It's a risk driving to Asheville, given that each time we've driven in that area, Bunny and I get into shouting matches over where we are going and where we currently are located. I think I know why this is now—unlike Orlando which is a maze of roads, each of which have five different names which are never all listed, Asheville is vastly smaller than I think it is.
Back in the late 70s, when I lived in Brevard, Asheville always appeared on maps and even globes, so it became this huge metropolitan capital-C City in my mind as a kid. Something on par with New York or London or even Detroit. Mind you, I never actually saw Asheville, so I never had a chance to experience it until just a few years ago, with a badly drawn map that had absolutely no scale to it, which made navigation a “Fun Time” between Bunny and me.
In reality, Asheville is about twice the area of Boca Raton and about 6% fewer people and it still hasn't really sunk in. Namely because in this area, Asheville is huge, but where I come from, it's about average for a city.
Weird how that works.
Anyway, we had lunch at The Moose Cafe, right at the entrance to the farmers market. Food wise, it's like an organic version of The Cracker Barrel (figures—it's Asheville!) with about the same prices (given that it's practically on top of a farmers market, it's no wonder). It was quite good—can't really complain about the food or the service.
The farmers market itself wasn't terribly busy, but unlike Brevard's farmer market, it's held every day and is less hurt by inclement weather, not that today was inclement. Crystal blue sky and in the low 60s–not terrible weather given it snowed just a few days prior.
We picked up some produce (an 8 pound cabbage head! Carrots a foot long!) and made an uneventful ride back to Brevard.