Yesterday morning I woke up when the sun coming through my curtainless bedroom window became too bright to keep my eyes shut any longer. I had turned the alarm clock off the night before. I got cleaned up, made a cup of coffee, and went downtown to the farmers’ market. I was on a mission. I need mass quantities of red, ripe jalapeno peppers for my homemade chipotle powder. I figured it was too early in the season to find what I needed, but it was an excellent opportunity to talk to some venders to see if they would have any later in the summer.
We don’t have the biggest farmers’ market, but it’s a pretty good one just the same. There are better than a dozen different produce venders. Some are commercial truck farms. They’ve got trucks or vans with their names and locations painted on the side. Others are family operations with three generations of gardeners working their scales. There’re even a few hippies selling herbs (totally legal, mind you) and organic stuff. All of them are busy bagging, weighing, restocking and talking. They’re real cheerful considering they’ve probably been out of bed since 0:dark thirty.
The produce is great. You name it, they’ve got it. Most of it is grown within fifty miles of the market. Four different kinds of eggplant. At least a dozen different peppers (alas, no red jalapenos yet). Mountains of vine ripened tomatoes. Cantelope, okra, peaches, onions, leeks, garlic, lettuce, plums, horseradish (the Korean family has at least four different varieties), asparagus, broccoli, blueberries, yellow squash, raspberries, zucchini, strawberries the size of eggs and so sweet they make your jaw hurt, several kinds of potatoes, cucumbers, herbs of all varieties either fresh cut or plants, on, and on, and on. There is also fresh baked bread, home made preserves and cut flowers. You can even get beefalo and “grass-fed” lamb.
The market is a good gauge of the availability of produce at roadside stands around the state. One family was selling “Clarksville peaches”. Clarksville is well known for its you-pick-‘em orchards. This means the peach crop is a good one and that the stands in and around Clarksville will be bustling. The peaches are cheaper the closer you get to Clarksville. I don’t begrudge the venders a little profit, but it’s a fact. One lady was selling “peaches & cream” corn. The sweetest sweet corn you’ve ever let past your lips. She was asking $.50 per ear. I know farmers who grow this corn. They sell it to people by the pick-up load who in turn sell it for $.10 per ear. It’s time to go to Burton’s in Tupelo and get some corn and to Johnson’s outside of Clarksville and get some peaches.
The arts-and-craft folks set up as well. There’s the lady selling isinglass next to the hippie selling five- and six-hole American Indian flutes. Each one comes with a little instructional booklet. The CDs are extra. I talked to him for a minute and he told me how easy they are to play. Something about not skipping a hole above or below the one that’s always shut. I got his business card. People sell hand made cutting boards, candles, scents, beads, stained glass, jewelry, you name it. It’s also quite the social place. I saw and talked to people I hadn’t seen in months. There’s even a great place to buy fu-fu coffee (or the real thing if you want it) and pastries.
It’s well worth the effort of rousing early and making the twenty-minute drive. I hadn’t planned to buy anything but lost control. While listening to my new Allman Bro’s CD (real loud, thank you) this afternoon I cleaned and chopped a mountain of veggies for a really big batch of killer gazpacho.
