New Fruit

Today is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year (so technically I shouldn't even be blogging, but we each negotiate our own relationship with the ancient traditions.)

I learned yesterday that it is traditional to eat a "new fruit" on Rosh Hashanah. The person who told me this said that one should eat a fruit that one has never eaten before, but as I investigated further I learned that actually one should eat a fruit that one hasn't tasted in a long time. One source said that this ritual can be "an excuse for scouting out the 'exotic fruit' section of the supermarket, while another said that it was traditional to eat a seasonal fruit that one has not yet tasted this season.

Because this tradition evolved before the existence of supermarkets (let alone their exotic fruit sections), the second explanation made more sense to me. I'm always excited to find links to agricultural traditions, and Rosh Hashanah does take place during harvest time. This also got me thinking about the significance of having a calendar that starts during harvest, rather than during planting season, but I'm hardly qualified to start exploring that fascinating question.

Every source I checked agreed that the "new fruit" tradition evolved as a way to justify the traditional use of a particular blessing, usually reserved for new things, on the second day of a holiday that had been expanded to a second day. Still, I find it rich and suggestive, and I'm going to go find some local plums, because I haven't eaten a plum in a while.

Baby Artichokes

My latest culinary infatuation: baby artichokes. They grow on the same plants as the big ones, but they just don't grow as big. I've prepared them in the past by just cutting them in quarters and pan frying them with olive oil, salt, and pepper, then eating them by just scraping out the tasty middle. But I finally figured out how to make a fresh version of the canned artichoke hearts that have always been one of my favorite foods.

Because baby artichokes have no "choke", or gristle on the inside, all you have to do is trim the tops and bottoms, and peel off the outer leaves. I found that the leaves come off more easily if you trim the tops and bottoms first, and as the leaves in the center become more difficult to remove they also become more tender, so that's the time to stop peeling them.

Once they're trimmed, they need to be boiled for twenty minutes or so in water along with some lemon or vinegar: I use about 2 tablespoons vinegar in a quart of water. Once they're ready I've been cooking them in olive oil along with garlic, salt, basil, and halved cherry tomatoes. Then I eat them with pasta...or by themselves. I do love this season.

Ballard Sustainability Festival

This weekend I've been vending at the 5th annual Sustainable Ballard Festival, at Ballard Commons Park on NW 57th St and 22nd Ave. NE, right across from the Ballard Library.

I'd never done this event before so I had no idea what to expect. I stopped by last year to check it out, but it was pouring so hardly anyone was there.

Yesterday the weather was beautiful and it's supposed to be even nicer today. It wasn't crazy busy, but it was certainly worth doing, although they really should have put the food booths over by the music, where people hang out. All in all, it felt like a work in progress, with some great ideas, some quixotic nonsense, and plenty of good energy.

First Last Markets

Three of the farmers' markets where I vend are ending this week: Wallingford on Wednesday, Queen Anne on Thursday, and Madrona on Friday. The crowds are thinning out considerably, although the customers who do show up are mostly sad about the close of the season.

I understand how they feel but, personally, I'm thrilled. I'm going to cook more for myself, read more, write more, rest more, and get out and visit some farms. And when spring rolls around, I'll be just as excited to start all over again.

An Unruly Crowd

Here's a gem from my archives. There's a Hmong farmers who works a few stalls away from me at the Columbia City Market. A few years ago there was a situation where word seemed to be getting around in his community that he had the best stuff, so folks would line up outside his booth as he was setting up. He started hanging barricade tape along the entrance to his stall to keep people out until sales officially began.When the market managers rang the bell announcing that it was time to start shopping, everyone would rush in at once.

The market hires a rent-a-cop to deter theft. They started posting him by this farmer's booth at the beginning of the market. As you can see, he was about two feet taller than most of the people he was disciplining, but often when I looked over, he had his hands full.

Certified Naturally Grown

I love the idea of alternative organic certification programs for farmers who opt out the government's program. Many of the farmers who choose these options use practices that exceed state and federal standards, but they have better things to do with their money than paying the certification fees, and better things to do with their time than filling out reams of paperwork.

Organic farming isn't just about growing crops without industrial chemicals. It's a whole way of thinking about caring for the land and building the health of the soil, and every organic farmer I know approaches it differently. My friends who farm organically say that most inspectors who oversee their compliance with the government's standards have virtually no understanding of the complexity and nuances involved in this kind of agriculure.

I see this same kind of oversimplification sometimes with my own customers, especially when they ask me, "Is everything organic?" Sometimes they say, "I assume that everything is organic." I don't know of any restaurant or food conccession that uses 100% certified organic ingredients, even the ones that claim to be all organic. There are always asterisks and qualifications and, given the current regulatory situation, that's the way it should be. We need to think beyond government labels and standards because these programs were also designed to meet the needs of big companies who want to make the claim "certified organic" on their cereal boxes.

Local Roots Farm uses a program called Certified Naturally Grown. The organization is based in upstate New York, they ask for a free-will donation, and for the most part they take a farmer's word about the integrity of their practices. Farmers are asked to schedule an inspection within six months of the time they sign up for the program, and these inspections are usually performed by other participating farmers in the region.

You may prefer to have your food grown by an operation that is inspected more regularly, but I think that any farm that's thinking deeply enough about the situation to seek out this kind of alternative is all right with me. Besides, that's the beauty of the farmers' market. If you have concerns about their growing practices you can ask them directly.

Fresh Beans

This is the best time of year for local food. There are still plenty of tomatoes, corn, and chiles around, and we're starting to see some of the great fall stuff, like winter squash and--most exciting--fresh beans.

Fresh beans are not unlike dried beans, but they're fresher and sweeter and they cook in about 20 minutes. Cranberry beans are the most commonly available variety, as well as my favorite. They come in lovely speckled pods which you can shell without too much effort, or you can get them already shelled and save some time.

I got a big bag of cranberry beans from Alm Hill Farm a couple of weeks ago. I ate them in mixed vegetable dishes, with pasta, and in one very tasty pot of chili. Last week I went searching for more, but nobody had any at Columbia City on Wednesday, or Queen Anne on Thursday, or Madrona on Friday. One farmer told me that they were growing some, but they were keeping them for themselves because they were so special.

Alm Hill did have a number of varieties of shelled beans, so I picked up some that were speckled black and tan. Nobody knew their name, in fact, the guy at the Alm Hill booth at Ballard on Sunday said he didn't think they even had a name, just something like B-17. I'm hoping to pick up some of those B-17's this week as well.

Last Fresh Fish of the Season

Yesterday at Ballard the folks at Wilson Fish sold the last fresh salmon and halibut of the year. Their fishing season ended last week, so this was the last catch that they could sell without freezing their product.

They operate off the coast at La Push and, as far as I know, they're the only ones selling fresh, Washington state fish at local farmers' markets.

I hear that this year's salmon season got off to a slow start, but the catch was much better during the past few weeks. We did fare much better in Washington state than in Oregon and California, where all recreational and commercial fishing for Coho salmon was cancelled because of disappearing populations.

Like the fishing season, many of the markets where the Wilson folks sell their fish will be ending soon, but they'll be at the Ballard Market all winter with smoked and frozen product.

A Very Slow Week

All of my markets this week were very slow. I'm sure it had something to do with the change in the weather, but the weather was lovely on Wednesday and the Columbia City Market was slow as well.

I blame it on the turmoil in the financial markets. People are afraid, and on some level they must be figuring that if they don't buy that organic tomato, maybe they'll have more money for retirement.

I have no idea what the future will bring, but I suspect that the next few weeks will continue to be slow, even slower than a normal October. I do think however, that in the long run, the farmers' markets will continue to thrive.

More than any other sphere of commerce, the farmers' markets offer us an alternative economy, one that's based on real value as opposed to the illusory value that generates stock market and real estate bubbles. The money we spend at farmers' markets goes directly to support hard working people who are doing something tangible to make the world a better place, as opposed to financial speculators who make money by trading pieces of paper.

Of course I'm afraid, but I also know I've had some of my best years in business during rough economic climates, so I'm just going to persevere and trust my instincts. I'll weather the next couple of weeks and the next couple of months, and hope that things feel a bit more normal by next spring.

A Mighty Squash

Even though fall is barely underway, Prana Farms already has some formidable squash available. I've seen them bring one spectacular 70 lb. specimen (in the center of the photo) to 3 different markets this week. It makes a gorgeous display, though I wonder if it's worth all the schlepping. I do hope that someone worthy buys it one of these days.

Prana is one of the newer farms around. This is their second year farming, and their first year at the markets. They're strongly focused on biodiversity, using only heirloom seeds and planting no hybrids. It's been exciting to watch their offerings evolve over the course of the season, so to speak.

The Company Grape Vine

There's a grape vine on the side of my shop. It's grapes taste a lot like concords, but they're a lighter purple. It's a blessing to have it there because the grapes are abundant and tasty, and it's a curse because we wind up with smashed grapes everywhere. We store all of our equipment outdoors because the shop is so tiny, and we find grapes on the stoves, signs, tables and propane tanks. We track them inside on our shoes.

This has been a wierd year for grapes, just as it's been difficult for most other local produce. A lot of them went from unripe to overripe much too fast, and there aren't nearly as many as there were last year and the year before.

One day in October a few years ago, I heard a bunch of birds right outside the store singing their heads off. I realized they'd been helping themselves to the fermenting grapes, and that they were drunk. Another time I was leaving the store and I heard something rather large poking around in the grape vine. I looked up and saw a raccoon. I got out of there fast. I'm not messing with a drunk raccoon.

Gardening Regrets

Tomato season is drawing to a close and, with 11 tomato plants, all I've managed to harvest was a few handfuls of cherry tomatoes and one very tasty full size beefsteak. I have dozens of green tomatoes, but the weather is going to turn soon so I don't think they'll have enough time to ripen.

I should have put the plants in the ground earlier. I should have added more compost and organic fertilizer to the soil. I should have weeded more diligently. I should have allowed more space between the plants. I should have picked a spot that was sunny all day, instead of just in the morning. I should have staked the two plants that I put in later than the others.

It's not like I've had to go without tomatoes--or even spectacular tomatoes--because my humble garden didn't produce, in fact, I'm still scrambling to use all of the fine tomatoes I'm bringing home from the farmers' markets. I mostly planted this garden to see if I could keep it up, to have the experience of caring for the plants regularly. On that score I had mixed success: I did, at least, keep up with the watering, and I certainly felt connected with the process, watching the plants develop and start to produce.

I'll try again next year, incorporating some of this year's lessons, and then I'll try again the year after, and the year after that.

Delicatas!

I saw the first local delicata squash of the season at the Ballard Market on Sunday. Delicatas are usually the first winter squash to appear, and they're my personal favorite. They're small so they cook quickly, they peel easily, and they're very, very tasty.

The arrival of winter squash for me is like the spoonful of sugar with the medicine: it sweetens the coming of cooler weather (though the past few weeks have been downright spectacular so it's not like there's much that needs to be sweetened.)

Delicata squash are tender enough that you can peel them, scoop out the seeds, cut them into bite-sized chunks, and toss them into whatever stovetop dish you're making. But I mostly just like to cut them in half, scoop out the seeds, rub them with olive oil, sprinkle them with salt and pepper, and bake them with a bit of water in the pan for 30-40 minutes, until they're soft and ready.

Yum.

The Mud Monster

The Mud Monster was at the Magnolia Farmers' Market on Saturday, entertaining children, giving away stickers, and spreading the word about his mission, which is to get folks involved in projects restoring Puget Sound shoreline. That's muddy work. I did see one small child burst into tears at the sight of him, but I guess you could call that collateral damage.

I've been seeing the Mud Monster at farmers' markets all over town for years. It's a great place to do outreach for this kind of program, because markets attract the right demographic: down to earth folks who care about the future. Still, it must get hot inside that mud suit.

Eat Local Now at U Heights Center

Last night I participated in a dinner at the University Heights Center which was part of an all day event featuring workshops on growing, cooking and preserving local foods.

The turnout was low, presumably because the marketing and outreach should have started much earlier, but the energy was wonderful, the food was lovely, and the weather was spectacular.

Perhaps the most exciting thing for me about this dinner was the fact that the chefs actually got paid for the work we did. I've contributed to other dinners from time to time where the cooks donated their time and the farmers donated their produce, and the proceeds from the event went to support the organization that facilitated it. A farmer friend of mine described the arrangement as "the solution feeding the problem." This time we were trying out a different model. Not only did we get paid, but we were able to support local farmers by using some of that income to buy ingredients.

Of course we didn't earn much because the turnout was so low, but I do think this idea could grow into something more sustainable, so to speak.

And perhaps the best thing about the event...no speeches!

Another Robbery Attempt

Someone smashed the front window of my storefront Wednesday night trying to break in. There was some tough glass there, so they managed to break it, but not fully enough to get through.

Apparently someone had been on a spree: the glass people couldn't even get out there yesterday because they were dealing with 4 other incidents in the neighborhood. I removed the cash from the till before I went home and left a note saying, "No cash on premises. Please don't break our window again. Thank you."

This time I managed not to take it personally. It happens. It's happened before, and it'll probably happen again. (Don't worry, Stanley, okay?)

Silence of the Bees

Everyone should watch this PBS documentary about the disappearing bee populations. I was hearing a lot about the issue a year ago, but very little lately, except from freaked out beekeepers at the farmers' markets. Have we reached a collective fatigue in hearing about it? The problem certainly hasn't gone away.

The film does a great job of bringing home the importance of bees in our agricultural system: ninety important food crops--most of the fruits and vegetables that we eat--rely on them for pollination.

The problem seems to be caused by a combination of a particular virus, along with the general declining health of bee populations, which are already fragile because of pesticides in their environment, as well as a rigorous work schedule which has them trucked all over the country to pollinate industrial crops. The widespread practice of monoculture doesn't help either: bees, like humans, are healthiest when they eat a varied diet, and they suffer when they have to feed on only a single species of plant. It's like you and I eating pasta three meals a day.

Even if scientists figure out a way to beat this particular virus, the bee populations will still be vulnerable to the next pathogen that comes along, until we learn to raise our food in more sensible, sustainable ways.

Claudio Corallo Chocolates on Market St.

There's a new chocolate shop on Market St. in Ballard, dedicated exclusively to the products of Claudio Corallo, an Italian producer who grows beans on the African island of San Principe and processes them on the neighboring island of Sao Tome.

The other day I did a bit of tasting and picked up a little something to take home. I found the texture of the chocolate a bit grainy but I loved the flavor, which was complex and honest, even challenging in a way. With some of my favorite dark chocolates I'm satisfied eating just a little because they perfectly hit the spot. This chocolate left me wanting more because I felt like I hadn't quite understood what I'd tasted.

But more than the chocolate itself, I was really drawn to the shop's business model. It's owned by the folks who handle every step of the process, from growing the beans, to fermenting, processing, shipping and marketing them. These beans may be grown halfway around the world, but this is one short supply chain.

Blueberry Peppers

Alvarez Farms has been selling these lovely small purple peppers that they're calling "blueberry peppers". I couldn't resist bringing some home and playing with them. I roasted them, and they lost their wonderful color, but kept plenty of flavor. Some were hotter than others, in fact, there was quite a range of heat, with occasional specimens that I found downight challenging, although most weren't really hot at all.

I tried to do a bit of internet research on "blueberry peppers," but I found virtally nothing, except for a number of sites selling spicy blueberry jam. Next I looked at listings of chile varieties, which was fun, but didn't tell me much about these particular peppers. I found one picture that looked kind of like them, but they were supposed to be extremely hot, so I'm not sure they were the right ones.

There are over 150 varieties of chiles grown in this country, and the Alvarez guys cultivate about 100 types. Between the common names, the scientific names, and the natural genetic diversity, it makes sense that I couldn't find much on this small, obscure, colorful pepper. But that's all part of the magic.

Tomorrow's Table

I don't get to read much over the summer, but I just got through a fascinating book written by a husband and wife, an organic farmer and a plant geneticist who does biotech research.

She makes a compelling case for the environmental benefits of genetically engineered foods, judiciously cultivated. These crops do, in fact, have the potential to reduce pesticide use and increase agricultural productivity, especially in developing nations where food security is an particularly urgent issue. I found it much easier to hear these arguments from a university researcher who eats a vegetarian diet of mostly organic foods and works with international nonprofit organizations than from marketing materials produced by secretive, sinister multinational corporations.

The book starts off with alternating chapters by the two authors on organic farming and bio-engineering, but most of the subsequent chapters are written by Pamela, the researcher. I couldn't help feeling that Ronald's chapters were mostly there to give her arguments credibility with the sustainable food community. Still, on some level this strategy worked, and I was more willing to accept her point of view because she clearly had a solid grasp of the tenets of organic agriculture.

And yet I wished that she wasn't quite so dismissive of the arguments of anti-GMO activists. Even though there are clearly some potential benefits to cultivating genetically engineered food, much of the research and patenting has been done by companies interested more in financial gain than in the common good. Given the fact that these foods have been introduced to the food supply in sneaky, secretive ways, it's understandable that folks distrust them. This suspicion isn't just an irrational fear of the unknown, it's a reasonable reaction to a powerful new technology in the hands of the folks who brought us toxic pesticides, high fructose corn syrup, artificial trans fats, chemical preservatives...

Tilth Harvest Fair

We had a wonderful day at the Tilth Harvest Fair yesterday, in fact, it was the most successful day I've ever had, in 12 years of vending.

When I first started doing the Harvest Fair 9 years ago, it was a very busy event, with 7 or 8 different hot food vendors, lots of produce, and chef demos. Five years later it was a much smaller event, and we were the only food vendor. It was still a very good event for us, but our sales didn't change much, probably because it wasn't as well attended.

Someone who works with the organization told me that they lost a key outreach person around that time, which might explain the smaller turnout. I figured the lower attendance was because, when the Harvest Fair started 30 years ago, it was the only all-organic produce sale in town, and until relatively recently there still wasn't much competition. But now there are farmers' markets with plenty of organic produce nearly every day of the week. During the time that I've been doing the Harvest Fair, seven new markets have opened in different Seattle neighborhoods.

It seemed like the Tilth folks really went out of their way this year to set their event apart. Sure, it's a produce sale and there are produce sales nealy every day of the week, but this was a lovely party, with music and kids' activities and educational events, set in a great park, celebrating sustainable food.

Queen Anne Market's New Location

The Queen Anne Farmers' Market moved half a block south yesterday, to the walkway connecting 1st Ave. W. and 2nd Ave. W, just south of the community center and north of the soccer field.

I'd been dreading the move, having heard horror stories from vendors about their experiences last year. From what I heard, customers somehow couldn't find their way to a spot half a block south of the summer location, and the loading situation was a nightmare because you couldn't drive right up to your spot.

I got lucky, and was assigned a booth space close to the street, so I didn't have to carry my stuff very far. Supposedly my end was the slower end last year, but there was plenty of traffic, in fact, I had the best day I'd had in months at that market.

The area was also grassy, so it was a pleasant and sunny and much easier to stand on all day than concrete or asphalt.

Competition

This coming Saturday we'll be vending at the Tilth Harvest Fair, a lovely event celebrating organic produce. It will be our ninth year doing this event.

The first four years we sold there, they had a number of other food vendors, but the past four years we've been the only ones. It's a great position to be in: the only food vendor at an event that draws exactly the kind of people who enjoy our food.

This year there's going to be another food vendor, a catering company that did the event the first few years, but dropped out a few years ago. The organizers are happy about it, but I'm not thrilled. I'd rather not share.

After twelve years of vending at farmers' markets and special events, I'm still not certain whether having competition always negatively affects my sales. The Ballard Market, our best market, has the most competition. Last year at Columbia City there was no competition, and this year Green Go is there, but we're having a better year this year than we did last year. There are so many variables, and sometimes having a choice of what to eat can draw more people to an event, or make them more inclined to stay and have lunch.

The weather is supposed to be perfect on Saturday, and last year at this event, we weren't able to feed everyone (we ran out of food.) This year we'll bring more, and I'm trying to maintain a good attitude, telling myself that that there will be enough business to go around. Still, I'd rather not share.

Why Chiles Are Hot

A study published last month by researchers at the UW offered a fascinating explanation as to why chiles evolved that wonderful spicy flavor. Apparently it's a defense mechanism against a fungus that develops when insects puncture the skins of the chiles. The microorganisms that create the fungus are sensitive to capsaicin, the chemical that creates the heat, and are more likely to avoid plants that contain it. Birds, which eat the fruit and spread its seeds, don't taste the heat.

It occurred to me that the heat ended up having an additional evolutionary function, one which the article didn't mention. Since humans enjoy this flavor, we've propagated the seeds all over the world, further improving the plant's odds for survival.

Tomatillos

Tomatillos have been showing up at local market stands the past few weeks. They're not unripe tomatoes, but rather cousins of tomatoes with a papery outer skin. They make a wonderful salsa, but it takes some patience because you have to peel the papery outer skin off of each tomatillo.

Once you've peeled them, you preheat your oven to about 4oo. You'll also want to use some mild chiles (anaheims or poblanos) and some hot ones, if you like it hot. Rub the tomatillos and the chiles with enough olive oil to coat them, then roast them for 45 minutes to an hour, until their droopy but not crunchy.

When they're cool enough to handle, take the stems off the chiles, and puree the roasted tomatoes and roasted chiles along with some cilantro, red wine vinegar, and salt.

It's great stuff, but I only make it once a year, because of the painstaking labor of peeling the skins off the tomatillos. Most of the year I use canned tomatillos for the salsa at my booth and at my store. It's very tasty, but once you taste the real thing, it's hard to go back.

ATM's at the Markets

A number of local markets have begun bringing in mobile cash machines for customers to use. The markets don't make any money from the fees but their logic is that, because not all vendors accept credit cards, having the ATM's on site will facilitate spending.

I realize I'm atypical, but I've never used an ATM in my life. I also rarely use credit cards for day-to-day purchases. I tried accepting credit cards one year at my booth, but I found that it took 3 times as long to process a transaction (despite what the commercials say) and people kept wanting to use cards for $1.50 and $2 purchases.

I'm not sure whether the cash machines at the markets have actually helped my sales, but I do find them distasteful. They feel like a symptom of the kind of thinking that created the industrialized food system in the first place: offering convenience in ways that aren't in our best interests when you consider the long term and the big picture.

I want people to spend their money at the market instead of the mall, but I don't want them to spend their money at the market in the same thoughtless, reckless way they spend it at the mall.