Thursday evening, my roommates and I headed down to San Luis Obispo’s famous Farmer’s Market. While it wasn’t out of the ordinary for us to go on the prowl for some tasty tri-tip on any given Thursday night, this Thursday was special. Besides from never having gone to Farmer’s during the summer before, we had more than just deliciously over priced tri-tip on our mind. We were going to buy fresh, summer produce.
Artichokes, corn, squash, apricots, peaches, nectarines. Everywhere we looked, there was delicious looking produce, just begging to be bought. After walking the length of Higuera Street and scoping out our options, I pushed my way to the front of the pack at the Hayashi stand.
Hayashi always has the best selection and largest variety, in addition to being from right down the road. I quickly grabbed a bunch of celery (marked $1.00), and started heading down to the artichokes. As I sifted through the bin, one of the men working the stand started a conversation with me. He was clearly one of the owners and eager to talk one of his customers.
He asked me what I was looking for and what he could help me with. I told him that I was looking for a couple of big artichokes and jokingly added that all of his seemed to be pretty small. He laughed and said he would go look to see if he had any bigger on the truck. I started thinking about how just talking to someone can go a long way, especially with farmers. He returned and said they were all about the same size, so I should take two for the price of one (they were marked $0.75 each, so yes, I was getting them for about $0.38 cents at this point).
I of course thanked him profusely. I mean, the man was practically giving me his produce for free! He then saw that I had grabbed a zucchini and a crook neck squash ($0.75 each as well). Hayashi told me that those were pretty small too, so go ahead and grab another of each. He then told my roommates to each grab an artichoke and throw them in my bag (yes, four artichokes for about $0.75).
He asked if we wanted anything else. At this point, even if I had wanted more, I would have said no and avoided risking taking advantage of this new friendship. I told him I was ready to pay, and he started doing some quick calculations. When he told me the total, I had to do a mental double take. For one bunch of celery, four artichokes and four summer squash, he wanted only $2.75!
$2.75! We walked away pretty impressed with ourselves- we got farm fresh produce for under $3.00, just because we took the time to talk to the farmer and formed a relationship with him. I felt a little guilty, like I had taken advantage of him. But farmers don’t do anything they don’t want to, and he wouldn’t have given me practically free produce if he hadn’t wanted to.
I guess the moral of this story is this: Farmers are people too. They like to have conversations with the people around them and will take care of the people they like. People have a hard time putting a face to farmers, simply because they have never met one. Trust me: they are very real, very nice people.
I know we can’t all go to farmer’s markets and befriend our local friendly farmer over the artichoke bin, but we can think about our farmers. When you are perusing the produce aisle and selecting your veggies or fruits, you can think about the real person who produced those products, just for you.
If you can though, go to a farmer’s market. Not all the farmers will charge you pennies for their products, but they will all talk to you. Ask them a question or make a joke with them, and they will quickly engage you in conversation. Farmers love nothing more than talking about their products and how they are produced and sharing their story with those interested.
Well, I guess I will step off my soap box now. But before I do, I hope you will think about the real farmer that is responsible for your full refrigerator and strike up a conversation the next time you head down to your local farmer’s market. You never know, you might get the entire produce aisle for $2.75 and forge a friendship while you’re at it.
