Animal, Vegetable, Miracle_ A Year of Food Life - Barbara Kingsolver [20]
The cold snap was worrisome for our local orchards, since apple and peach trees had broken dormancy and blossomed out during the last two sunny weeks. They could lose the year’s productivity to this one cold spell. If anybody was going to be selling fruit down at the farmers’ market today, in the middle of blasted dogwood winter, I’d be a monkey’s uncle. Nevertheless, we bundled up and headed on down. We have friends who sell at the market, some of whom we hadn’t seen in a while. On a day like this they’d need our moral support.
It was a grim sight that met us in the parking lot. Some of the vendors huddled under awnings that snapped and flapped like the sails of sinking ships in a storm. Others had folded up their tents and stood over their boxes with arms crossed and their backs to the mean wind. Only eight vendors had turned out today, surely the bravest agricultural souls in the county, and not another customer in sight. What would they have this early, anyway—the last of last year’s shriveled potatoes?
Hounded by the dogs of Oh sure, Mom, I made up my mind to buy something from everyone here, just to encourage them to come back next week. My farm advocacy work for the day.
We got out of the car, pulled our hoods over our ears, and started our tour of duty. Every vendor had something better than shriveled potatoes. Charlie, a wiry old man who is the self-appointed comedian of our market, was short on cheer under the circumstances but did have green onions. We’d run out of our storage onions from last year’s garden, and missed them. At least half our family’s favorite dishes begin with a drizzle of oil in the skillet, a handful of chopped onions and garlic tossed in. We bought six fat bundles of Charlie’s onions. This early in the season their white bulbs were only the size of my thumb, but when chopped with their green tops they would make spicy soups and salads.
From Mike and Paul, at the next two booths, we bought turkey sausage and lamb. At the next, the piles of baby lettuce looked to me like money in the bank, and I bagged them. Fruitless though our lives might be, we would have great salads this week, with chunks of sausage, hardboiled eggs, and experimental vinaigrettes. Next down the line we found black walnuts, painstakingly shelled out by hand. Walnut is a common wild tree here, but almost nobody goes to the trouble to shell them—nowhere but at the farmers’ market would you find local nuts like these. The vendor offered us a sample, and we were surprised by the resinous sweetness. They would be good in our oatmeal and a spectacular addition to Steven’s whole-grain bread.
How to Find a Farmer
Whether you’re a rural or urban consumer, it’s easier than ever to find local or regionally grown food. Following the passage of the Farmer-to-Consumer Direct Marketing Act of 1976, active U.S. farmers’ markets have grown from about 350 to well over 3,500 today, or an average of 75 per state. Most urban areas host farmers’ markets from spring until fall; some are open all year. Market rules usually guarantee that the products are fresh and local.
Farmers’ markets are also a good place to ask about direct sales from farmer to consumer. Options include roadside stands, U-pick operations, artisanal products, buyers’ clubs, and community-supported agriculture (CSA). In a typical CSA, subscribers pay a producer in early spring and then receive a weekly share of the produce all season long.
Don’t be afraid to ask producers what else they might have available. Someone selling eggs on Saturday morning probably has eggs the rest of the week. Farmers can also tell you which local stores may sell their eggs, meat, or produce. Many grocery and health-food stores now stock local foods, as more consumers ask. Locally owned stores are better bets, since chains rely on regional distribution. And don’t overlook small ethnic