by Denise Dubé

Bavaria spatzle, Germany’s white asparagus, and Norwegien salmon are only a few of the specialties I’ve savored during the last few years. But there’s a place much closer to my New England home that brings mouthwatering joy to rivals those international delights.

Since we’ve almost hit summer, rather than book an airline ticket to a gastronomic paradise take a small road trip to your favorite farm stand. There’s no jet lag and luggage only involves shopping bags.

Wilson Farm in Lexington, Massachusetts is my particular favorite, preferred by New Englanders for more than one hundred years. It began in 1884 when two brothers from Ireland bought and farmed 16 acres there. After harvesting their crops the boys packed the produce in a horse-drawn cart and traversed suburban Boston’s winding dirt cow paths and stagecoach roads all the way to Quincy Market where they sold the fresh edibles.

Eventually they started selling from a stand in front of the Lexington farm. Four generations later the fields have more than doubled and the “stand” is now an oversized, barn filled with vegetables, hen-house eggs, dairy and cheese, freshly cut flowers and plants. They even have a 37,000-square-foot greenhouse, which insures fresh veggies all year.

Wilson’s is close, so I tend to visit regularly just to get lost in the aroma that comes from fresh vegetables plucked from rich dark soil only hours earlier. Freshly baked breads, rolls, pies, eggs and homemade jams and jellies kitchen tempt me too.

I depend on Wilson’s during the fall, winter and spring. During the summer, I go there to buy what I can’t grow. While my own garden tomatoes go from green to brilliant red I visit Wilson’s and buy what is in season and daydream over what’s to come.  Waiting for those fresh tomatoes, the fruit, and especially the corn, is agony. I dream of Wilson’s peaches, so ripe and sweet even a handful of napkins won’t stop the juice from dribbling down my arm.

I have foodie fantasies about Wilson’s rich yellow and white corn-on-the-cob, usually ready by late July. It’s best boiled for a few minutes and slathered with fresh butter and a dash of salt. Although only a few minutes, it seems like hours before the ear is cool enough to safely bite into the those lovely yellow kernels. Wilson’s ears are so fresh there is an entire kiosk dedicated to the lines of customers who, like me, yearn for the freshly picked treasures. The hefty offerings are partially shucked, its corn silk hanging over the peeking kernels like feathery babies’ bangs. It’s the stuff of family traditions. Our family sometimes boils a dozen and makes it a meal in itself. (Before putting the ears in boiling water, my mother-in-law always added a dollop of milk. I’m not sure why, but I do it too.)

It’s June, so my fresh veggie thoughts really are fantasies. I’ll have to wait at least six weeks before Wilson’s staff starts tempting corn junkies.

While I dream of Wilson’s produce why not look for a farm stand or Farmer’s Market in your local neighborhood.

Denise can be reached at: Denise@globalfoodie.com.