Anyway, one of the first times I went to the market I took my granny cart – one of those old lady carts that I’d seen in Chinatown in Toronto before I moved. Ever so practical, those old Chinese Grandmothers. Mine was even uncomfortably low to the ground, intended for short women, making it difficult for me (though not a tall woman) to drag behind me. I walked the 30 minutes through Outremont, the Mile End, Little Italy, and the beginnings of the cultural mélange that happens on rue Jean-Talon all the way to the market. Being the end of the summer, I loaded up on fresh produce until my cart was full. For me, the beginning of September means buying as many fruit as you can to freeze for the lean months to come. So that’s what I did. I topped off my laden cart with $20 worth of Quebec blueberries – the wild ones that actually taste like something, not the big, fat New Jersey ones that are all brawn and no brain – flesh and no flavour.