As a kid, I knew that almost
everything I ate came from just minutes away, and I think I assumed
it was that way for everyone. Pacific Grove, where I grew up, is
a little town on the Central Coast of California, and just a breath
away from the giant Salinas Valley, one of the largest areas of
agricultural production in the country, with endless fields of lettuce,
artichokes, garlic, carrots, strawberries, and Brussels sprouts.
When I was 19, I went to Vermont to live on a friend's organic
farm and work as a baker and line cook at a local restaurant. I
was shocked on my first day when I checked-in the produce delivery.
The carrots were from Salinas, the strawberries from Watsonville,
the garlic from Gilroy, and so on. I couldn't believe it. My friend
was growing all of these things right down the road from my home,
and the restaurant was getting them from clear across the country.
One of the chefs at the restaurant had worked in a resort in the
Caribbean and said that, even there, the strawberries they used
were from Watsonville. Maybe he was pulling my leg, but it seems
absurd enough to be true. From then on, I realized I had better
learn more about where my food was really coming from. But once
I opened my eyes, the news wasn't pretty. I began learning tidbits
of information about biotechnology, the hidden health costs of pesticides,
suburban sprawl, development of farmlands, and factory farming.
Knowledge wasn't power in the case of this education. Knowledge
was making me want to subsist only on nuts, berries, and rain water
that I collected myself. Ultimately, I learned that eating local,
sustainably-grown food is the first step in taking back personal
power, and ultimately political power. I found that shopping at
my local farmers' market was much more empowering than the anonymity
of my neighborhood Safeway, or even my local natural foods store.
Buying food at the farmers' market is a political act, and eating
locally-grown organic food provides a practical way of saying "no."
No to the massive movement of multi-national corporations to globalize
the world economy. No to companies like Philip Morris who earn ten
cents to every dollar spent on food in this country. And no to strip
malls, gulping up farmland with insatiable hunger.
There are successful farmers' markets in almost all of America's
cities and in a growing number of small towns that are striving
to make a connection between growers and consumers and working to
bridge the ever-widening gap between the rural and urban communities.
The rise in popularity of the markets and their subsequent success
shows a number of things about the American public.
We are getting more conscious about eating fresh fruits and vegetables.
We are interested in supporting locally-grown produce. We enjoy
going to a friendly, lively place to shop. We like to meet the people
who are growing our food. Farmers' markets are also benefiting from
America's conscious choice to start buying organic. According to
the Organic Trade Association, sales of organic food in the United
States grew from $1 billion in 1990, to $7.7 billion in 2001. But
typical of the United States, large corporations dominate the market.
"Industrial Organic" is a new term coined to define companies
like Horizon Organics, a dairy company that is a $127 million public
corporation. Other names in the business are Cascadian Farm and
Cal-Organics. These companies, though beneficial because they dispel
the myth that it is impossible to produce organic food in large
quantities, are also jeopardizing the small sustainable farmers
that sell at our local farmers' markets because it is the large
companies that are setting the prices. Given the option, I will
go to a farmers market rather than buy organic produce at my local
grocery store. I am however, grateful for the choice, because no
matter how corporate these industrial organic companies become,
they are still producing massive quantities of food without the
use of pesticides. When I buy food at the farmers market, I know
it has not been shipped across the country. It has not been grown
using the products of bio-tech corporations like Monsanto, who are
monopolizing the world's food supply by patenting seeds that have
been in existence for centuries.
Most importantly, when I buy food at the farmers' market, I meet
the grower. I have a connection, an interaction, and a place to
express my gratitude.
It is this connection which holds the deeper meaning. Food is the
common denominator of all life on this planet, and buying my food
from the people who have grown it helps me see the interconnections
between my life and theirs and, on a larger scale, the connection
between all producers and consumers.
Jenny Kurzweil is a writer/editor based in Santa
Cruz, California. She has recently completed a manuscript that combines
interviews of farmers who sell at a successful Seattle farmers'
market with a social/cultural history of agriculture in the United
States. She can be reached at jennykz@earthlink.net.
