and apple slices.  They also do a lovely Red Pepper Cheese, a very nice plain and also Dill Chevre, and several excellent variations on Feta.

I ultimately chose the dry Feta, which has a nice hard, nutty texture and flavor, almost like a Mizithra.  In fact, I'm going to grate it onto pasta with some browned butter, sea salt, cracked pepper, and garlic, and serve it with a nice Riesling.

This is a tiny little jar.

Finally, a little honey, from an artisanal outfit that is so groovy and local that they don't even bother to put labels on their small jars.  This stuff, I'm pretty certain, is Fireweed Honey from a set of hives near Longview.  It's got a slightly smoky aftertaste that I think would go really really well with certain cheeses.  Maybe not the Blue Rose Feta; that stuff has a set of flavors all its own.  I'm actually thinking some fresh sliced tomato and basil with this.  I'll be back there soon, and I'll get the name of the place.  The kid who runs the stand seems to really know his honey, though.  Sharp young man.