These days are a gift – the hot sun of early fall, gradually easing us out of summer and into … what’s coming. Let’s not think about that.

I did not think I would take such pleasure in the food of downtown Toronto, but there’s so much great stuff. My all-local dinner was delicious. I know others have been doing this forever, the “hundred mile diet” and all that, but France has taught me, too, to seek out what’s in season and available nearby. Today is the Riverdale Farm farmer’s market, where I bought “heritage tomatoes,” whatever they are. It seems to mean they’re funny-looking – odd colours and shapes, bright yellows, purply green, huge, tiny, oblong. I also bought two big bunches of basil, which bushed out of my backpack as I rode home on my bike. Nature Woman.

Had tomatoes and basil in vinaigrette for supper with corn and grilled chicken. I do not think my French friends would have turned up their noses at this meal, simple as it was. Though Denis would have eaten the corn, as he does hamburgers and pizza, with a knife and fork.

My student Mona, who’s been following the blog, has just emailed me the names of some of her favourite delicious Quebecois cheeses. “If you can’t find them,” she said, “I’ll be your supplier.” Yes! That’s what I need – suppliers. Supply me with your Canadian treats, and I’ll blog about them once they’ve been devoured. What a fine idea. Hmmm?

As I made my way back home from the market, I gloried in my neighbourhood. In the park, a group of mid-Eastern women, heads covered and one with only her eyes showing, with their children, a group of Caribbean women with their children, an Asian family, a South American couple, a couple of men strolling hand in hand … diversity, thy name is Cabbagetown.