Enough

The past few weeks it's hit home for me that my sales this summer aren't going to be quite what I had hoped they would be. Most markets are down about 10% compared to this period last year, though Lake City is down by 50%. Wallingford is about the same as it was a year ago, and Queen Anne and the U District are up a bit, for reasons that have mainly to do with location and visibility. But my overriding realization is that, even though my sales won't meet my projections, there will be enough. If things continue as they have been, I'll still be able to cover my expenses, support myself, pay my taxes, save a bit for the winter, and pay off what I borrowed to move into my new kitchen. And that's what really counts.

Apricot Season

This is Jerry Piptone. He grows apricots (and peaches and plums, and garlic, and tomatoes.) His wife sews him some great shirts using fabric with produce motifs. This one took the cake.

Berry Conduit

I love strawberries and raspberries but I can't eat them. I get a feeling in the pit of my stomach like I've just swallowed a brick. I used to be able to eat just a couple at a time, but two years ago I ate a single strawberry--the first of the season--and I regretted it, so I don't even try anymore.

The berry vendors at the market tend to trade very generously because their product is so perishable-if they don't sell it today, they can't sell it tomorrow. And I try to never turn down a trade with another vendor so it's not uncommon for me to find myself with a flat of berries that need a home.

When I had my storefront I used to hand them out to to worthy customers. This year I'll be leaving them on my friends' porches. It's a rough job, but someone has to do it.

Goodies Mediterranean Market

I stumbled across a wonderful new store the other day. Goodies Mediterranean Market is located on Lake City Way just north of 135th St., on the west side of the street. When I drove by it struck me as such an incongruous place for a little grocery that I had to stop and check it out.

I was impressed by the selection of spices and Middle Eastern products, and the produce prices were extremely reasonable. And there was some interesting stuff I'd never seen anywhere else before, like freekeh--a cereal made from young wheat--and green almonds. And I picked up half a gallon of Lebanese olive oil (I love Lebanese olive oil) for under $20.

Opening Day at the Mercer Island Farmers' Market

Sunday was opening day at the Mercer Island Farmers' Market, which just started up in August of last summer. The organizers had called me repeatedly about vending there last year, but I was skeptical about a market starting so late in the season and, besides, I had my hands full with Ballard on Sundays. But once the market did finally start, I heard from various vendors that it was one of the best markets around and I decided to figure out a way to do it this year, whatever it took. Fortunately, my business is able to produce and store a lot more product in our new kitchen than we could in our old space.

From the moment we pulled up this past Sunday folks kept telling us how happy they were to have us there. It made me realize that the independent markets have a very different feeling from the ones that are run by organizations running multiple events in various parts of town. People have more of a pride of ownership at these independent markets. I suspect we'll be seeing more of them over the next few years, especially now that the mayor has dramatically reduced the street use fees for farmers' markets. (Now we just have to get the health department to reduce their fees.)

The Mercer Island Market is on a street adjacent to a park, which gives folks a place to linger. And many did, in fact, stay for a while even though the day was punctuated with thunder and lightning.

Bottom Feeding

I call my purchasing strategy "bottom feeding," after those resourceful sea creatures that live on whatever filters down to the ocean floor. Like them, I try to make use of foods that a more wasteful group of consumers treat as surplus. I let the farmers at the markets where I vend know that I'll be happy to buy items that they have left over at the end of the day, perfectly good produce that would otherwise end up on the compost pile because there's a new batch ready to be harvested. I name the price, and I'll take just about anything they're willing to sell to me at that price.

It can be tricky to approach people to propose this type of arrangement. It's especially important to let them know that I know that their produce is worth more than I'm willing to pay. But even though I'm not willing to pay much, I try to do everything I can to make it worth their while. I've bought cases of greens even when I'm not sure how I'm going to fit them in my cooler, and I'm often willing to take a risk on oddball stuff, like the time I came back from a market with 3 cases of purple cauliflower.

I had one farmer tell me that he's selling more at the markets because of this arrangement. He used to think in terms of trying to sell out, so nothing would be wasted. As a result his table would look empty during the last hour, and he wouldn't sell much. Now he keeps his table fully stocked for the duration of the market, customers buy more because it looks better, and he sells the leftovers to me.

It takes faith to be a bottom feeder. You have to be willing to work with whatever comes your way, and have backup systems for the occasions when you can't get as much as you need. But I find it a rewarding stategy not just from a financial standpoint, but also because I'm doing my part to lessen the unconscionable amount of food that gets wasted in this country.

My Dream

The other night I dreamed that I was in a house that was burning. The fire started in the basement and was working its way up. I was with a bunch of people and there was no way we could get out in time. Someone suggested that I go down to the kitchen and put together a nice cheese plate: if we weren't going to make it, we might as well enjoy some cheese. I was arranging the cheese on the plate when the fire burst through the floorboards. Until that moment I hadn't felt the least bit afraid, and I quickly woke up.

I had the dream after a week with quite a few slow farmers' markets. There were also some busy ones and the week, overall, has really been okay. But the number of slow markets has made me realize that the farmers' markets really have been affected by the lousy economy. I was in denial about this for some time. It was easy to be, because the Ballard winter market actually has been growing, and until the summer season started it was one of my main indicators. I'm fortunate enough to vend at so many markets that there are enough bright spots to mostly balance the dark spots, but it's hard to deny that folks are thinking twice about spending money, even on good food.

I think the fire represented the current economic system. The cheese plate wasn't quite an antidote, but it was a reminder that in the face of everything, there's still so much great food to enjoy.

Opening Day at the NEW Queen Anne Farmers' Market

Thursday was opening day at the Queen Anne Farmers' market at its new location, with its new management. I woke up that morning feeling really excited about it, and it was obvious from the moment I arrived that the sentiment was shared by the management, the volunteers, the customers and the vendors.

There was some question a while back about whether the market was even going to happen this year. To give a bit of background: the Queen Anne Neighbors for Responsible Growth decided a few years back that they wanted a farmers' market in their neighborhood, so they contracted with a local organization that starts and runs a number of markets. The event was very busy on opening day, but it sagged the second year, a phenomenon that's actually quite common.

This year the schoolyard where the market had been held was no longer available. The market organization favored a site in another schoolyard, which had plenty of space but was a bit off the beaten path. The neighborhood group wanted to close a street adjacent to the neighborhood's main arterial. It would be a much smaller area, but more centrally located. Unable to agree, the two groups parted ways and the neighborhood organization decided to go ahead with the project on their own.

There's a tremendous amount of work involved in setting up a farmers' market, and it really helps to have some experience with the permitting and red tape, as well as established relationships with vendors. These guys took it all on, learning as they went along, with enthusiasm, thoroughness, and humility.

Opening day was great. It felt like a block party, with neighbors meeting neighbors and stopping to spend time. I'm so glad to be a part of this.

Catching Fire: How Cooking Made us Human

As an unabashed food history nerd I was excited to hear about this new book, which makes the argument that the domestication of fire was the impetus behind many important evolutionary developments.

We have evidence of the widespread use of fire by humans starting about half a million years ago, but Wrangham argues that it must have started much earlier than that, based on the fact that human stomachs and teeth began shrinking between a million and a half and two million years ago, evidence that human diets became softer and easier to digest.

I was fascinated by his discussion of how long our simian cousins spend chewing: some as much as six hours a day. This amount of processing is necessary in order to break down the tough, raw foods available in jungles and savannahs into useful nutrients. The act of cooking dramatically lessened the amount of time we had to spend chewing, freeing us up for all kinds of other activities, like music, hunting and philosophy.

I did have trouble with his discussion of cooking and gender roles. I've never heard a satisfactory explanation of the almost universal division of labor that delegates cooking to women and hunting to men: it seems nearly impossible to me to come up with a satisfactory hypothesis when we're filtering information through our own experience and social conventions. But Wrangham's theory seemed especially silly: he believes that women were particularly vulnerable while they were cooking, so they needed men to protect them. Hence the development of human pair bonding.

I think it's more likely that the men were being annoying and getting in the way, and the women sent them out to hunt, knowing the activity would get them out of the homestead for an extended period of time.

The Bellevue Farmers Market Cookbook

The wonderful folks at the Bellevue Farmers' Market gave each of the vendors a copy of their cookbook a few weeks back. I was impressed. It has some truly appealing recipes, like Apricot Cheesecake, and Risotto with Spinach and Wild Mushrooms, as well as background and history about the market, and vendor profiles.

There are so many ways to organize a cookbook about local foods. My own cookbook consists of seasonal recipes using fruits and vegetables that grow in most temperate climates. My friend Debra Daniels-Zeller's forthcoming book showcases farms from all over the Pacific Northwest. The Bellevue Farmers' Market Cookbook has a narrower focus--the produce and farmers from one particular market--but it turns into a lens for something much broader, tying together the many elements that go into creating a successful market, and celebrating the entire package.

Seed to Sol Farm

My neighbors at the Meadowbrook Farmers Market run Sol to Seed Farm, one of the newer farms in the area. It's always exciting to see new farms sprouting up: the hurdles are formidable, and it seems to take nothing short of a miracle and a leap of faith to make it happen.

Matt and Deanna started their farm last year on a parcel of land they bought from Jubilee Farm, in fact, it was their experience doing work share for Jubilee's CSA that made them realize that they wanted to get into farming.

They're currently vending at the Issaquah and Meadowbrook markets, and their own CSA is already full for the year. Their produce is beautiful, especially the kohlrabi. I look forward to crossing paths with them over time, and watching their enterprise evolve.

Week 3 of the Meadowbrook Farmers' Market

1. I'm curious to see how the Meadowbrook Farmers' Market pans out over time. The first week exceeded my expectations (which were low,) but the second week was slow. I stopped by today and sales seemed pretty steady, but I have yet to take a look at the tell tale till.

Rebekah from "Eat all About It" wrote a post this week addressing the question of whether or not the market for farmers' markets in Seattle is saturated. (I think not.) Several readers commented that the Meadowbrook Market was evidence that there are, in fact, too many markets in town. I was sad to read this, and I hope that enough folks in the neighborhood can get past the fact that there really aren't many vendors there, and come around to realize that a new market--especially an independent market on a residential street, like this one--takes time to get established, and we all have more to gain by focusing on what this market has, rather than on what it doesn't have. I also hope that enough vendors are willing to give it a chance long enough for it to get on its feet.

I don't live especially close to the Meadowbrook Farmers' Market, but I do live in a neighbohood where--like the area right near that market--there are no grocery stores nearby. I would love to have a destination like this right near my house, someplace with quality local products that I could walk to and shop, even if the selection is limited. If we want to build a strong local food economy, we have to be willing to nurture even small projects like this one, especially when we're lucky enough to have them right near our homes.

Opening Bell

Many markets have opening bells to let vendors and customers know that it's time to start selling, but the bell at the Bellevue Farmers' Market is different. For one thing, they ring it at a faster tempo, with particular enthusiasm. And, unlike any other market where I've ever vended, they don't let any customers come in until after they've rang the bell. Folks congregate just outside--usually forty or fifty people--and they let them in all at once as the bell is being rung. It feels different from the events where folks mill around while we're trying to set up. This feels almost like a race, with everyone leaping into action at once in response to a given cue.

Bellevue also has something else I've never seen at another market: a closing bell.

Organic Violations

I was disappointed this week to read that Madison Market, one of my favorite places to shop, has been disciplined by the National Organic Program for inadequate record keeping and insufficient documentation about their suppliers' production practices. I wasn't disappointed that they had betrayed my trust by not adequately vetting their products. I'm already convinced of their integrity. I was disappointed because it's a shame to see them struggling to meet standards that may not involve the best use of their time and resources.

I owned a wholesale company many years ago selling prepared food to natural foods stores and university cafeterias. When I first approached the other coop chain in town, their buyer told me that they didn't like to deal with small companies because it created too much work for the bookkeeping department. But when I brought my products to Central Coop, the previous incarnation of Madison Market, they were downright eager to work with a fledgeling local company. When the other coop chain features local farmers, they always work with the biggest regional growers. When Madison Market features local farmers, they also showcase small-scale operations.

I've been shopping at Madison Market fairly often the past few months because it's so close to my new kitchen. I love going in there, and I feel like they really walk the walk. They've got great products, including plenty of unusual stuff, and their organic produce prices are wonderfully fair. It actually feels like a coop.

I'm not troubled by their difficulty keeping up with their paperwork for the same reasons that I choose to shop at farmers' markets. Personally, I'd rather buy an item that hasn't been certified organic directly from the person who grew it, than an organic item from a chain store. I often don't keep up on my paperwork, either.

(By the way, the info about their noncompliance came from the Sustainable Food News. I'm linking to it, even though you can't actually read the article without a subscription. You can get a free 2 week trial subscription, though. It's a great resource, but pricey. Not pricey in the sense that it's not worth what they charge, but pricey in the sense that it's more than most people are going to spend for this kind of information.)

Kale Volunteer

There's a volunteer Red Russian kale plant in my garden. I have no idea how it got there: my best guess is that there may have been a seed in some compost that I used. But even that doesn't quite make sense when I try to reconcile the timing of when it first appeared.

Even though it's a mature plant now, I'm a little scared to harvest it and eat it. (What if I'm wrong and it's not really Red Russian kale, but something else that looks exactly like it and happens to be toxic?)

It started to bolt during the recent heat wave. Better act quickly, if I'm going to enjoy it.

Franchising

A few months ago a guy who'd been working with Zane and Zack, my neighbors at the Ballard Farmers Market, approached me and asked if I'd be interested in a franchise-type arrangement where he'd operate a booth a lot like mine at a few markets north of Seattle.

I was intrigued by the idea and agreed to mull it over. I've long thought that my concept would be easy to franchise because it's easy to replicate: that's how we're able to do multiple events on the same day.

I was a bit skeptical about whether he'd really follow through with it once he started looking into permits and jumping through hoops, but I agreed to work with him, if only to get some experience with this type of arrangement. I said I didn't think it would be kosher for him to use the name "Patty Pan Grill" when I'm already using it, so he's calling his operation "Mike's Patty Pan Grill". He'll buy the prepped veggies, tamales, and lemonade concentrate from me and carry his own insurance.

He called me this past week and told me he was ready. Today I went down to the Everett Farmers' Market, where he was setting up his stand for the very first time. I was impressed at how well he'd covered his bases, especially considering the fact that he has virtually no foodservice experience. I taught him and his brother how to cook the menu items and took off after a few hours, once I was confident that they had it down.

I'd never been to the Everett market before, so I was grateful for an excuse to see it. It's right on the water (which must be stressful on windy days, but was lovely today.) I saw some vendors I know, and many who were unfamiliar to me. I think it'll be a good place for him to get started. Good luck Mike!

A Nation of Farmers

1. I was curious about Sharon Astyk and Aaron Newton's new book A Nation of Farmers because my recent foray into the world of gardening has left me curious about the potential of many small-scale efforts like my own to change the way we eat.

According to these folks, a revolution in the way we grow and source our food is not only possible, but downright necessary. The limited supply of oil, growing global population, and ailing economy are all pushing us towards a new--or old--approach to food production, one which relies less on fossil fuels and more on human energy.

Foot for foot organic, small-scale agriculture is considerably more productive than farming large tracts of land using energy intensive machinery. And there is plenty of unused land available, from city lots to suburban lawns. Newton and Astyk make a compelling case for each and every one of us getting out there, digging some ground, and building skills that will serve us well in the future.

Having just read Joel Berg's How Hungry is America, I repeatedly found myself internally objecting that spare ground for gardening is a middle class luxury, and many people don't have the time and space to make it happen. The authors acknowledge this, at the same time that they reference all the successful projects in recent years bringing urban farming to poor inner city neighborhoods. Both perspectives need to be heard: it's not easy to grow food if you don't have the resources, but disadvantaged people have been contributing to meeting their own basic needs by growing their own food for as long as there have been inequities in social status and income level.

Compost

Each week my business pays Cedar Grove to haul away our kitchen scraps and then, when I need to fertilize my garden, I go to the store and buy Cedar Grove compost that could very well contain remains of the same vegetables that I paid them to haul away. The irony isn't lost on me, but I don't feel ready to start composting my own food, especially not on the scale that I'd have to for a commercial kitchen. At least I'm buying compost from a local company, and not compost that's been trucked in from California.