Every farmers’ market is different. The vendors and clientele vary, of course, but the setting–the unique backdrop to each event–also colors how it feels to be there, as well as the crowd that attends.

Can you find the farmers' market in this photo? Seattle's Madrona Market enjoys an unlikely synergy with its host, an area Grocery Outlet. Photo by Devra Gartenstein.

During the summer months, my business vends at a dozen farmers’ markets in the Seattle area. Four of them–Columbia City, Lake City, Magnolia, and Mercer Island–are adjacent to parks. This is generally a good thing for my business: I sell ready-to-eat food. On sunny days folks stick around and hang out in the parks, eating and drinking while they stay. These markets are community events where families go to spend a morning or an afternoon. But they can be especially slow when the weather doesn’t cooperate.

In contrast, the Madrona Market is located in the parking lot of a discount grocery outlet. You’d think that would be a strange place for a farmers’ market: fresh, local food juxtaposed against cheap, mass-produced products. But it somehow ends up being a lovely fit. The market is situated on the edge of a low income neighborhood, and the proximity of the discount store probably makes it less intimidating to folks who can’t afford to spend their entire food budget there. The employees at the grocery outlet are great hosts. (They even let us use their bathroom.) I suspect they feel that our presence helps to upgrade their image a bit.

The Bellevue Farmers’ Market moved this year to a new home right across from the mall. I’ve never been a big fan of malls, but in this particular neighborhood, the location seems to be a draw. As with all markets, its success depends on the good will of neighborhood businesses, who are quite willing to share their parking and help to promote the event.

The Queen Anne Farmers’ Market relocated this year from a schoolyard in a residential neighborhood to a street just off the main drag in that part of town. There was considerable controversy about the choice of location, in fact, the farmers’ market organization that had run the event for the past two years canceled their contract with the neighborhood group that hired them, convinced that the event couldn’t work in such a narrow space. The community came together in spite of the conflict, and did a great job of making the market happen on their own. It’s busier than it was last year and feels almost like a block party. I don’t know if that’s because it’s more centrally located or because there was such a strong neighborhood commitment to make it happen this year, but it feels good.

In the coming years I’m sure we’ll see an even wider range of market locations. Although some market managers believe that the field is growing saturated and new markets “cannibalize” existing ones, I think there could be plenty of room for everyone. If we keep spreading the word about why it’s important to eat local, sustainable food, if we can remove some of the obstacles that make it so hard for young farmers to get started, and if we can achieve moderate economies of scale that enable producers to keep their prices reasonable, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t be able to have farmers’ markets at bus stations and libraries, and even schools, ballparks and museums.

They decided to start with a farmers’ market booth, and signed up for a handful of events last summer. Specializing in organic, grass-fed cheeseburgers and polenta cakes topped with a variety of signature sauces, they refused to compromise on the quality of their ingredients and built up a loyal clientele. They meticulously sourced biodegradable packaging and utensils, and offered discounts to customers bringing their own plates. Their three-year old son, Cypress, spent the day at the markets where they were vending, in the care of a babysitter but close to his parents.

When the market season ended they did a bit of catering and started thinking seriously about their next step. Through a series of fortuitous coincidences, they found themselves ready to act right about the same time that I had decided to close my own takeout restaurant. It was a small space, I’d been there for 4 years, and I was vending at so many farmers’ markets that it had become inconvenient to also operate a retail space.

This past February they took over my lease on the spot I like to call “the cutest building in the city” and Green Go found a permanent home. It’s a tiny brick building–about 400 square feet–that’s close to 100 years old; quite old for Seattle. It’s been a machine shop and a barber shop, and was a chili parlor during the Great Depression. During the past twenty years it’s been occupied by a variety of food businesses, with varying degrees of success. The spot has character and potential, and it’s close to the main streets in its neighborhood but a bit off the beaten path. I think their business will be an excellent fit for the location.

So far they’ve been getting on well with the neighborhood and tweaking their hours, expanding their lunch menu and starting to open some evenings for dinner as well. They cleared away an old walk-in freezer just outside the side door and have begun using that area for patio dining. Having a small child themselves, Dylan and Heidi especially interested in attracting parents of young children looking for a kid-friendly atmosphere, and accessible, healthy, reasonably priced food.

The couple continues to struggle with the challenge of charging affordable prices while sticking to high quality ingredients. I am confident that before long they’ll find a successful balance that involves staying true to their ideals without selling themselves short.

Justin Rothboeck told the paper that while sticking to the regimen, he’d felt he was violating the very ideals that locavores espouse, spewing carbon by driving all over the region to find items grown close to home. Until he abandoned the quest, Rothboeck had been so scrupulous that he even refrained from buying jam if it contained pectin that hadn’t been locally sourced.

During the past few years there have been a number of popular books documenting undertakings like Rothboeck’s, most notably Barbara Kingsolver’s “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle,” and Alisa Smith and James MacKinnon’s “Plenty.” These accounts always start with definitions of what the authors have decided to call “local”, and also include lists of caveats. Each member of Kingsolver’s family chooses one food for which they’ll make exceptions: Kingsolver picks olive oil, while her husband refuses to live without coffee. Smith and McKinnon decide that anything already in their cupboards is fair game, regardless of where it was produced, and they resolve to be gracious and accept what’s offered to them when dining with friends.

The fact is, we’ve strayed so far from simple, common sense diets based on the foods that grow closest to where we live that it’s less convenient to find sustenance from our immediate environment than it is to shop at the local supermarket. The very fact that aspiring locavores need to create definitions and rules is a symptom of just how awkward such a quest can be.

But the intention to eat locally can be much simpler and more straightforward if we stay away from all-or-nothing terms. This is an instance of the proverbial perfect acting as an enemy of the good. If you decide to be so scrupulous that you won’t eat jam that contains pectin produced outside of your bioregion, then it’s understandable that you’d give up and go buy a banana. These quests make great stories, but they’re not particularly practical for most of us on a daily basis.

Here are some guidelines for a more modest, attainable style of local eating: Pay attention to what grows in your area, and look for opportunities to base meals on these foods. Learn to enjoy seasonal ingredients. They make sense: beets and potatoes need to be cooked for a while, and that process makes your house a little warmer during the cold, winter months. Read signs at the supermarket that tell you where their fruits and vegetables are grown. It’s still better to buy something produced a few hundred rather than a few thousand mile from home. And, of course, support your local farmers’ market.

local food, seasonal food, Justin Rothboeck, Devra Gartenstein

(2007 floods in Centralia/Chehalis, photo courtesy of Nate Ritter)

There was widespread flooding throughout the Pacific Northwest last week, as dramatic rainstorms followed on the heels of the record snowfalls that closed out 2008. This is the third consecutive winter to bring major floods to the valleys holding much of the region’s agricultural land.

Fortunately, many farmers who suffered losses the past few years were able to escape unscathed this time around. The managers of the Ballard Farmers’ Market, Seattle’s largest winter market, reported that not a single farmers was absent this past Sunday because of the flooding. Willie Greens Farm, the CSA that I use, missed the last few weeks of 2008 because of ice and snow but they were able to deliver this week–several hours late–after waiting for flooded roadways to clear. They’d lost five of their greenhouses under the weight of recent snows, so this delivery felt like a small miracle.

The folks at Boistfort Valley Farm, near the Chehalis River, lost their house and much of their equipment during the 2007 floods. This time the river crested just twelve inches from their yard. At Full Circle Farm, near Carnation, the manager and several workers spent the night as the river rose, moving vulnerable stock and equipment to higher ground. They lost very little of their winter crop, which they mostly plant at a higher altitude. It helped that the weather reports were fairly accurate, and the conditions (heavy snow followed by heavy rain) were similar to the ones that unleashed the floods last winter, which were still fresh in everyone’s minds.

There’s nothing terribly surprising about flooding in an area that’s a designated flood plain. But the damage has been particularly dramatic during recent years due to increased residential development, and also because the weather events seem to be growing more severe, or at least more frequent. As of late 2007, King County implemented a policy allowing nature to take its course, as far as flooding is concerned. This means, among other things, restricting further development in flood plains and giving the rivers extra room to flood. It also means, on some level, accepting the fact that flooding is inevitable.

Historically, flooding has been an important factor in the development of agriculture. The ancient lands of Egypt and Mesopotamia gave rise to some of the earliest sophisticated civilizations in part because of their proximity to rivers that periodically flooded, leaving enough silt to create unusually fertile soil. But when modern rivers flood they leave unwanted residues, such as runoff from manure on neighboring fields, and toxins from heavy metals. Organic farmers run the risk of losing their certification if their land and crops are contaminated by substances in the water.

Food safety regulations forbid farmers from selling any crops that were in the ground when a field was flooded. We can at least be grateful that our peak flood season falls during the slower part of our agricultural year.

Devra Gartenstein is the owner of Seattle’s Patty Pan Grill and the author of two cookbooks, Local Bounty: Vegan Seasonal Produce and The Accidental Vegan. She also blogs at The Quirky Gourmet.

flooding, pacific northwest, farming

Bill Marler, the most prominent food safety attorney in the country, has published a list of what he predicts will be the biggest food safety issues during the upcoming year. He lists, among other things, the dangers we face from globalization, e coli, as well as cross-contamination between the human and animal food chains. But the most surprising item on the list is a food source that many of us associate with safety and integrity: local food. He writes:

Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) groups and food coops need to demonstrate knowledge and practice of food safety, and be inspected. In addition to produce and meats/fish, prepared foods are currently unsupervised.

It’s certainly true that food purveyors at every level should be scrupulously clean and conscientious about how they handle their food. But it’s patently untrue that farmers’ market prepared foods are unsupervised, at least here in Seattle, where both Mr. Marler and I live. Prepared food vendors are permitted and inspected by the health department. When health inspectors aren’t personally on site, the market managers act as their proxies, checking temperatures and hand washing stations. We’re also required to take classes in proper food handling procedures.

I’ve read quotes from experts saying that, even though locally produced food can be just as contaminated as industrial food, outbreaks don’t occur on as wide a scale, and they’re easier to trace. Small-scale food production certainly isn’t a panacea for food-borne illness: people die from botulism present in home-canned foods. But local food and small-scale food production can offer a potential solution for many of the safety issues that come about because of the economies of scale that are central to the industrialization of the food supply.

You can’t mass produce cheap food without cutting corners. The salmonella and e coli which have been the impetus for Mr. Marler’s most famous lawsuits are epidemic in factory-farmed animals, raised in cramped, filthy conditions, and weakened by growth hormones and diets that make them gain weight quickly without adequately nourishing them. Sure, well-cared for animals get sick too, but they’re less likely to suffer from the kinds of ailments which go hand-in-hand with industrial practices. Similarly, global food companies use questionable additives to add bulk without adding value, and to cheaply extend shelf life.

I hope Mr. Marler’s warnings about the potential dangers of local foods can act as a reminder that food isn’t necessarily safe simply because it’s produced on a small scale. But I certainly want to set the record straight about the fact that farmers’ market vendors are conscientiously supervised and inspected. And I still feel safer buying my food from someone who visibly takes pride in their operation than from a multinational conglomerate.

food safety, local food, devra gartenstein, bill marler, e coli, public health

Still, the whole experience has gotten me thinking about the economics of sustainable food. Consumers are being asked to pay more for better food during a time when everyone is short on cash. On the surface that sounds like a tough sell, until you consider the fact that eating well is not just a short-term choice. Like the stock market, it’s an investment in the future, one that can have a real bearing on our long-term quality of life.

When we put our money into stocks we help support companies that, for the most part, we don’t see first hand. Their activities take place in other parts of the country, and sometimes even other parts of the world. But when we put your money into locally produced, well-crafted sustainable food products, we share in building our own communities and we can see the results directly, as small businesses thrive-or at the very least, continue to do business-and farmland is preserved for future generations.

When we buy shares in publicly traded companies, the value of those shares rises and falls in keeping with a general perception of their supposed value, which may have nothing to do with the real worth of the enterprise: whether it helps or hurts people, and whether it is engaged in practices that offer us a better future. When we pay higher prices for fruits and vegetables that come directly from the folks who grow them, we spend more than we would at the supermarket because the product we’re buying has real value, and is worth more than the mass produced alternatives. These products are worth more because they’re grown by people who care about flavor, tradition, and the long-term health of the land.

When we buy stocks, we receive no immediate benefit (except sometimes a tax deduction.) But when we buy sustainable food, we’re able to enjoy fine meals right away, while we also invest in a way of life that will give us a better future by keeping us healthier, and also keeping us more closely in touch with the things that really matter, like enjoying day-to-day moments, and taking care of one another.

Anyone who has worked in the food service industry can tell you that there’s an awful lot of waste. It’s built into the system, from produce displays which are expected to be abundant and perfect, causing merchants to keep on hand more than they can possibly sell, and toss items that aren’t pristine, to over-sized restaurant portions that most of us can’t finish, to leftover buffet items that the health department forbids us to reuse. Even small-scale farmers have plenty of waste: they thin immature plants that are perfectly edible but don’t offer much in retail value, and carry unsold items home from farmers’ markets only to throw them on the compost pile. Many farmers even leave perfectly good crops un-picked because they just can’t sell everything.

In a perfect world, all of this extra food would find its way to food banks and other outlets for feeding the hungry. But it can be tricky to store leftover items until the food bank can come for them, and time consuming to deliver them yourself. As the price of gas has increased, many food banks have found themselves with increasingly limited budgets for fueling their vehicles and picking up donations. For a store or vendor, lowering prices can increase sales of items that might otherwise be wasted but this strategy can be counterproductive: you lose money if a customer chooses a marked-down item instead of an alternative that’s being offered at full price.

In a time of rising food costs and growing concerns over food security, it makes sense for all of us — producers and consumers alike — to take a good look at the ways we waste food. The steps we can all take as individuals seem almost too obvious to mention: look for opportunities to use leftovers, plan meals around ingredients you already have on hand, get creative using the produce from your own garden. I also like to push the envelope as much as possible and make use of parts of fruits and vegetables that are perfectly edible but aren’t always eaten, like the stems from broccoli and Swiss chard, and the greens from beets and turnips.

As a restaurant owner, I’ve seen encouraging signs lately suggesting that there’s increasing awareness about the importance of making use of food that might otherwise be wasted. During a recent visit, my local health inspector brought flyers designed to encourage restaurants to donate their extra food. (I found it interesting that these flyers made a point to mention that state law protects purveyors from liability concerns when they donate food that’s safe and edible.) This summer, Gov. Gregoire designated funds aimed specifically towards fueling food bank vehicles for picking up and delivering donations throughout Washington State.

There have been some interesting developments at farmers’ markets as well. Customers are growing increasingly open to trying new foods, so vendors are bringing all kinds of items that used to be tossed aside, like cabbage raab, kale buds, and cauliflower greens. It’s exciting to see changes that make our food system more sustainable, while simultaneously expanding our culinary horizons.

If you think it’s hard making decisions every day about the right way to eat, imagine trying to make thoughtful, conscientious choices about feeding hundreds, even thousands of people each week. Like consumers, we producers care about the quality of the ingredients we buy, struggling to find affordable food that has been sustainably produced. But our very livelihood can depend on finding a careful balance between cost and integrity.

As individuals, each of us navigates the complex world of food each day by establishing a set of criteria and priorities, whether or not we’re aware of it. We may choose our foods on the basis of flavor, cost or convenience, or we may choose vegetarian or vegan options, or items that have been locally or organically grown. Few of us are entirely consistent: we make exceptions when we go out to eat, when we travel, when we share meals with people we love who eat differently than we do, or when we’re simply tired of all the effort. I know organic farmers who eat corn dogs and Egg McMuffins, and one long time vegan who insists on using butter in her sweet potato pie.

Similarly, people who own and run food businesses strive to build something that expresses our vision, however imperfectly that may be possible given the real world constraints of price and availability. We navigate a world of wholesalers, retailers and distributors, with minimum orders and scheduled delivery days. We do the best we can, and then we offer our creations to an audience of people who embrace or reject them, filtering their reactions through their own tastes and standards.

For me personally, as a customer and a vendor, my most important criteria is being able to buy ingredients directly from the people who produce them. I believe passionately in local economies, and in the benefits that they offer to communities. I have a deep distaste for distributors and I would rather shop at the mainstream food service grocery a mile from my shop than at the organic wholesaler thirty miles away, where I’ll struggle to meet an order minimum by padding my shopping list with items I don’t necessarily need, at least not in case quantities. Besides, if I save money shopping at the mainstream wholesaler, I have more to spend at the farmers’ market.

Some vendors meticulously vet every one of their sources, just as some consumers do. I don’t try to produce a perfectly pure product, but rather a reasonably pure one, for a great price. For me that’s a way of pushing back against some of the elitism and snobbery that I sometimes see among those of us who care about what we eat. It’s also in part a reaction to having grown up in a kosher household, where unacceptable foods couldn’t even touch our plates.

Unfortunately, there’s no easy, concise way to explain all this to the people who approach my booth and ask, “Is everything organic?”

Although the official Eat Well team is a small one, there are dozens of people who help support the program, including consultants, interns and volunteers. One such volunteer is Devra Gartenstein, owner of the Patty Pan Grill in Seattle, and author of The Accidental Vegan and upcoming cookbook Local Bounty. Devra has been volunteering for Eat Well since January, researching regional listings for the Eat Well Guide. She also writes her own blog, the Quirky Gourmet, but today, she brings us news from the Emerald City.

Here in Seattle, as in so many places, we’re gearing up for farmers’ market season. I run a food concession at eight local markets, where I cook a menu based on locally sourced ingredients. This is my twelfth year as a farmers’ market vendor, and during that time I’ve seen the Seattle markets grow from two markets to eleven (with at least a dozen more in outlying areas).

Until this year, not one of these markets had a permanent home. They’re mostly held in parking lots or on the grounds of community centers, and each market has had to renegotiate for its location year after year. This has become more of an issue as real estate prices have appreciated: it gets harder to find open spaces, and more difficult to create long term arrangements.

Lately, the city has been working closely with market administrators to remedy this situation. The Lake City Market now has a secure location in a grassy park next to the neighborhood library and community center, with a playground and a picnic area. The process of establishing the market there has helped to open a dialog between market managers and city council members which will hopefully lead to more permanent market sites in the future.

Seattle has one of the longest growing seasons in the country, and three of our markets run all winter. Vendors set up in wind and snow, but mostly in the interminable rain. Farmers tweak their product mixes through the seasons, offering more frozen, prepared and dried items during the chilly months and, of course, plenty of greens. Lately we’ve been seeing some of the early spring vegetables, with hearty salad mixes, young onions and garlic, and broccoli and cabbage raab. Last week I caught a glimpse of the first local asparagus.

Each market has its own rhythm. The ones with limited seasons start with a bang, hosting opening day galas with music, puppets and speeches. Year-round markets crescendo gradually through the spring, peaking later in the season. The farmers trickle in a few at a time as their crops become available rather than coming all at once on opening day.

It’s great to see the farmers returning, and to learn how they fared during the winter months. Some have had a really rough season, like Heidi and Mike Peroni, of Boitsfort Valley Farm (near Olympia), who lost their house and all of their equipment in a flood late last fall. They’ve been able to do some cleaning and rebuilding, with friends and neighbors organizing regular work parties to help. After a tough few months, they recently got some good news: tests have revealed that their land was not contaminated with toxins that would compromise their organic status, so they’ll be able to continue to label their produce as organically certified.

I’m excited for the market season and thrilled to be a part of the community of farmers’ market vendors. I see many of the same farmers at different events over the course of each week, and follow their travails and triumphs. This has been a difficult spring for many farmers in this area because the cold weather hung on much later than usual. Still, they’re managing to get some crops to market, and there’s so much more to come. We’re all very excited now, and we’re all going to be very tired in a few months.