ONE OF LIFE'S basic postulates is that there can never be too many farmers' markets. So the recent launch of a Saturday-morning farmers' market in a parking lot at Fillmore and Eddy Streets is not just a welcome development in itself but also a hopeful sign of farmers'-market decentralization. The best farmers' market is, like the Fillmore-Eddy market, a neighborhood farmers' market, easily accessible and easily absorbed into people's routines.

Facing a basil crisis – large quantities of summer's signature herb being required for a tomato tart, the accompanying mayonnaise, and a marinade for grilled king salmon, with dinner guests just hours away – I scheduled a stop at Fillmore and Eddy for Saturday, noonish.

You might consider that a recklessly late hour. Farmers'-market lore, after all, is replete with up-and-at-'em figures who gather at the break of day so as to have first crack at the day's offerings when they arrive. But I do not like to rush on Saturdays, and I do not like to fight crowds, then or anytime, and I was willing to take some chances.

The market sets up in a big, square asphalt parking lot enclosed by a chain-link fence. It is not a fancy space, but it is roomy, and it does not pretend to be anything other than urban. The vendors' stalls are comfortably spaced; the signage is mostly handwritten on pieces of cardboard – just like the good old days at Ferry Plaza. The overall feel of Fillmore-Eddy, in fact, is very much reminiscent of Ferry Plaza before it became a huge national event, with stories in the New York Times and a big building.

Basil? I found the tons I needed. Some of it was even organic; all of it was cheap. The market's offerings as a whole are unfancy (cucumbers, tomatoes, spinach, herbs: the summertime bounty everyday cooks use every day), along with a few unexpected and alluring items, like baby orange bell peppers. I wondered for a moment what I might do with a pound of them (char on the grill? quarter and add to a salad, or a paella?) but we were in a hurry, and maybe next time.

Maybe next time, or some time soon, a farmers' market will turn up in some other neighborhood. The city seems to be unusually rich in possibilities; from Cow Hollow to Noe Valley to West Portal and beyond, our town is a quilt of cozy urban villages inhabited by food-savvy people who doubtless would make a point of incorporating a weekly visit to their neighborhood farmers' market into their routine, whether they happened to be in need of tons of basil or not.