Counting

This is Jessica, one of the market managers, counting customers coming into the Madrona Farmers' Market. Some markets count people coming in on each end of a market for ten minutes each hour, then multiply that number by 6 to get an approximate count for the entire hour. Other markets have someone walk around with a clicker every half hour and count everyone they see, because shopper surveys have shown that the average person stays at a farmers' market for about half an hour.

Researchers have found that both systems for counting customers provide very similar numbers. It's important to have an accurate count so market administrators can evaluate how a market is doing with its outreach efforts. If the numbers are good, they can also be a way to bring in new vendors.

An Averted Robbery

I learned yesterday that someone tried to rob my humble establishment one day over the winter. He came in waving a box knife and said, "Give me all the money in your till."

My employee happened to be prepping vegetables behind the counter with a much larger knife. He picked it up, showed it to the guy, and said, "Get the @#%$*& out of here."

The guy left.

Francine Prose's "Gluttony"

I just finished Francine Prose's essay "Gluttony". It's part of a series published by Oxford University Press exploring contemporary attitudes towards each of the seven deadly sins.

I've read 4 or 5 of Prose's novels over the years and I've always liked--but not loved--them. Her writing is clever, insightful, and entertaining, but I read fiction for the characters, and many of hers tend to be more caricatures than fully developed, complex human beings.

In any case, I truly enjoyed this short work, which explores the connection between historical and contemporary views towards gluttony, which we commonly refer to today as overeating. She compares modern judgements towards those who can't--or don't--control their appetites with medieval visions of the torments that gluttons experience in hell, pointing out strong parallels between the language that dieters use today to describe their lapses (sin, indulgence) and the traditional religious language used for sin.

It's certainly worth picking up: a quick read, intelligent, well-written, and relevant.

Fennel Phase

Lately I've been using fennel in just about everything. Sometimes I find myself just ripping off stalks and eating it.

The other day I hit on an especially delightful flavor combination. I'm not including a recipe because I wasn't entirely happy with the texture-- I used too much of the fennel stalk and it ended up being way too fibrous--but I was certainly blown away by the flavor.

I roasted some fennel with some garlic and some cherry tomatoes after tossing them with a little bit of olive oil and salt. Then I squeezed the pulp out of the garlic and pureed it with the tomatoes and fennel, adding some parsley, balsamic vinegar and salt.

I ate it with pasta and I enjoyed it, but I don't think that's necessarily the best way to use it. Let's just call it a work in progress, one that's exciting enough that I felt compelled to share it, even in this form.

A Rough Week

It's been a rough week or so. It started when I burned my hand at the Ballard Market last weekend. Burns are an occupational hazard--they happen all the time--but this one was the worst I'd had in quite a few years. Later the same day I smashed the back window of my truck's canopy trying to close it on some stuff that was poking out. A few days later the compressor on my reach-in cooler went down-that's like having to replace your car's engine. On top of that, it poured on the two days when I usually have my busiest markets.

And yet, every time I start feeling sorry for myself I keep coming back to the thought of how lucky I am, doing work I love and making ends meet. Nobody said it was going to be easy, and for now I still can't imagine doing anything else.

Farmers' Maket Pricing Strategies: An Informal Survey

I wrote a post last week about an article in the Seattle PI telling about a group of teenagers who did a study comparing supermarket prices in different neighborhoods. They tentatively found that products in higher income neighborhoods were more expensive than in less affluent areas, and I commented that this was much better than the alternative, which is the all too common situation of finding higher prices in lower income neighborhoods, where many people don't have the resources to go somewhere else to shop.

I received a comment from a reader who is deeply involved in the Queen Anne Farmers' Market, observing that on Queen Anne even the farmers raise their prices because they think everyone in the neighborhood can afford to pay more, and some Queen Anne residents drive to Ballard because they think the prices at that market are lower.

I was intrigued by the question of whether farmers charged different prices in different neighborhoods, so I started asking them. I said I was doing an informal, confidential survey, figuring that, as a vendor myself, they were likely to be honest with me. I spoke to folks from 8 different farms, sometimes employees, and sometimes the farmers themselves. Some were eager to talk about the issue, which appears to be something they grapple with. In general, their comments were fascinating and widely varied.

Three vendors said they never varied their prices anywhere, although they were sometimes accused by customers of charging more at a particular market, especially Bellevue. (Another said they did, in fact charge more at Bellevue.) One said they charged more at Ballard, another named Redmond, and a third said they never raised their prices, but they did lower them at the Broadway market, because people didn't seem able to pay the usual prices. Only one wouldn't tell me where they charged higher prices, but I know this person well enough to say that it was a matter of discretion, rather than sleaziness.

Nobody mentioned charging more on Queen Anne, and when I mentioned that there was a perception among customers that farmers charged more at that market, one farmer said that some other farmers did charge higher prices there, but it wasn't because of a perception that the clientele could afford it, but rather because it was a small market, so they had to charge more in order to recoup their expenses.

A number of farmers mentioned that they varied prices at different points in the season, based on whether an item was abundant or scarce, and how many other farmers were selling the same fruit or vegetable. Others said they had to charge less at markets like Ballard and the University district where there was more competition, but the volume made up for it. Another said that at the bigger, more established markets like Ballard and the University District, farmers had a chance to establish loyal clienteles, and as they got to know their customers better they were able to charge more. Note that Ballard and the U District--the two biggest markets in the city--were both named as places where one could charge more, and also as markets where it was important to keep prices low.

In general, I observed that farmers struggle with this issue and don't have easy answers. Some came around later in the day with additional thoughts. None of the folks I spoke to are getting rich doing small scale farming and selling their produce at neighborhood markets, and if they raise their prices sometimes because they think a particular market can bear it, it's not out of greed but out of an ongoing effort to make a living doing very difficult, very important work.

Does Your Lemonade have Sugar?

1. I'm old enough to remember when people used to ask if the lemonade had sugar because they wanted a product that had a more wholesome sweetener, like honey. These days, when someone asks if the lemonade has sugar, they're usually making sure that it doesn't have something worse, like high fructose corn syrup.

Chile Wreaths

It's chile wreath season! The bright colorful rings are adorning the sides of the tents, making everything feel more festive.

You don't see chile wreaths early in the summer, when there are a limited number of chile varieties around. They make their appearance somewhat later, when there are a rainbow of chile colors available.

Alvarez Farms hangs the most colorful, abundant chile wreaths in town. They use purples and yellows, reds and oranges. Some use just a pair of colors, others use a whole palette.

I first opened my shop in Ballard during chile wreath season, and I decorated it accordingly. I chose paint colors that matched the chiles: oranges and yellows. After the chiles dried and faded, there were times when I looked around and wondered why I'm chosen those colors. The following summer, when I picked up fresh chile wreaths, it was easy to remember.

The Beginning of the End

1. Yesterday's Columbia City Market was wet and dreary. I mostly stayed in the cab of the truck reading a book, letting my staff take care of business. I figure I've done my time, during those wet, January 40 degree days, and I'll be doing it again soon enough.

A dreary day in late August feels different than a dreary day in late July. In July it's usually just a blip in a pattern of mostly friendly weather. In late August it's a glimpse of the long season that will be with us soon enough.

I heard the Kirkland market actually shut down early yesterday. I've never been at a market that shut down early, although I've been to plenty of markets that were worse than this one. In any case, the weather today is supposed to be better.

Seattle's Food Gap

An article in the PI earlier this week related the results of a community survey undertaken by a group of teenagers during the past few months comparing supermarket prices in different parts of town. Although the results were far from consistent, the overall conclusion was that prices were higher in more affluent neighborhoods.

The teenagers observed that there was some correlation between price and quality: PCC had the highest prices overall, but they had no mainstream junk food, which tends to be particularly inexpensive. They also found themselves asking important, thought provoking questions like how could bananas be so cheap when they're flown in from so far away.

I found the article particularly interesting because I've been slowly making my way through Mark Winne's "Closing the Food Gap", a book that came out earlier this year addressing the issue of inequities in the way food is sold and distributed in this country. (It's a very good book. I'm only reading so slowly because I have so much else going on.) The introduction describes Winne's experience moving to Hartford, Connecticut during the 1970's and discovering that the grocery stores in the heart of the city were dirty, decrepit, and expensive, while the stores in the suburbs were cleaner, better lit, and offered better prices.

With Winne's book as background, I was actually encouraged to read the results of the study related by the PI. It's better to have a direct correlation between price and quality than to have stale, dirty food costing more than fresh, appealing food. And it's better to have rich people paying more for food than poor people pay. (If they don't like it, they have the resources to drive to less affluent neighborhoods and pay less.)

There's still so much that's wrong with the food system in this country, but I do think we've taken some step forward when we're questioning why food is so cheap instead of asking why it's so expensive.

Chinese Spinach

This time of year the Asian farmers sell a leafy green with plenty of red and purple color as well. They call it Chinese spinach and also sometimes amaranth.

This has always intrigued me. I encountered amaranth as a grain when I worked in a natural food store in the 1980's. I was under the impression that it was indigenous to the Americas, and widely used by the Incas and Aztecs before European colonization. I figured there had to be some kiind of story as to how it came to be called "Chinese spinach," but I didn't hope to find it. After all, we barely understand how more common plants like corn and potatoes spread, although it's reasonably clear that, before 1492, nobody knew about them outside the Americas.

I did some cursory research, and learned that amaranth was mentioned in Aesop's fables, and was also used in the rites of the Ephesian god Artemis. Because these references preceded 1492, the plant must have been found in both hemispheres. That's not altogether unheard of--there were species of grapes evolving in both hemispheres--but it's really not very common. There are more than 60 species of amaranth, so different species must have evolved in different hemispheres. I'm on shaky ground here, speculating about something that I don't know much about. But, to paraphrase Socrates, another venerable Greek, I suppose I know more now knowing what I don't know, than I did when I thought I knew something I didn't actually know.

Tilted Peach Tasting

There was a peach tasting at the Magnolia Farmers' Market on Saturday, with a volunteer bringing around a tray of samples from different farms. She pointed out her favorite, from Billy's Farm in Tonasket, and I had to agree that it was the most flavorful of the options.

I was surprised that the sample from Pipitone Farm wasn't as tasty as it should have been: I've had plenty of their fruit, and it's always wonderful. Later in the day it hit me: I'd been working in the stall next to theirs, and any time anyone had come up to the booth asking for a peach to eat right away, they'd said that the peaches had just been picked and wouldn't be ripe until the following day. And yet those were the peaches that were being used for the sampling.

I'm sure there was nothing deliberate about the decision to sample peaches on a day when this particular farm's fruit wasn't quite ripe. I'm also not convinced that this sort of thing makes that much difference in the overall scheme of things. Pipitone Farms has been around for many, many years, farming organically for longer than almost anyone else in the area. They've built up a customer base over the years, and one day of tilted sampling isn't going to change that. Still, I wish there was some way to do it over, on a day when their peaches are perfect.

Summer Winter Squash

Even though we're still deep in the heart of summer, I saw some squash this week that was undoubtably the earliest winter squash: it had a thick skin and had to be cooked, unlike zucchini or patty pans, which can be eaten either raw or cooked.

I asked the farmer what the variety was called and she said she didn't know, just some early variety of winter squash. Of course I bought one.

Part of me is certainly looking forward to apples and pumpkins and harvest food, but it's always bittersweet to actually find them. It's hard to believe when it's 90 degrees outside, but summer is almost gone.

Salsa of Love

This time of year, when chiles and tomatoes are abundant and ripe, I make a salsa that I call, "Salsa of Love," because I'll make it for love, but not for money. Here's how it's made:

Crank the oven to 400 degrees, or if you're oven runs cool, crank it higher than that. Use a couple of pounds of very ripe tomatoes, and almost as many chiles. Use plenty of mild chiles, like Anaheims and Poblanos, and also hot ones, if you like it hot. It only takes a couple of hot ones to make it all pretty hot, and the mild ones have lots of great flavor too. Rub the chiles with a little bit of olive oil, and roast everything for 45 minutes to an hour, until the skins start to peel off the tomatoes and the chiles get brown and droopy. Don't cook the chiles long enough for them to get crispy.

When the veggies are cool enough to handle, chop a bunch of cilantro in your cuisinart, then remove the stems from the chiles and process them as well. Cut the cores out of the tomatoes and toss the tomatoes into the mix. Do it in a couple of batches if it starts to get sloppy.

When everything is fully whizzed, add salt and red wine vinegar to taste.

Share the love...

Midsummer Garlic

This season I've been particularly enjoying the different phases of garlic's life cycle, from the early shoots that look like green onions, to the slippery cloves with supple peels available early in the summer.

The garlic that's been available the past few weeks is young adult. The cloves are the size of the ones we use all through the winter, and the skin has begun to grow papery. But the garlic itself is moist enough to leave your fingers sticky when you cut it.

Unlike winter garlic, which has been dried, these bulbs are eaten fresh. They tend to be different varieties than the ones that last through most of the winter. The farmers' who grow them specifically plan on having this fresh garlic available during the summer months, and then they plant other varieties that dry well, to sell later in the season.

Raw Milk Cheese

This is raw milk cheese made by Sea Breeze Farm. They're one of several local outfits producing raw milk cheese, including Estrella Family Creamery, and River Valley Ranch. Raw milk cheese is made from unpasteurized milk, so it contains those healthy (and tasty) bacteria that are destroyed when milk is heated enough to meet the health department standards that are enforced in most states.

In Washington state it's legal to sell raw milk cheese as long as its been aged for 60 days. The aging process changes the pH enough to make it safe enough for the health department's standards. River Valley Ranch pasteurizes the milk they use in their fresh cheeses (those that are less than 60 days old), but uses raw milk for their aged cheeses.

I'm a long term cheese aficionado, but it took me a while to get used to the taste of raw milk cheese. At first I found it, well, skunky. But the more I ate of it, the more I liked it. It tastes much more real than the pasteurized cheeses I grew up with. It's always a good idea to eat cheese at room temperature, but with the raw milk cheeses, it's nothing short of necessary.

Tomatoes with Pedigree

These are Italian heirloom tomatoes grown by Pipitone Farms. The farm specializes mainly in stone fruit, like apricots and peaches, but I get the feeling there's something different about these tomatoes. They're a labor of love, a way of connecting with an ancestry that has been perfecting the art of growing tomatoes for hundreds of years. Jerry Pipitone, the farm's proprietor, buys his seeds directly from Italy, choosing varieties that make the best sauces. They're warted and funny looking, unlike the perfectly shaped tomatoes grown by some of the other tomato vendors (which are also exquisite-tasting-don't get me wrong.) Still, I'll choose these for a classic marinara sauce, because they've been grown and bred by folks who know their marinara sauce better than anyone.

Best Pretzels in Town

On Saturday at the Magnolia Farmers' Market I worked next to Allison from Heavenly Pastries, whose pretzels just won the Weekly's Best of Seattle endorsement for "Best Pretzel Outside Pennsylvania." She hadn't even known about the distinction until a customer told her at the Madrona market on Friday.

I love her pastries, which are consistently perfect renditions of classic items like chocolate chip cookies and lemon scones. I'm also really grateful to have a source of savory baked goods, like cheese and jalapeno scones, and these wonderful pretzels, which are now getting some of the acclaim they deserve. There aren't enough savory pastries in the world.

Copyediting

I've been working on two different cookbooks this summer: one is a collection of vegan recipes based on local, seasonal ingredients. It's called "Local Bounty", and it's going to press any day now so it should be out sometime in September. The other project is an updated edition of "The Accidental Vegan". That one is scheduled to come out this coming March.

I've spent nearly all of my days off this summer working on one manuscript or the other. At one point I got both books back from the different publishers within a day of each other, with two weeks to turn them both around. It was a wonderful problem to have, in fact, it's the kind of problem I've long dreamed of having.

My long term goal is to transition to a livelihood that isn't quite as physically demanding, because I'm not getting any younger. During the winters I've been taking classes at North Seattle Community College, completing a program in Communication, Business and Media. (This blog started as a project for a class I took there.) I want to figure out a way to use my writing skills to help get the message out about local, sustainable foods, and why they're so important.

I'm learning so much from this copyediting process. It doesn't come naturally to me; I'm not detail-oriented by nature. The past couple of weeks I've been reviewing revisions and suggestions made to "The Accidental Vegan" made by a freelance editor who specializes in vegetarian cookbooks. Her style is very different from mine: she wants everything to be as specific as possible, while I think of recipes as outlines or blueprints. Sometimes I feel like I'm starting to hate this editor, and then I'll find a comment like, "This sounds yummy. I'm going to stop for the day and go cook some."

In the end, I'm sure we'll work out a series of compromises, making the instructions as detailed as possible while still leaving plenty of wiggle room. and the next time I sit down to write a recipe, I'll be thinking about it differently, asking different kinds of questions, and working to make it more user-friendly.

The Media and the Market

I see some kind of media crew at one market or another every week or two. Farmers' Markets are hot. Everyone wants to do a story on them.

These guys were at the Queen Anne Farmers' Market yesterday afternoon. I'm not sure what they were filming for, but I overheard someone giving stage directions to someone they were interviewing. Hmmm.

Personally, I've had some less than positive experiences talking to the media at farmers' markets. Last year one of the local TV stations was doing a story on Sustainable Ballard's 100 mile diet. They asked me if I thought people were ready to eat all local foods. I answered honestly that I didn't think it had to be an all-or-nothing endeavor: we should all eat as many local foods as possible, but it didn't make sense to eat a 100% local diet because there are items that just aren't available locally, like salt, spices, coffee, chocolate, and olive oil. They only part they included in the broadcast was this list of items.

I learned an important lesson from the experience: shades of grey don't make good mainstream news stories. Ever since then, when I've had the opportunity to speak to the media, I haven't expressed a shred of ambivalence. If they want nuance, they'll have to earn it.

Melons!

We're beginning to see melons at the markets. Yesterday at Columbia City Tonnemacher Farms had bins of watermelons and canteloupes.

When they're setting up their booth, one guy will stand on the truck and he'll toss the melons to another guy who sets them in the bin. It's a lot of fun to watch.

May I Have Some Water?

It's a simple question, an ancient question, but when someone asks it when I'm selling food at a farmers' market, I never have a good answer.

I don't sell bottled water. I think it's criminal that we use so many plastic bottles for water when we have perfectly respectable tap water available to us. Even if I didn't have an issue with the bottles, some of the market administrators have policies against selling items you haven't produced yourself. Even though they enforce these rules randomly and sporadically, it's just not worth it to me.

I could just serve some water in a cup and not charge for it. Restaurants do it, in fact, my restaurant does it. But there's a difference between simply turning on the tap at a restaurant, and hauling enough extra water to the market to pass it out to everyone who asks for it. At many of the markets I have to make choices about the best way to use the limited space I have in my truck and, even though it would be a lovely good will gesture to bring water to give away, I'm trying to run a business and it's just not feasible.

I'll certainly give away a cup of water if someone seems to be suffering from the heat. But in most cases folks can find bottled water within a block of the market if they truly want it. One wonderful market manager actually brings down cups and a cooler of water on hot days, so I can send folks down to the information table to get some if they really need it. But otherwise, it's just a conundrum, one which often leaves me feeling guilty and confused.

Halfway Through the Season

It's early August now, which is about half way through the market season. I'm holding up reasonably well energy-wise, and I've saved about half the amount that I was hoping to put away for the winter.

Part of me is actually looking forward to winter, which has become a time of lazy rhythms, reading and writing and resting. But then I look at all the spectacular produce I bring home each day, so much great stuff that I can't fit it into the refrigerator drawer, and I wonder how I can possibly look forward to another time of year.

Farmers' market work can be grueling, with long hours, heavy lifting, fast-paced work (when we're lucky,) and being outside in all kinds of weather. The relatively short season is a blessing and a curse: we don't have to keep up this intense pace all year, but we do have to support ourselves off of an endeavor that doesn't yield much during the winter. I feel fortunate to have been doing this work long enough to have a good feel for what I have to accomplish during the summer in order to make it through the winter. And so many of the farmers and vendors I know wouldn't choose any other kind of life.

First Tomatoes

I've been gathering a couple of small tomatoes from the humble garden I planted this spring, which consists mainly of eleven tomato plants, with five or six different varieties. (Have I mentioned that I love tomatoes?)

It's exciting to harvest them and they're pretty tasty, but part of me can't help wondering if it's actually worth it. I trade with the farmers at the markets where I vend and I come home with all kinds of great produce, including tomatoes. It's so much easier and cheaper than going out there every day weeding and watering. I have to admit, some of the ones I bring home from the markets really do taste better than mine.

On some level I'm not being fair to myself. I'm an amateur gardener with a lousy track record, and I'm comparing my tomatoes to specimens grown by people whose life's work is growing tomatoes. Besides, the real issue isn't the time and expense I have to put into growing my own tomatoes, but rather the fact that our social and economic system treats the labor of growing and producing food as one of the least important and least valued enterprises (along with caring for children) when it's actually the most important kind of work. If we weren't able to eat, none of the other stuff could happen.

The practice of paying farmworkers a barely subsistence wage has put us in a situation where it's hard to find domestic labor to do the job. The cheap food made from the produce harvested with cheap labor is making many people sick and obese, and creating a bind where farmers who have available land and the skills and knowledge to produce better food aren't producing up to capacity because it's not cost effective for them to sell their fruits and vegetables at the kinds of prices that folks are used to paying.

So when I ask myself whether it's actually worth it for me to dig and weed and water when I have so much else to do, I have to conclude that it's worth it if only to have a first hand experience of what it takes to produce this food that I so often take for granted.

Braising Mix

I've been sampling the braising mixes offered by different local farmers. A braising mix is a collection of greens, prepped and ready to cook. They vary from season to season and from farm to farm.

Local Roots Farm offers a mix with a lovely variety of colors and textures, and it includes some hardy yellow flowers which could be kale buds. The mix from Full Circle Farm has too many big chunks of curly leaf kale for my taste. But my all time favorite braising mix comes from Willie Greens Farm. They use very young, very tender leaves, in fact, the first time I encountered their mix in a CSA box I thought it was salad and I ate it raw, with dressing. I'd do it again.

The Slowest Market Day of the Year

Yesterday was the slowest market day I've had all year. I was at the Queen Anne Farmers' Market, where I never sell much during the early part of the day, but the farmers who do start off strong there said they were having a great day until it started raining. The rain was steady and persistent. A few hardy customers showed up, but mostly it was just vendors, bartering and trying to stay dry.

Despite the weather, it's curious that this was my slowest day all year. I was doing markets in January and February, and one awful snowy weekend in April. It poured all day on Easter Sunday, and we still saw more customers than we did yesterday.

I think the weather affected yesterday's market so much because there are so many more markets to attend during the summer. If it rains on Thursday for the Queen Anne Market, folks in the neighborhood can go to Magnolia on Saturday. If it rains on Wednesday for Columbia City, they can shop at Madrona on Friday. It's hard to remember precisely, but I don't think lousy summer weather had quite as much of an effect on sales back when there were only a couple of markets.

For myself, I've finally learned to relax on slow days. It's been a great season, but on any particular day, anything can happen.