Living in the city, and off the land

Peter Clarke, a farmer at the Finchley Market, shows off his organic vegetables

Shonali Muthalaly

For most city dwellers, apples are plucked from green plastic crates and potatoes dug out of neat layers of packaging. Chickens are mysterious birds that arrive in rows of drumsticks, all ready to charge into frying pans with regimental precision. And tomatoes come in sixes - bright, shiny and identical - looking as though they had marched off an assembly line rather than grown on a living, rustling tree.

For a long time it made no difference to most people whether food came fresh from a farm or out of a can. It didn’t matter whether it was grown in the garden next door, or flown in from the other end of the world. Hardly anyone cared whether their morning sausages came from well-kept pigs, or their frozen steaks from organically-reared cows. And ‘The Lord Of The Rings’ was the most comfortable way to admire the countryside. (Oh, so what if it’s New Zealand!)

It is, after all, difficult to fault convenience.

Unless, of course, you realise what you’re giving up in the bargain. And the average Farmers’ Market, which now draws more people than a bargain sale on a Saturday, seems to be changing how people shop, cook and eat by demonstrating exactly what they’ve been missing out on in those antiseptic supermarket aisles. Local farmers, with truckloads of almost obscenely colourful, compellingly real produce are working hard at convincing fast-walking, fast-talking city folk that slices of rural life can be delicious, healthy and delightful. Above all, delicious.

And as a bonus you can even feel virtuous about doing your bit for the beleaguered planet.

Local Flavour

A farmers’ market isn’t just any old gathering of photogenic produce watched over fondly by people in gumboots and with laidback drawls. The National Farmers’ Retail and Markets Association (FARMA)  – a cooperative of farmers and producers selling on a local scale, and farmers’ markets organisers, with approximately 7000 members and 225 markets under its wings – has very specific conditions that have to be fulfilled for every market it certifies.

Produce must be local, from within a radius of ideally 30 miles, but never more than 100 miles. Processed food, such as the bronzed crusty breads and moist carrot cakes displayed enticingly at these markets must be made by the stallholder, using fresh, local, seasonal ingredients. And the farmer or a direct representative must be at every stall, since the main emphasis is on customers knowing exactly where their food comes from, and how its grown or reared.

At the little Wednesday farmers market in Finchley, North London, for example, Peter and Joan Clarke never leave their makeshift counter, set up in front of their van. Peter starts by unloading a steady stream of appealingly varied vegetables, harvested “just 16 miles away as the crow flies”, some plucked just a few hours ago at their Kingcup Farm in Denham, Buckinghamshire; Joan chats with the customers, most of whom are regular visitors.

They say this warm relationship with their customers is an essential part of their business. Besides urging them to try new, exotic vegetables, (“You can roast Jerusalem artichokes. Baby leeks may be steamed. They’re delicious with a cheese sauce”) the couple also get ideas about new crops to grow from the people they sell to. “That’s how we have mooli and saag, suggested by Indians,” he grins. His vegetable kaleidoscope includes 70 different varieties, 30 of which were spread out in luminous piles at the market that day.

Fresh Ones

Peter, who’s been selling at farmers markets since they began in London in 1999, says that they are beneficial for both the farmers and the people who buy from them, as the food they supply is always fresh, and therefore both nutritious and tasty, with intense flavours and colours. Before the markets, he sold mainly through ‘Pick Your Own,’ where families spent a day on the farm picking their own fruit, usually raspberries, strawberries and currants. Though this was a concept that was especially popular in the 80s, by the late 90s it became more of a rarity.

For farmers, markets like this don’t just mean a way to connect with their customers. It also means they finally get to bypass the middle men, and green-thumb their noses at the supermarket chains, legendary for their draconian rules. “They’re interested in big quantities, and they force farmers to grow just one or two crops,” he says, Then, the farmers become suppliers, and have to do things like source cauliflowers in winter.” He says he didn’t want to become an importer.

Talking about how selling only seasonal food is an advantage, rather than a drawback, Sue Thompson, Spokesperson and Certification Manager for FARMA, says, “It’s a real bonus. Maybe you haven’t eaten it for six months, so your palate has a rest. And when you do eat it, in season, the flavours defy description.”

Besides, despite stocking seasonal food, these markets have the advantage of showcasing varieties of food you are unlikely to find anywhere else, especially at this price range. Peter Clarke, for instance, points out five piles of carrots, each a different colour – creamy white, sunshine yellow and different shades of orange – in his stall.

Rare Picks

“Since some fruits and vegetables don’t travel well, like strawberries and heritage varieties of tomatoes, which have thin skins, you won’t find them in supermarkets,” says Ms. Thompson. “So farmers markets have been a lifeline to rare breeds of meat, buffaloes cheese, bison burgers, which have no fat, and game that is in season…”

Safeguarding variety, by the way, has become a concern across the world. The Slow Food movement, which began in Italy in 1989, (with, appropriately enough, a little snail as its mascot) aims to ‘rediscover the flavours and savours of regional cooking.’ It now has 80,000 members across the world, all dedicated to fine-tasting, traditionally prepared, local food.

Its ‘Arc of Taste’ project, which works on ‘rediscovering, cataloguing, describing and publicising forgotten flavours’ has scientifically drawn up a list of threatened species, including the last indigenous Irish cattle, the Kerry, and a unique green fava bean grown only on the island of Santorini. The movement stresses the maintenance of variety as the key to varied tastes and high quality food.

Like the Slow Food movement, Farmers Markets are addressing similar issues, rearing their mass-produced heads all over the world.

In the UK, the report ‘Farmers’ Markets – Building Bridges between Farmers & London Shoppers’ launched by Jenny Jones, when she was Deputy Mayor of London, called for a “dramatic increase in farmers’ markets” and praised them for celebrating diversity. “According to the National Fruit collection at Brogdale there are 2,300 varieties of native UK apples,” the report stated, adding that there were 21 varieties at a market visited.  A stroll through an average supermarket aisle, on the other hand, indicated around a dozen.

Organisers, such as Cheryl Cohen, director of London Farmers’ Markets (which sets up and administers London’s 15 certified farmers markets) and also one of the leaders of Slow Food, London, look for farmers who offer more than routine foods.

“We have some Japanese farmers on the South Coast, who are growing lovely leafy Japanese vegetables,” she says, “And there are a group of Asian women growing Asian vegetables at the Spitalfields Farm (in London’s East End) who call themselves the Coriander Club. We would love to include them in our markets.”

Shape and Size

Supermarkets have ridiculously rigid specifications on the size and appearance of every fruit, she says, “Like apples need to have a diameter of 2.5 inches each!”

A report by Friends of the Earth, called ‘Supermarkets and Great British Fruit,’ gave the results of a survey done with 100 apple and pear growers. They said that supermarkets place “impossible conditions” on them. Any fruit with minor skin blemishes gets rejected, along with “apples that are either not red enough, or too red.” Fruit that is “too big or small” doesn’t make the cut, and neither do “pears that are the wrong shape.” As a result half the farmers agreed that often fruit is wasted, either left on the tree or orchard floor, or dumped. More than half of them said they have to apply more pesticides to “meet cosmetic standards.”

It’s not just fruit. Felicity Lawrence, author of ‘Not on the Label’ says that “For every 30 tonnes of carrots harvested, just 10 tonnes are used.”

Knobbly forked carrots, portly apples and vivid strawberries, however, just seem to fly out of the farmer’s vans at farmers’ markets into salad bowls and baking trays, so customers, obviously, don’t spend sleepless nights over plums and tomatoes that aren’t beauty-queen perfect. It helps that recipes by the new breed of ferociously pro-local chefs, now insist that great local ingredients are essential for memorable meals.

Not surprisingly – especially considering how well the markets are doing now – there are many enthusiastic farmers who want to join the markets. “We have150 farmers in active production, and three times as many on our waiting list,” says Cheryl, adding that they want to keep adding Farmer’s Markets to different parts of each city over the years. “We may run out of farmers, but we’ll probably never run out of the need for a market,” she smiles.
Old Romance

Clearly, for many people farming is becoming romantic again. Young Gina, an Australian moved two months to the Perry Court (family) Farm in Kent, which produces everything from fruit and vegetables to sheep and cereals, (“because this is so much nicer than the office!”). She is clearly enamoured of her new lifestyle despite, “getting up at 4 a.m., and doing a lot of heavy lifting!”

As for the people who shop at the markets, they do so for various reasons. To support the local economy or try new varieties of fruits, meats and vegetables. But above all, because they are in pursuit of tasty, healthy, natural food.

Home-grown

Ethical concerns also feature. Local sourcing of food, after all, reduces lorry and plane ‘food miles.’ FARMA, in association with SUSTAIN (a food and farming campaigning organisation) promoted a ‘Make Yours A Local Lunch’ in September, stating that the ingredients for an air-freighted Sunday lunch create 37 kgs of greenhouse gases. When bought from a local market, on the other hand, just 38.2 grams are released. That’s a dramatic reduction of 99.8 per cent.

Sue, a customer who buys her fruit and vegetables at the Finchley Market every Wednesday, says she does so because she wants “produce that hasn’t travelled 1,000 miles and more.” She adds, “I do deeply resent things coming from countries that are struggling to feed their own populations – like green beans from Africa. They’re beautiful, but why should land that could support their local population be used for beans for affluent Westerners? And the money just goes to middle men.”

Sue doesn’t buy imported fruit either. “It breaks my heart. When we have such lovely fruit here, why are we eating apples from New Zealand?

According to the Soil Association (a campaigning and certification organisation for organic food and farming in the UK), the UK imports over 55% of its food, at great cost. And some of this food “comes from countries barely able to feed their own populations: mange-tout peas from Zimbabwe, apples from New Zealand and potatoes from Israel.”

Besides, these markets encourage farmers to stay and work on their land, ensuring that the beautiful British countryside, with its grassy fields, liberally sprinkled with fat woolly sheep, stays the way it has always been.

But all this aside, perhaps the best thing about a farmers market is the chance to enjoy the oasis of warm ‘small town’ community feeling that invariably springs up as farmers lay out their produce, and exchange recipes and storage tips with each other and passers by.

On a typical day, you’ll see a cyclist discussing routes with the baker, as he balances his helmet and a slice of spongy focaccia on one side, while the feta cheese stall owner charms a wide-eyed tourist into tasting, then buying a hunk of his garlicky, crumbly cheese. Kids run between the rows of vegetables pulling and poking at them in fascination, and in a corner the delicious smell of barbequed burgers rises, as a farmer in a striped apron works his fragrant grill. The lady who makes mince pies, and intensely yellow lemon curd, hugs her dog as she patiently watches people investigate her laden trays.

And sales talk is both gentle and affectionate. “You can feel the difference here,” says Gina, holding out a basket of plump onions for a customer. “It’s in the richness of the flavours… It just tastes so much more real.