Don't Fight the Farmer's Market

Everyone has their inane idiosyncrasies. Mine is that I work out 5 or 6 days a week, working out with a trainer, running, spinning, yoga, etc...yet for some reason, it seems like a giant task to walk half a mile to the Farmer's Market on Sundays. It's just so easy to stay in my plush, warm robe, sip on my coffee, and read my New York Times Magazine while my husband reads the business section...fry up a couple of eggs with some toast, and just lounge. I reminded myself, however, on Sunday, that I live in beautiful sunny Santa Monica, that I have abundant produce all year long, and that I believe I have a responsibility to support local farmers, especially in the current economy. These farmers drive out from their farms every Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday in order to provide us with organic, nutrient-rich fruits and vegetables--and if it wasn't for the people who actually come out and shop at these markets, we would eventually not have any access to foods that have been farmed sustainably and eco-consciously.

So, I put on my black khakis and a red ruffly tank, threw on my little velour coat, and started walking down Main Street. There's a great energy on the street on Sundays--people out having brunch, getting manis and pedis, riding their beach cruisers, getting a steaming cup of coffee...the walk itself is pretty pleasant. But as I arrived, my experience surprised me. I honestly hadn't been there in a while, and so seeing it all again took me back to the first time I visited the Santa Monica Farmer's Market...

It was six years ago in May...I had just moved to Santa Monica from New York City, and was loving waking up to the sound of the waves of the ocean instead of sirens off the Brooklyn Bridge. My boyfriend and I (husband now!) just moved in together, and I was definitely "nesting." I was constantly looking through design magazines, trying to come up with inexpensive ways to decorate our new apartment, and wanting badly to create a more "homey" atmosphere. I thought that a home-cooked Sunday meal might contribute to that feeling. So, the first Sunday that we were there, I ventured across the street (we moved about a half mile South since then) to the market. I couldn't believe my good fortune. Spring's abundance in California was awe-inspiring. I tasted a tangelo, not having heard of one before, and when I bit into it, its tangy, sweet juices burst into my mouth. I bought a bag full. And then there were the creamy avocados, the freshly-picked lettuces, the farm-fresh eggs, the right-off-the-tree walnuts...I ended up coming home with more food than we could eat in two weeks...and with a huge smile on my face. From then on, we visited the farmer's market every week, indulging in omelets the size of the plate, baby coconuts hacked open right there for the slurping, and the biggest, fluffiest croissants I have ever seen in the States. Every week I'd say, "I love California" as I watched the children on the pony rides and the hipster parents with their long-haired hipster toddlers, eating raw food and listening to the live music.

And then I moved. Maybe 8 blocks away! And I, well, sort of...stopped! I know, it's so pathetic I am considering not even posting this confession...but after my trip yesterday, I am committed to reinstating these trips as a weekly ritual. I use the word "ritual" because it is impossible to visit the market and not experience at least some sense of gratitude for the experience of living here, of the cornucopia of edibles to choose from, and for the community that values the market at least as much as I do.

At the market yesterday, I bought two kinds of fresh pesto--one your typical basil with pine nut, and one pistachio. I will have a ball inventing ways to use them. (One of my favorites is to combine it with a little bit of champagne vinegar for a knock-out and super-easy salad dressing). Then I made my way to the meat guy, and bought a frozen sirloin from him. I'd heard from a friend that their meats are really delicious, and I feel good buying meat from cows that were organic, free-range, and grass-fed. I also bought a pomegranate from him...odd selection, I know. Then I moseyed over to the root vegetable stand, where I bought big white parsnips for a soup recipe that my mother-in-law sent me, some beautiful mixed carrots (marigold, deep orange, and purple), and some cute little purple potatoes that I thought I'd slice thinly and use to "re-scale" a fish. Then I hit up the apple stand and bought a few big, crisp Fijis, for snacking. Next was leafy greens--a head of tightly-curled kale for a salad with the pomegranate, the hugest bunch of celery I've ever seen (I ended up making a salad with the leaves alone), some cute little brussel sprouts, and a beautiful, fragrant bunch of dill for a pasta dish I'll be creating today, with shrimp and meyer lemons. Meyer lemons are not like normal lemons--they are almost a combination of lemon and orange...if you haven't tried one, ask your grocer to order some. And finally, some soft and candy-sweet dates to sautee up with the brussel sprouts.

I had to carry the bag back to my house as if it was a small child, it was so heavy...but again, I had a big smile on my face like the very first time I set foot at the market, my mind reeling with plans of how to use this beautiful produce before next week's harvest.

If you'd like to learn more about farmer's markets and eco-conscious food shopping, I highly suggest reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. She is one of my favorite authors--she wrote Poisonwood Bible, Bean Trees, and Prodigal Summer. She is one of very few authors out there who can capture in words the experience of nature, and it is a subject about which she cares deeply.

So, if you have a farmer's market available to you, I encourage you to check it out, meet your local farmers, and experience the difference in the taste experience between fresh-from-the-farm foods and the foods in your grocery store that have been flown in from South America, for instance, and picked a week ago.

We are indeed much more than we eat, but what we eat can nevertheless help us to be much more than what we are. -Adelle Davis