And while we’re on the topic of the market, I cannot believe that in nearly thirty years of eating vegetables I have not, until now, enjoyed the delights of a fresh, fleshy bean. Runner beans yes, blue beans that turn green in cooking water, I think so. Tinned beans and dried beans most definately. But this evening’s discovery was in a league all of its own. The market vendor told me emphatically that the only way to enjoy them was in a curry (probably made by his mother), but boiled in stock and swooshed about in garlic, ginger, chilli and odd remnants of grander meals, they were just delicious; sort of buttery and velvety at the same time. They will definately be on my wish list for when I exchange assorted pots and a bit of tarmac for a vegetable garden one day.