Few things are as tempting as a silver plate of fudge samples found unexpectedly at the register of a small-town specialty shop. How loudly the marbled slivers call to us, “Take me,” until we are finally willing to feign the sheepish grin at the teenage clerk and then go in for the kill. Nothing is worse in that moment, standing before a closely-attended sample display, than discovering the absence of the tiny glass toothpick keg. Do I take with my fingers? Are the morsels spaced far enough apart so that I won’t accidentally nudge a second piece with an errant knuckle or fingernail? And then, when you have consumed the spot of divinity placed there just for you, you raise your eyebrows to the clerk and say “hmm.” There’s a slight pause before she hits the total button on the cash register, just after realizing you’re not buying. Only the most audacious among us will, after taking our paper bag of postcards from her hands, go in for the second hit, holding the bit up to her momentarily in silent thanks...though I have seen it done.
Even better is the discovery of the well-hidden, unattended sample platter. A bowl of pulverized peanut brittle or strong, grainy mustard. A mirrored tray of candied nuts whose fresh, warm cousins are churning away just inches behind the glass barrier of the roasting machine. A suggestively open jar of black bean salsa, welcoming, almost daring, an assault of tiny round corn tortilla chips. The experience of sampling, of boldly taking what is not mine, is delicate and intimate and some kind of intrepid. It is the thrill of committing a crime I would never venture, the pretension of indulging in a boutique commodity I can scarcely afford.
Entering a gourmet food shop feels as if the world is throwing a tapas party in my honor. I suppress the urge to crack my knuckles loudly before I begin but quickly find myself moving through each station like Templeton conquering the heaps of edible refuse left over at the fair. Like a gracious dinner guest, I do not turn up my nose at the ones whose descriptions sound unpalatable. Free from the self-conscious inhibitions borne of being watched, I plunge pretzel sticks into every single jam and jelly. I pop a large green wasabi almond and chase it with a paper pill cup of hot mulled cider, shaking out every last drop as if I were standing in the shadow of Jim Jones himself. In the course of ten minutes I take the unassuming little shop for all it’s worth and walk out gnawing a toothpick to splinters. It is pedestrian and legal and even expected behavior, but I revel in an illusion of aggression and dominance, as if I am sneaking out in the early morning hours knowing I will never call.
My favorite places for free samples in Vermont:
Harvest Bread Company, Burlington, VT
The generous slice of wholesome, often-warm bread, accompanied by softened VT Butter and Cheese Co. butter, does not make up the for the exorbitantly-priced loaves…but it comes close.
Cold Hollow Cider Mill, Waterbury, VT
Fresh cider in Dixie cups. A round trough of mustards, jams, jellies to be tasted atop common crackers.
Stowe Mercantile, Stowe, VT
Jams, jellies, salsas, hummus, candied nuts abound.
Vermont Country Store, Weston, VT
An assortment of jams, sweets and cheeses to nibble on and sundry eclectic items to look at.
Cabot Cheese Outlet, Waterbury, VT
Gorge on cheese cubes to your heart’s content. Pop a handful of cheddar cheese shake popcorn on your way in, and on your way out.
Dakin Farms, Ferrisburgh, VT
Smoked cheeses and meats, maple products, salsas, fudge…bring a bib and enjoy.
Jean-Talon Market, Montreal, QC (okay, a short drive from VT)
A feast for foraging fruitarians, this market has lovely displays of fresh fruit samples at each of the hundreds of vendors that sell imported fruits and veggies seven days a week. And although you’ll have to pay for it, the freshly boiled corn-on-the-cob is worth its weight in gold.
4 years ago
