Next time you're shopping at your local supermarket try this: ask the produce clerk when the peaches were picked. Or, if they're not labeled, ask what variety they are, or what type of sprays were used, if any. Query your butcher about what breed of cow that beautifully displayed steak is from or what it was fed when it was still on the hoof; corn? grass? a combination of both? Did it come from a feed lot or direct from the ranch? I'm guessing a shrug of the shoulders would be about all the information you would be likely to garner.
One of the market chains in our area has a wine expert that hosts tastings several times a week, promoting wines that are on sale and answering questions potential consumers may have. It's a great idea, plus shopping is much more fun after a few tastings.
I haven't seen that same effort to educate and inform in the meat, produce, or dairy aisle of any of the chains where I still shop. You may rightfully ask, of course, "who cares?" The answer is - I do and I'm not alone. It's no longer just members of some fringe group of granola eating fanatics who want to know where their food is coming from, under what conditions it was grown and processed, and what's in it ( or not in it). With recent incidents such as the salmonella outbreak from one of the mega egg factories in the Midwest, more and more 'average' consumers are becoming concerned about the safety and quality their food.
Enter the Farmer's Market, a place where farmers, ranchers, artisan bakers and cheese makers, et al. welcome questions about the specifics of their food. Few offer certified organic meat/produce/dairy, but most use best practices for organic farming, though it's not a prerequisite for selling at the market. Organic focus or not, what you find are people who enjoy what they do and are proud of what they produce. These are artisans who study their craft, not cogs in a food factory where a chicken or cow become merely widgets to be manipulated to increase the quantity and speed of production. Some producers showcase their harvests by cooking up samples and offering recipes. Looking for chanterelles or lobster mushrooms and recipes? There's a booth for that. Want grass fed beef, free range chicken and pasture raised hogs? There are booths for those. Want purple carrots or cauliflower, candy striped beets or a variety of sourdough bread? No problem.
The beauty and genius of the Farmer's Market is that it represents capitalism at its finest - the marriage of producer and consumer without the middleman. A bond of trust begins to form when the farmer is no longer a faceless entity on a label and the consumer moves beyond being a marketing statistic.
To reduce the Farmer's Market that I frequent to a glorified fruit and vegetable stand would not capture its essence. Market is where I eat Saturday breakfast (usually a burrito with red sauce{hot} and coffee), listen to music, people watch, dog watch, meet friends, and get my weekly dose of community. Patrons to the market are a cross section of humanity in regards to race, age, ethnicity, political disposition ... It is a weekly celebration of what the community is at its best.
We're fortunate that our market runs longer than those in other parts of the country - from mid April to about the third week of November. If this year is like last years final Saturday market, I'll be sitting alone on a bench in the rain, coffee in hand, moisture running down my cheeks, saddened by the Market's impending dormancy but eagerly anticipating the Spring rebirth of this weekly celebration of agriculture and community.
The Farmer's Market - it's where I want to take The Lost Road Apiary and Farm when it grows up.
Enter the Farmer's Market, a place where farmers, ranchers, artisan bakers and cheese makers, et al. welcome questions about the specifics of their food. Few offer certified organic meat/produce/dairy, but most use best practices for organic farming, though it's not a prerequisite for selling at the market. Organic focus or not, what you find are people who enjoy what they do and are proud of what they produce. These are artisans who study their craft, not cogs in a food factory where a chicken or cow become merely widgets to be manipulated to increase the quantity and speed of production. Some producers showcase their harvests by cooking up samples and offering recipes. Looking for chanterelles or lobster mushrooms and recipes? There's a booth for that. Want grass fed beef, free range chicken and pasture raised hogs? There are booths for those. Want purple carrots or cauliflower, candy striped beets or a variety of sourdough bread? No problem.
The beauty and genius of the Farmer's Market is that it represents capitalism at its finest - the marriage of producer and consumer without the middleman. A bond of trust begins to form when the farmer is no longer a faceless entity on a label and the consumer moves beyond being a marketing statistic.
We're fortunate that our market runs longer than those in other parts of the country - from mid April to about the third week of November. If this year is like last years final Saturday market, I'll be sitting alone on a bench in the rain, coffee in hand, moisture running down my cheeks, saddened by the Market's impending dormancy but eagerly anticipating the Spring rebirth of this weekly celebration of agriculture and community.
The Farmer's Market - it's where I want to take The Lost Road Apiary and Farm when it grows up.
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