Top

Setting

  • The Markets: Any of the farmers markets in Chicago that I work throughout the week.
  • The Orchard (aka the Farm): 81 acres in Southwest Michigan, about 2.5 hours from Chicago.

 

Cast of characters

  • Peter: My boss and chief fruit slinger.
  • Lupe: Farm foreman. Lives at the orchard and directs the day-to-day agricultural labor.
Twitter

Twitter Updates

    Powered by Squarespace
    RSS
    Archive
    Book picks
    • Epitaph for a Peach: Four Seasons on My Family Farm
      Epitaph for a Peach: Four Seasons on My Family Farm
    • The Gourmet Cookbook: More than 1000 recipes
      The Gourmet Cookbook: More than 1000 recipes
    • The New Best Recipe: All-New Edition
      The New Best Recipe: All-New Edition
    • The Fannie Farmer Cookbook: Anniversary
      The Fannie Farmer Cookbook: Anniversary
    2008 Categories
    2008 Tags
    Wednesday
    04Jun2008
    DateWednesday, 04 June 2008 at 02:29 PM

    "You don't believe me when I say I missed you, do you?"

    "Sure, Peter," I said. I was breaking down a tent while we talked. "I mean, if you say you missed me, I believe you."

    "Well, I did."

    I finished folding up the tent. It was my turn to say something. "What can I tell you? I came back for a third season, didn't I?"

    "You love it here," he said. "You had to come back."

    "That's not true. I could be working at Starbucks."

    "You'd get health care."

    "But no free fruit."

    Not that I took any home today.

    First day for strawberries and we sold out by 9.30am.

    Comment3 Comments | | |
    File under:
    Tagged:
    Thursday
    05Jun2008
    DateThursday, 05 June 2008 at 07:37 AM

    I took work home yesterday. I am tireless — tireless!

    Oh, and gluttonous — gluttonous!

    I went home with an experimental rhubarb tart. The unbaked individual tarts were sitting in a cooler with the frozen cider we sell (from last year's run). Peter plucked one out and told me to take it home and see what I thought.

    Sometimes we'll use the coolers to stash a few things we get for ourselves — some cheese or maybe some greens. Two years ago Peter was shopping at the market for the end-of-the-year farm party and cookout. He walked over to another vendor, lugged something back and stored it in a cider cooler.

    Customers sometimes reach in and grab their own cider from the cooler. But Peter pointed at a cooler. "Make sure no one opens that one," he said.

    "Why?"

    "Because there's a dead lamb in there."

     The rhubarb tart was great for breakfast.

    Comment1 Comment | | |
    File under:
    Tagged:
    Saturday
    07Jun2008
    DateSaturday, 07 June 2008 at 03:44 PM

    "That recipe you gave me last week was terrible."

    Good morning to you too, ma'am.

    It's so good to see people year after year — some of them. Many of them. But not all of them.

    Today was my first Saturday market and it was really great to see so many familiar faces. I made a point of asking the regulars how they had been, telling them that it was good to see them again.

    It was also great to talk to some people I didn't recognize. One woman asked me if I was the one who was there on Wednesday.

    "I don't know. Do I want to be?"

    "Oh, yeah," she said. "You told me how to keep the strawberries — line a plate with a paper towel and lay a single layer of berries on the plate in the refrigerator. It worked!"

    Another woman told me it took 1.5 pounds of rhubarb to make four cups of chopped rhubarb. Things like this don't always stay in my head from season to season — and I haven't had a chance to cook with rhubarb yet this year — so it's good to be reminded. I passed along the information to a few dozen people as the day went on.

    But I caught myself recoiling slightly when one woman walked up. Last year, she ruined my day. But grudges shouldn't carry over from season to season. So I'm giving everyone a clean slate.

    Which no one has blown yet.

    But it's still early.

    CommentPost a Comment | | |
    File under: ,
    Tagged: ,
    Monday
    09Jun2008
    DateMonday, 09 June 2008 at 04:31 PM

    Yesterday before coffee — before consciousness — there was the stench of rotting asparagus. I opened the door of the truck and the stink washed over me like . . . like a wave of rotten asparagus.*

    Asparagus is not a fruit. But this early in the season, we traffic in a few vegetables (rhubarb is the other.)

    The green stalks had been laid in stacked yellow bins. We had iced down the bins, but the ice melted and got the asparagus tips wet, turning them into a gooey mess. We spent much of the day salvaging serviceable stalks to sell. This meant digging through the bins, which meant covering my hands in thick, green asparagus slime.

    Ugh.

    * * *

    The farm got clobbered with about 4 inches of rain over the weekend. The melon field flooded, which could mean fewer melons come August.

    Double ugh.

    Tomorrow I'll see for myself how everything else fared. For the rest of the week, I'm staying on the farm, where there is more fruit than internet access. But I'll post somehow. And of course I'll say hello to Lupe for you

    * Your free, trial version of Fruit Slinger does not include actual metaphors. For a small additional charge, consider upgrading to the hackneyed similes edition.

    Comment2 Comments | | |
    File under: ,
    Tagged: ,
    Page 1 2 3 4 5 ... 22 Next 4 Entries ยป