Frozen Greens

Last weekend there were no greens for us to buy at the farmers' market because the weather had been so cold. I assumed that meant there would be none for a while because we'd have to wait for the next growing cycle, but that wasn't the case. There were plenty of greens available this past weekend.

It turns out that if you pick greens while they're frozen they turn stringy and slimy, but if you wait for them to thaw without harvesting them, they'll be fine. Last year there were no greens after the long, hard frost in December, but this year the frost didn't last as long so the greens survived.

This is good news. I'll be enjoying the greens in my garden for another while, as well.

A Day on Broadway

Yesterday I worked the Broadway Sunday Farmers' Market for the first time. It's a seasonal market, but it has a longer season than any other seasonal market in town, running from May until late December.

I tried to get into this market earlier this fall, but it didn't work out. Then the manager called me last week and asked if I wanted to give it a try for the last 2 weeks of the season. I have to get a $226 health permit even if I'm only vending for 2 weeks, and technically I should also pay a $50 late fee if I submit the application less than 2 weeks before the event starts. I nearly said no because I couldn't imagine making any money having to pay these fees, but I decided to give it a try anyway. I called the health department and they agreed to at least waive the late fees, and I found myself thinking that not every business decision has to be directly about money. I wanted to get a sense of this market because I've heard good things about it from other vendors. I also figure that at this point in the season if I even break even on something it's worth doing because it creates extra work, and all of my employees want more work.

I loved the market, though I barely broke even. It was a freak show, in the best possible way. Great people watching. It was also very, very cold, at least for Seattle, and I do love the whole winter farmers' market phenomenon. I love the fact that there are enough of us vendors crazy and committed enough to get out there are create a market, even when it's hard to be outside. And I love the rapport that develops between the customers and the vendors. We're all so grateful to each other. They're grateful that we continue to show up even though our sales are obviously slow and it's hard to stand outside on that kind of day, and we're grateful to them for coming and shopping even though they have so much more to choose from this time of year at the supermarket.

I want to figure out a way to do this market next year. They need prepared food, and I feel I'll do well there. I'm already committed to doing 3 other markets on Sundays. My business has never done 4 markets in a day, not even for special events, and I don't want to buy another vehicle, although I am willing to buy some extra equipment. I'm going to see what I can do to figure out a way. I've got some ideas.

Making Soil

This is my friends' farm in upstate New York, about an hour west of Albany, where I spent some time last week. They have about 80 acres, and they're growing food on a few of them, and hay on 50 more. There's also woods, a house, a barn, and areas for goats and fowl.

The soil there is tired. They knew that when they bought the place, and they've got a long term plan for making it better. They're thinking in terms of 20 years, and they started 7 years ago. They're using hay as fertilizer, among other things. They grow 50 acres of hay, and it's still barely enough to nourish 2 acres of tired ground. But it's a long term plan.

I asked why the soil was so depleted, and they said it was from long term, intensive use. The farmers I know in Washington state are working plots that have been farmed for at most 150 years. This land in upstate New York has been farmed for at least 300 years.

I read recently about a period in the history of upstate New York, lasting up until about 1840, when practically all of the farmland in some areas was owned by a small number of wealthy families who had inherited a virtually feudal arrangement from their Dutch ancestors. Tenants paid exorbitant rent and were expected to perform additional duties for the landlord, such as working in their fields. It was nearly impossible for the average farming family to get far enough ahead to buy land.

I wondered if this history had something to do with the land's exhaustion. Later in the week I visited family in southern Vermont, which has a considerably more vibrant agricultural landscape. Vermont doesn't have the same history of feudal sharecropping, so the land isn't as tired.

When my friends first bought their farm, they thought that at some point they might grow food and sell it. As they've gotten settled and worked through several growing seasons they've become convinced that farming for a living doesn't make sense for them financially. They're growing food mainly to meet their own needs, and they're building the soil.

I'm can't imagine that this long term approach to building the soil is actually going to make sense financially, either. But that's a problem with the financial calculus rather than with the process of building the soil.

How the Other Half Thinks

I get Google Alerts on topics related to sustainability and local food. Recently they sent me a link to this fascinating piece from a blog called "Free Republic". The post is called "No Cranberries in Texas? No Lobster in Colorado? Blame the Locavores." Apparently the local foods community is trying to rob the rest of the world of the right to choose what to eat. Make sure to check out the comments, where the right wing crowd ponder the absurdity of eating locally. No wonder it's so hard to pass a health care bill.