minneapolis farmers market

It's a good thing Minnesota is (typically) such a cold and snowy place as we turn the calendar page to a new year, because for the second year in a row, my New Year's resolution has involved soup. Here's a tip apropos of resolutions, people: Don't bite off more than you can chew, or slurp. Last year, I resolved to figure out a way to make a delicious vegetable soup that satisfied my hungry, winter (read: carnivorous) self and I did it! It pays to make super attainable resolutions. The vegetable stock and the soup itself are recipes I go back to time and time again, and each time I do, I feel warm, nourished, happy and yes, a wee bit virtuous. This year, as I was thinking of things in my life I wanted to change in 2012, I somehow fell right back into a pot of soup.

(Buddy the Pony and his friends - photo by Mike Braucher)

I am a creature of habit and one of the most comforting and delicious of my habits for the last couple summers has been a trip to the Kingfield Farmers Market almost every single Sunday. Sometimes I bring the whole family along and we meander and nosh on mini-donuts, falafel or Thai omelets, running into friends and neighbors at every turn. Sometimes, I go in for a surgical strike – alone with my basket, in and out in fifteen minutes, loaded down with eggs, veggies, salmon, meats and cheeses for the week. By the looks of the mellow shuffling crowds, I am not the only one with a Kingfield Farmers Market habit, and so I am probably not the only one who’s going to be feeling a bit forlorn now that the season has ended.

If you’re wondering why I would be talking tomatoes in October, you can rest easy. I’m not talking just any tomatoes. I’m talking ugly ass tomatoes. And I mean that in a nice way. Ugly ass tomatoes are like rainy days. Bear with me – this is a super tortured simile. You know how when it’s sunny, you feel guilty if you’re not outside? After a while, a rainy day comes as a relief because you don’t have to feel bad about poking around inside the house, right? Well, in August, when the tomatoes are gorgeous and bursting with life and flavor, you probably feel guilty eating them any way but raw. Turning a beautiful August tomato into sauce seems wrong somehow. But right now, giant buckets of ugly ass tomatoes are being sold for a song at the farmers markets. You don’t have to feel guilty about roasting them, simmering them, or cooking them into sweet caramelized submission because they are cheap, plentiful and so very ugly ass. And, like a rainy day, what a relief!

If the current over-industrialized state of beef, pork and poultry production is getting your goat, then you may want to consider doing just that.

Many Americans may be more familiar with goat products made from its milk, like specialty soaps and artisanal cheeses (chèvre), and its fibers, which produce luxurious goat hair yarns such as Cashmere and Mohair, but for most of the world, it is goat meat that is top choice. Now, with growing demand from immigrants for whom goat meat is part of their food culture and savvy foodies interested in authentic ethnic cuisines and local sustainable food sources, Capra hircus is starting to stand out from the herd in the US as well. 

The Other Red Meat

After my husband and I sold our house and moved across the globe to the Philippines last October, I braced myself for missing so many things in Minnesota: strolls through the Landscape Arboretum for spring garden inspiration; summer bike rides along lakeshores and wooded trails; weekend excursions to view autumn foliage; and, yes, even winter, for outdoor ice skating and hot cocoa breaks. Most of all, I would miss seeing the seasons change at my favorite Twin Cities farmers' markets. From morel mushrooms in May, to juicy berries in July and crisp parsnips in October, the amazing produce and products offered at these markets taught me the joys of eating fresh, local, and seasonal food.

Midwestern farmers' markets are the stuff of midwinter’s – and really, even midspring’s – dreams.  When we sit down and contemplate the changing weather, the growth potential, and the veritable expansion of our own resources, we tend to imagine gardens. Farms. Food production in a variety of levels – gardener or not. We just can’t help ourselves.

For everything there is a season, but for fresh produce grown in the Upper Midwest, it can be a frustratingly short period of time. It’s a hard truth that local food lovers in colder climes have accepted with resignation: enjoy the seasonal bounty of fruits and vegetables while you can, before the growing season quickly comes to an end. For many of us, the abbreviated availability of certain fresh foods make the concepts of eating locally and seasonally seem incompatible for a good portion of the year. But now, an emerging farm technique is stretching the traditional boundaries of the growing season and could help bring the local and the seasonal together under its roof. 

Early Surprises

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I hate it when I invent something that’s already been invented. Maybe I’m not very original, or maybe I’m just a classic Johnnie-come-lately, but I seem to have a penchant for coming up with the best best BEST ideas only to be smacked down by the cool unforgiving hand of Google. I won’t get into the specifics of my past inventions, because I’m afraid I’ll start getting a reputation around here, but this last one, the invention that I invented specifically for you... well, we’re just going to have to sit down and talk about this because it really is good, and just because someone else invented it first is no reason to deprive you of my genius.

This week marks the end of October, the end of Daylight Savings Time, and the end of the season for most of the area’s farmers markets. So get out there and visit your favorites one last time, bid auld lang syne, and promise to greet them next spring when they return.

Minneapolis Farmers Market Manager Larry Cermak is a serious man.  He's been managing the market for 25 years, he tells me, and "this is the most miserable October we've had." The weather has been damp and cold, making it challenging for the farmers to harvest their crops - corn and soy beans are still not ready - and the sun hasn't shown its smiley face in what seems like ages. Larry is realistic, but not necessarily optimistic. "We need people to come out this week and next weekend," he tells me, "we need a big Halloween weekend."