Lawrence is the mobile grocery guy. He swings through our neighbourhood every day with fresh fruits and vegetables along with a selection of local preserves and wines. There are several supply trucks that loop around Xaghra (pronounced Sha-ra), the mountaintop town where we live. In addition to Lawrence’s groceries, we have a regular supply of chickens and also fish when the catch is good. It’s so old fashioned, but it still works. And I love it.
Malta has grocery stores, but even the town supermarket is about the size of a Seven Eleven.
Like the ice cream truck familiar to so many North American kids, each mobile grocer has a distinctive horn, although you can smell the fish truck coming in case you have potatoes in your ears and can’t hear it. This morning, my mom and I both went running out to the truck as though Lawrence was handing out ice cream cones for free. Even better, he had a stock supply of local honey, vine ripe tomatoes and fresh figs. After a day of relying on in-flight service, eating what was on the menu only out of sheer boredom, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on something substantial.
This hit the spot.
