It is good to visit the Glades, but after the first two or three times each season it is also good to have the option of bagging nature and getting down to the real skinny. And Wayside's strawberry shake is that, quite literally, according to the nice fellow behind the counter: "We make it with just fresh strawberries and nonfat yogurt," he said. "No added sugar."
A steady stream of customers drove in and lined up at the outdoor shake/smoothie counter one recent Sunday. Personally I was pleased that the strawberry shake seemed less super-sweet than Knaus's and, while thick, less stand-up-your-spoon dense than Robert's, which always clogs up my drinking straw. Oddly, though, the potion did seem substantially sweeter than the fresh strawberries on sale in Wayside's produce section.
Additionally the shake had a vague undertaste, becoming more pronounced as the drink warmed up, that was not anything I've ever tasted in either a strawberry or in unflavored nonfat yogurt (except for frozen yogurts containing stabilizers).
Frankly I was also somewhat disappointed in Wayside's produce component, since the majority of the fresh fruits and veggies were out-of-state and foreign imports. Although doubtless a great grocery-shopping convenience to nearby residents, it's not what someone making a special trip seeking an advertised "farmers market at farmers' prices" has in mind. Among the limited local produce selections, Homestead tomatoes, while nicely priced at $1.39 per pound, were barely riper than those in any supermarket, and Homestead corn was old enough that the kernels were indented from liquid loss -- i.e. too old to sell, particularly at a stiff two ears for a buck. Florida navel oranges were also disappointing, dry to the point of desiccation; while almost always insipid-tasting compared with California's, our state's navels characteristically burst with juice. Honeybells, fortunately, were the shirt-ruining fruits that make orange-eaters proud to be Floridian, and, at two for a dollar, the relatively rare citrus (actually not an orange, but an orange-look-alike cross between a tangerine and a grapefruit, available for only about six weeks each year) was priced better than at most gourmet shops.
In my estimation it's as a gourmet shop, albeit a homey one, that Wayside excels. There's a huge stock of homemade jams in suitably Southern farm flavors (the strawberry preserves and piquant pepper jelly are especially tasty). There's a sizable selection of house-made dips in a back fridge (and with crackers for sampling on the front counter). Some are just okay, like a guacamole tasting much more of spices than of avocado, but many are both singular and superior, like a most creative corn hummus; some superbly fresh tomato-based salsas and picadillos; and a lovely light spinach dip, whose barely cooked and sparely bound, sprightly spinach leaves put the average overrich overprocessed glop of the same name to shame. Best are the baked goods. The cinnamon sticky buns ($3.50 per six-pack) are from Knaus, not house-made, but addictive, and Wayside's own stuff is just as scrumptious. "Mom's cookies," 50 cents each, are the old-time chewy kind that don't come from supermarket boxes (or supermarket bakery counters), and the fruit pies are the fabulously flaky-crusted kind mom always wished she could make.
