Eastern Market Burns Down

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I've been so caught up in my own stuff lately that I didn't even know that Eastern Market burned down two weeks ago

My heart is broken.

The cheese lady is gone.

So are the blueberry pancakes that I never got up early enough to eat--at the greasyspoon that's been there since the 1950s.

And so is the meat case with 20 different kinds of sausage: spicy chicken apple sausage, spinach feta sausage, sundried tomato sausage, chocolate mole pork sausage, marshmallow and shredded carrot-jello-sausage. (Okay, not that last one.)

Gone, too, is the bakery with the Russian tea cookies that were so dry and sweet, with cool, white powdered sugar on top.

The walnut-chocolate ruggelah? Gone.

Also gone are the wedges of a dozen different kinds of apple slices served up as samples on paper plates scattered around the produce stand.

And so are the fish heads. Row upon row of fish heads.

Most heartrending of all-- the cheeseladystand is gone.

At the cheeseladystand, you could get free tastes of cheese "from all parts of the world." A crowd would gather there every Saturday and Sunday, where Mr. and Mrs. Cheeselady stood behind the counter busily pushing tasty slivers of cheese at people. There was never a sales pitch; the cheese sold itself. This meant that I could stand at the cheeseladystand for a long time and have a lot of little cheese slices before choosing something to bring home. With every sample, I'd stand back for a second and think--hard. Was THIS the one to bring home? Before I knew it, though, there would be another sample in front of me, and Mrs. Cheeselady would say, "Good, right?"

Once I decided what to buy, Mr. Cheeselady would give me a quick, knowing nod: out of hundreds of cheeses, I'd chosen the best one. Mr. Cheeselady never measured anything; he'd inch a knife back and forth along the cheese slab until you'd say "when!!" Then, he'd wrap your cheese in white paper, put it in a brown paper bag, and send you on your way.

Fifteen years ago, when I lived on Capital Hill, I was into free food samples--out of necessity rather than any sort of gourmandrie. As a recent graduate and "can-do girl" at the Justice Department, I initially made so little money that I sometimes used bar soap to wash my clothes. Still, at the cheeseladystand, I sometimes found myself leaving with an $8 slab of cheese . . . and feeling so happy about it. Eight dollars was more than fair for what I'd get: 100 little cheese slivers and a little love from Mr. and Mrs. Cheeselady.

NOW where will I get my slivers? (Don't you dare say "Whole Foods." If a Whole Foods moves in, I'm leaving the country. )

Long Live the CheeseLadyStand!!


p.s.: OH!!!!here they are!!http://www.bowerscheese.com/