Der Markt

One thing, at least, Germany has in common with Chestertown. Well, again, sort of. Usually two or three times a week, every city or village has a farmer’s market.

The curious thing about the German farmer’s market is first, it’s size. Every one I’ve been to has been something of a crowded affair, with as many stalls as possible squeezed into a square that if you could see it empty would leave you with the impression a full out market could never actually fit into it later. And yet there are aisles of metzgerei (meat sellers), and gemuse and obst (vegetables and fruit) and always an apfelwein stand. You can usually, at least in the ones I’ve gone to, barely fit between the stands, between the narrow aisles and the many people with their oversized shopping bags and baskets and bikes.

The other thing, and this makes me miss my own farmer’s market despite the size and variety offered by the German markets, is that these are not my neighbors. Presumably they grow their vegetables in the vicinity of the city, but I wouldn’t know. For all I know they’re dragging their produce from the next state over. And, with my slow and careful German that apparently no one can understand, I have no way of asking. I prefer to shop from people I know by name, or at least by face, from having seen and spoken with them week after week.

I wonder where this bounty of German vegetables comes from. I suspect they are not all German, especially when we arrive at the market in early May to find zucchini, which in Germany’s climate really should not be ripe until at least August, and apples, which should not be ripe until at least October. Yet here they are, along with a wide array of other out of season vegetables that my friend’s mom tells me are probably from Greece. This is not the idea I have of farmer’s markets: the food is fresh, definitely, and maybe it is less pesticide laden or has traveled a shorter distance than the food in the grocery store (Greece is 2,100 km away, while New Zealand or Ecuador, where many grocery store vegetables come from, are more like 18,200 km). But I always come to Germany hoping to eat German vegetables, and other than spargel (asparagus- Germans love this stuff, especially the white kind, which we don’t have in the states), I am usually disappointed.

The same goes for other foods. Maybe I don’t notice it as much at home, where I’m not thinking about it as much, but looking for German cheese at the market came up with nothing (at least I found some from Holland, the next country over), and even the famous German bread, much to my disappointment, is baked from dough made somewhere else, in a big factory somewhere maybe, and only baked on the premises. It still tastes good, but with that in mind I start wondering about preservatives and artificial sugars, which at home I would avoid at all costs.

It makes me wonder. When I go with my friends to the store, they want to drink Italian wine, or Californian. I only want to drink German, because finally I have a selection of some of my favorite wines in the world, and they are grown and fermented only minutes away. But it really brings into perspective how seldom even someone who thinks most of the time about where her food comes from in actuality is eating locally. After all, I drink German wine when I’m at home.

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The Farmer’s Market (An Interlude)

Speaking of the farmer’s market, I want to take a moment to share a story that indicates why I love it so much. I won’t name names, as it's better you meet the farmers on your own- just keep in mind that I’ve worked with many of them, and see the rest every week at the market.

This past Saturday I had it in my mind to make chili- the temperature is finally right where nothing is so satisfying as a hearty bowl of chili. I was dreading breaking into my cans of tomatoes, as I only can a small number every summer (small kitchen) and hoarde them throughout the winter, but I won’t abide the suggestion of making chili with store bought tomatoes. So imagine my surprise when I came across a crate of late tomatoes at the market- beautiful, plump red tomatoes, fresh as can be. I quickly loaded up my arms with as many as I could carry and made for the “counter”- the table set up for taking money. I laughed with the proprietor over the number of tomatoes I set down, explaining my chili dilemma, at which news she immediately disappeared to find me a few unusual peppers to go with the tomatoes. She gave me one of the purple ones, a pepper the color of eggplant on the outside but green inside, with a tart, sharper taste than a regular bell, and told me it was on the house- I needed a little color in my chili. She also regularly pushes the more unusual squashes into my arms as I stock up on my usual butternut and acorn, telling me just to try it, and waving away my attempts to pay for the additional bounty. She knows if I like it I will be back to buy in quantity.

The other vendors are just as giving- if you are doubtful as to which variety of apple you like best, most likely they will hand you one of each and make you try while they stand and watch, anxious to see your reaction. Each farmer grows something a little different, something you may not have tried before- whether it’s a variety of pear or a purple tomato, or cobs of corn meant for popping- and they are all happy to explain the best way to eat it, and usually happy to let you give it a try as a “bonus” with your regular veggies.

Therefore I always walk away from the farmer’s market with a bag stuffed with more than I can eat in a week, usually for under $10, and a huge, grateful smile on my face. Nothing beats the feeling of being a part of a community, of talking to the people I know as I browse, of sharing recipes and stories with the farmers as I fill up my bag, of petting dogs and smiling at wide eyed little kids, mouths stained with blackberry juice or covered in crumbs from an apple tart- unless it is the looks on my friend’s faces when they sit back after a meal, glass of local wine in hand, laughing over a shared joke.

Here’s my chili recipe, if you’re curious. Everything came from the farmer’s market except the beans, though if anyone starts growing them I guarantee I will switch in a heartbeat. The sugar is raw, from the Natural Food store.

3-4 medium cloves garlic
1 onion (I prefer yellow)
8-ish pounds of tomatoes, skinned*
2-3 carrots
1 cup vegetable broth or water and bouillon
1 can each black beans, kidney beans, chickpeas, drained
2-3 bell peppers
optional: other veggies, such as celery, green beans (cut small) or eggplant
hot peppers, to taste
spices: cumin, chili powder, oregano, coriander, salt and pepper, to taste
1 tbsp sugar
½ can tomato paste

In a large pot, sauté the garlic and onion in a little oil, until translucent. Add the tomatoes, carrots, broth and spices, simmer 10 or so minutes. Add the beans and additional veggies, simmer until most of the liquid has been absorbed (but not all), and the veggies are tender. This is a matter of personal preference more than anything. Finally, add the hot peppers, sugar, and tomato paste, and simmer an additional 5 minutes, covered. Serve with bread and topped with cheese (I recommend Eve’s Cheese jalapeño Colby, also from the Natural Food store, and local). Depending on the quantity of tomatoes, can feed up to 6-8 people.

*If you’ve never skinned a tomato, the process is simple (and I find, very enjoyable and stress relieving). Core the tomatoes (cut out the hard bit where the stem was). Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil and turn down to about medium heat, then drop in the tomatoes for about three minutes each. Transfer to a strainer (a slotted spoon helps) and let cool for several minutes. The skins should slide right off, and you can squeeze them a little (be careful not to squirt yourself in the eye) to get out the majority of the water and seeds, before mushing them and adding them to the chili, or sauce, or what have you. If done over a bowl, this leaves behind a delicious juice you can strain and drink, or pour over your garden (its full of nutrients- but also acidic, so use sparingly).

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Farm Fresh

Whatever happened to walking to market? In my hometown of York, PA, I’ve been fortunate enough to experience the Central Markethouse, Eastern Market, and other local markets where local farmers sell fresh produce, meat, and delicious Pennsylvania Dutch food. I was used to walking across the street at work to get my lunch. I was used to knowing where it came from. In fact, my mother buys from a stand where the produce was picked by my cousin. It is never hard to find fresh, local food in York.

It shocked me that while living in Cork, Ireland, many of the people I studied with were delighted and amazed by the English Market, where a 10 minute walk down the street revealed a centuries-old markethouse that sold meat, cheeses, vegetables, pastries, and anything else in between. Besides being local, the food sold there was usually a fraction of the price of grocery store goods. It made sense – there were no transportation costs or distribution and packaging fees. Straight from farm to market to me. That’s the way I like my food.

Where is the downside of locally grown food? Availability. Many urban or sprawl areas just don’t have access to farmers’ markets, either because of transportation or simply because there isn’t one. Even in York I watch as more and more farmland transforms into suburbia and new condos. When my friends visit I always show them the old farmhouses surrounded by the sprawl. That land’s crop-growing days are over.

But, in Chestertown, we are fortunate enough to have a Saturday morning farmer’s market in Fountain Park, where I pick up fresh fruit, vegetables, and flowers. I also work for a share of produce at Colchester Farm, a Community Shared Agriculture (CSA) farm where, if I help harvest the crop weekly, I can take some of my own. I will also soon acquire some broiler chickens from the farm, and I hope to buy more local meat (very rarely do I eat any meat that I haven’t seen first or know exactly where it came from anymore).

So, why buy local? By buying locally, you help keep business in the local area, supporting local farms and fellow neighbors. It’s what helps keep small-scale farms operating; otherwise, like some farms on the Eastern Shore, they could be bought out by developers, and the same thing that’s happening in my home county can happen here. Buying at market shows that you support your community and want to preserve the integrity of smaller farms.

Next time you’re at the grocery store, picking up some California strawberries and Perdue chicken, think to yourself, “I can get some local strawberries and chicken Saturday morning. I’ll wait on these.” And, if you don’t have access to a market, look around for signs at the store that say “Locally grown!”. Every time you buy something local, you help strengthen community support for farmers, and keep that farm from disappearing. What would we do without farms? Do we really want to drive down the street to see suburb after suburb, especially here on the Eastern Shore? I think not.

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