Recently the New York Times ran a small story about Europe’s reversal of a ban on selling “ugly” produce. At the time I laughed at the bizarreness of this ruling. I did the same two weekends ago as I stood on line at the Phoenixville Farmers’ Market, a knobbly parsnip clutched in my right hand. Years of hanging out at farmers’ markets and of intermittently and unsuccessfully growing my own vegetables have taught me that beautiful does not mean better. In fact, in most instances the pretty produce found at grocery stores is downright bland.
Granted, every now and then my farmer’s market purchases might yield a crooked carrot or dirt still clinging to my microgreens. Yet, because of the wealth of good, seasonal products and opportunity to support local and increasingly biodynamic farmers, it remains my preferred place for produce. Thanks to the luxury of travel and of dividing my time between city and suburban life, I have a long list of favorite markets at which I shop.
In New York I go to the place that anyone who has ever lived in or around the city seems to know, Union Square’s Greenmarket. Greenmarket has multiple locations, including a spot right near my apartment on Columbus and 97th. Yet the Union Square locale, the biggest and most diverse in my opinion, is my favorite. In spring and summertime the grounds surrounding Union Square Park overflow with stalls bearing fresh berries, mounds of freshly picked corn, greens, locally baked breads, cookies and other treats. In fall apples, pumpkins, mums and hot mulled cider replace the summer offerings. On the coldest January days a few sellers persevere, providing root vegetables and warm winter cheer.
When in the Hudson Valley, I love stopping at the Sunday morning market in Rhinebeck. Held in the municipal parking lot from 10 a.m. until 2 p.m., the Rhinebeck Farmers’ Market showcases local wineries, cheeses, honey, eggs, cut flowers, produce and baked goods. With its live music, free wine tastings and periodic cooking demonstrations I am in farmer’s market heaven.
In Lancaster, Penn. my mother-in-law as well as friends Scott, Dore and Julie have the pleasure of shopping at the historic Central Market. Scott and Dore, who live in downtown Lancaster, walk to the market whenever it’s open, which happens to be on Tuesday, Friday and Saturday.
Whenever I visit Lancaster, I make an effort to arrive on a market day. There I stock up on Lancaster County preserves, relishes, red velvet cupcakes, organic dog treats and catnip toys. When I return home, everyone from Sean the spouse to Max the dog and cats Owen, Clive and Scooty in between revel in my haul from America’s oldest covered market, circa 1730.
Beyond my usual haunts I have had great fun walking the aisles of St. Louis’s Soulard Farmer’s Market. Open since 1779, it’s the oldest farmer’s market west of the Mississippi and an enormous one at that. Want a plucky, live chicken? Sunglasses? Watermelons? Flowers? Pigs’ snouts? How ’bout a $2 beer that you can drink while wandering around, looking for a slab of gooey butter cake? Soulard has it all and then some.