Cooking Radishes

Several years ago, overwhelmed by the number of radishes showing up in my CSA box, I did a bit of research into whether or not you could cook them. I'd never seen a cooked radish, and I was accumulating more of them than I could happily eat as part of my--almost daily--salad.

I browsed through several cookbooks but no recipes called for cooking them, so I continued to eat them raw. I suppose I could have just gone ahead and tried, but I didn't.

Several weeks ago my employees started bring them back to the kitchen from the markets: some of the farmers who we buy from were offering them, and the price was right. So we cut them up and cooked them, and we found them both tasty and colorful. We've been using them ever since, and I've done some subsequent research and learned that cooking them isn't nearly as strange as I had once believed.

I strongly believe that, if the sustainable food movement is going to really make a difference in the way we source food and use the resources that go into producing food, we've got to challenge preconceptions about all kinds of things, from what we discard to where we shop. This experience with the radishes gave me the opportunity to discard a different kind of preconception: one that dictated that there was only one acceptable way to eat radishes.

Enough

The past few weeks it's hit home for me that my sales this summer aren't going to be quite what I had hoped they would be. Most markets are down about 10% compared to this period last year, though Lake City is down by 50%. Wallingford is about the same as it was a year ago, and Queen Anne and the U District are up a bit, for reasons that have mainly to do with location and visibility. But my overriding realization is that, even though my sales won't meet my projections, there will be enough. If things continue as they have been, I'll still be able to cover my expenses, support myself, pay my taxes, save a bit for the winter, and pay off what I borrowed to move into my new kitchen. And that's what really counts.

Apricot Season

This is Jerry Piptone. He grows apricots (and peaches and plums, and garlic, and tomatoes.) His wife sews him some great shirts using fabric with produce motifs. This one took the cake.

Berry Conduit

I love strawberries and raspberries but I can't eat them. I get a feeling in the pit of my stomach like I've just swallowed a brick. I used to be able to eat just a couple at a time, but two years ago I ate a single strawberry--the first of the season--and I regretted it, so I don't even try anymore.

The berry vendors at the market tend to trade very generously because their product is so perishable-if they don't sell it today, they can't sell it tomorrow. And I try to never turn down a trade with another vendor so it's not uncommon for me to find myself with a flat of berries that need a home.

When I had my storefront I used to hand them out to to worthy customers. This year I'll be leaving them on my friends' porches. It's a rough job, but someone has to do it.

Goodies Mediterranean Market

I stumbled across a wonderful new store the other day. Goodies Mediterranean Market is located on Lake City Way just north of 135th St., on the west side of the street. When I drove by it struck me as such an incongruous place for a little grocery that I had to stop and check it out.

I was impressed by the selection of spices and Middle Eastern products, and the produce prices were extremely reasonable. And there was some interesting stuff I'd never seen anywhere else before, like freekeh--a cereal made from young wheat--and green almonds. And I picked up half a gallon of Lebanese olive oil (I love Lebanese olive oil) for under $20.

Opening Day at the Mercer Island Farmers' Market

Sunday was opening day at the Mercer Island Farmers' Market, which just started up in August of last summer. The organizers had called me repeatedly about vending there last year, but I was skeptical about a market starting so late in the season and, besides, I had my hands full with Ballard on Sundays. But once the market did finally start, I heard from various vendors that it was one of the best markets around and I decided to figure out a way to do it this year, whatever it took. Fortunately, my business is able to produce and store a lot more product in our new kitchen than we could in our old space.

From the moment we pulled up this past Sunday folks kept telling us how happy they were to have us there. It made me realize that the independent markets have a very different feeling from the ones that are run by organizations running multiple events in various parts of town. People have more of a pride of ownership at these independent markets. I suspect we'll be seeing more of them over the next few years, especially now that the mayor has dramatically reduced the street use fees for farmers' markets. (Now we just have to get the health department to reduce their fees.)

The Mercer Island Market is on a street adjacent to a park, which gives folks a place to linger. And many did, in fact, stay for a while even though the day was punctuated with thunder and lightning.

Bottom Feeding

I call my purchasing strategy "bottom feeding," after those resourceful sea creatures that live on whatever filters down to the ocean floor. Like them, I try to make use of foods that a more wasteful group of consumers treat as surplus. I let the farmers at the markets where I vend know that I'll be happy to buy items that they have left over at the end of the day, perfectly good produce that would otherwise end up on the compost pile because there's a new batch ready to be harvested. I name the price, and I'll take just about anything they're willing to sell to me at that price.

It can be tricky to approach people to propose this type of arrangement. It's especially important to let them know that I know that their produce is worth more than I'm willing to pay. But even though I'm not willing to pay much, I try to do everything I can to make it worth their while. I've bought cases of greens even when I'm not sure how I'm going to fit them in my cooler, and I'm often willing to take a risk on oddball stuff, like the time I came back from a market with 3 cases of purple cauliflower.

I had one farmer tell me that he's selling more at the markets because of this arrangement. He used to think in terms of trying to sell out, so nothing would be wasted. As a result his table would look empty during the last hour, and he wouldn't sell much. Now he keeps his table fully stocked for the duration of the market, customers buy more because it looks better, and he sells the leftovers to me.

It takes faith to be a bottom feeder. You have to be willing to work with whatever comes your way, and have backup systems for the occasions when you can't get as much as you need. But I find it a rewarding stategy not just from a financial standpoint, but also because I'm doing my part to lessen the unconscionable amount of food that gets wasted in this country.