Brown Bread, Beer and Chocolate - A Walk Through Dusseldorf, Germany

Copyright 2010 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

If It Can Work in San Francisco, It Can Work in New York

I know that lately I am obsessing over organic vegetables and farmers markets. Maybe it’s the summer season. Or maybe it’s because obsession tends to be a slight issue with me (see series of posts on mini-bundt cakes). At least this obsession has plenty of fiber.

So, when – by chance – I find myself to be staying just steps away from the historic San Francisco Ferry Plaza Farmers Market (for once, the corporate travel agent has hit the bull’s-eye), I am compelled to take a stroll.

As I recently reported, the good folks at New Amsterdam Public in New York are working hard to get a permanent market established at the now-vacated site of the Fulton Fish Market. While this will probably continue to provoke endless debate in New York, San Francisco seems to have figured it out. The Farmers Market has been in operation since 1992 as part of the restored Ferry Plaza, which had been all but destroyed in the 1989 San Francisco earthquake. Today, the Center for Urban Education about Sustainable Agriculture (CUESA) hosts a range of education programs and twice a week, the people of San Francisco stream into the market for their pick of the most heavenly produce found on the face of the Earth.

A walk through the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market is a garden of earthly delights. I am tempted by luscious, blush-colored nectarines larger than tennis balls …

Luminous sunflowers line the pavement …

Bundles of crisp, orange carrots catch the eye …

Sweet California strawberries nearly burst with juice …

Just-picked salad greens sparkle in the morning sun …

And, a kaleidoscope of multi-colored peppers dazzle …

In the CUESA education center, the text on a placard offers food for thought:

“The Farmers Market contributes to quality of life … It provides us with fresh wholesome food, rich in vital nutrients. It also offers a gathering place where people from all walks of life, both urban and rural, come together to form a community.”

Are you listening, New York?

©2008 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Sowing Sustainable Seeds of Change in Lower Manhattan

Robert LaValva nurtures a vision to establish a permanent indoor public market at the historic Fulton Fish Market in Lower Manhattan. Each season, he cultivates the idea with enthusiasm, care and resolve and watches as it begins to take root.

If the foot traffic on this sunny and warm Sunday morning at the New Amsterdam Market is an indicator, the seeds have been sown, and hordes of New Yorkers support LaValva’s dream. The vendor stalls are just beyond South Street tucked under the FDR Drive in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. People are flooding the corridors between booths for this, the third meeting of the New Amsterdam Market. The seasonal event is – in effect – a dress rehearsal, aimed at building support for a permanent market to showcase artisanal products and regional, sustainable foods sourced within 500 miles of New York City.

Organizers have their eyes on the now-abandoned Fulton Fish Market as the ideal location. The New Market Building was constructed in 1939 by Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia. The structure belongs to the public, but in recent months some developers have entered the picture and are discussing the possibility of a hotel and retail space in the same vicinity.

The area just in front of the building is lined with rows of booths hosted by enterprises with delectable names – The Bent Spoon, Flying Pigs Farm, Pampered Cow, and the people’s popsicle, to name a few. As soon as I enter the market, I spot an old friend. Chef Karen Bornarth (pictured below in green), my instructor for “Classic European Breads” at the French Culinary Institute is with a colleague selling her crusty, bronze Miche – large, peasant-style whole-grain loaves. She’s enjoying the market day and the entrepreneurial atmosphere. “We don’t usually get to sell our bread at the school,” she laughs.

At the booth manned by Saxelby Cheesemongers, a gentleman hands me a sample sliver of raw cow’s milk cheese from Jasper Hill Dairy in Vermont, called Constant Bliss. It is named after a figure in the Revolutionary War. “Here he is, reincarnated,” the gentleman tells me as he hands me the slice. Constant Bliss is aptly named – smooth and creamy with a distinctive, peppery finish.

The Queens County Farm Museum is selling a variety of produce and I spot a neat row of jars filled with amber honey. I ask the woman at the booth to describe the flavor of the honey, and to my surprise, she confesses that she has never tried it. But, then she clarifies that she has only been working at the museum a short time, and the honey was just extracted from the 11 hives on the property less than a week ago. I purchase a 6-ounce jar. “Let me know how it tastes,” she says.

I wander the aisles sampling pickled asparagus from rick’s picks on Chrystie Street, and tangy sharp cheddar from Farmstead Fresh in Winfield, PA. All around me, elbow-to-elbow, there are old people, young people and babies in strollers sampling cheese, examining fresh cherries and tasting oysters. The community has come out in full-force to meet bakers, producers, cheese makers and butchers, and has brought along its appetite for regional foods. My bag is now bulging with delicacies that will sustain me through the week and beyond, and my wallet is nearly empty.

I manage to spend a few moments with Robert LaValva, director of the not-for-profit, New Amsterdam Public, the organization created to bring the market to fruition. Dress in a green-checked shirt and jeans, he is a tall, slender man with jet-black hair and a soft-spoken manner who is quietly passionate about his vision.

LaValva says he is very happy with how the day is shaping up. “Nearly all the vendors showed up, and we managed to set up on time.” He is pleased at the turnout. “It shows that people really care for the idea. These market programs are part of our heritage.”

He describes the idea of regional food systems as “a real emerging movement” and tells me that recently he even met several young women who want to become butchers and are working hard to develop their upper arm strength so they can lift large cuts of beef. “It’s an amazing time of change.”

It has taken New York some time to come to grips with what LaValva calls “this civic, urban thing called a public market.” Europe has many established markets, as do several cities in the United States. LaValva sees a future that will draw on New York’s agricultural heritage and its rich history, ultimately benefiting the economy of the region.

“New York once had such a market,” he tells me, “but it was less out of philosophy, and more out of necessity,” as purveyors would gather at central locations in the city to sell their wares.

“We are standing on the site of the city’s first market, established in 1642,” LaValva says. The location along South Street was a convenient gathering place for farmers from Brooklyn and the agricultural areas that surrounded the original boundaries of the city.

While numerous Greenmarkets are well-established in New York, LaValva tells me the greenmarket structure doesn’t necessarily work for every farmer’s business model. “It’s clear there’s a need to go beyond,” he says. “If we want regional food systems, we need to find other outlets.”

I ask LaValva how long it will take before his vision is realized. He pauses. “As long as it needs to,” he smiles. “Markets take time to grow.”

©2008 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Breakfast at Fisherman’s Wharf

The streets are deserted. I’m conscious of a solitary jogger, an occasional dock worker, and a cold, salty breeze buffeting me off of the San Francisco Bay. A sea gull dips in my path. Del Monte Square, part of the historic Cannery Row, is still asleep.

I need to get some breakfast before the day of meetings begins.

Along Fisherman’s Grotto – a sequence of stalls and restaurants offering the victuals of the sea – plump, gangling crabs sit on ice, and proprietors prepare dozens of bulging lump crab sandwiches for the tourists.

A few steps down the road, I stop to gaze in the window of the Boudin Bakery.

Boudin invented San Francisco Sourdough bread in 1849. There are stacks of crispy golden bread that would make a fine breakfast. There is even a loaf in the shape of a crab.

The crusty crustacean is tempting, but bread for breakfast seems so, traditional. Between the chill in the air and the romantic feel of the wharf I think – Why not go for the real thing? So I turn on my heels and head back towards Fisherman’s Grotto to Guardino’s where I order up a piping hot cup of clam chowder.

The thick, chunky stew is deliciously creamy and loaded with lumps of briny clams. There is a hint of pepper, and I sense of splash of sherry. I stand on the wharf and devour it, a lone seagull my only dining companion.

By land or by sea, breakfast is indeed the most important meal of the day.

© 2008 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Ottawa Farmers Market

We are blessed with another luminous summer day, and Jill recommends that we get an early start to find the best available produce at the farmers market for our midsummer locally-grown Canadian Feast.

The Ottawa Farmers Market occurs each Sunday, May through October at Landsdowne, just near the site of the 1875 Provincial Exhibition. The centerpiece of the fairgrounds is a shimmering exhibition hall, in the style of the great crystal pavilions, known to residents as “The Cattle Castle.” A flying cow sits atop a weathervane, a testament to the area’s agricultural roots.

It is already sunny and hot, but numerous shoppers are traversing the rows of peaked tents and exploring the wares of local farmers. Jill suggests that we take an initial stroll through the entire market so we can get a sense of what’s available and so we don’t buy the first thing we see. I am clutching a scratch pad with notes on all the ingredients we will need. The menu has been designed to evoke a summer day – crisp and brilliantly-colorful with notes of sunshine, pure rain water, and earthy terrain.

Certain things remain on my “to-do list” for the visit. I have yet to spot a genuine Canadian Mountie and the search for an authentic butter tart continues. There are some pastries available in the market but no butter tarts. We cue up for bread, and Jill selects an enormous rustic loaf that we will use for crostini. Salt scatters as the baker slips the loaf into a white paper bag.

For a fleeting moment I wonder if Jill’s focus on vegetables is some kind of postscript to the menu of the Canadian Feast last March where there were very few home-grown vegetables to be had. Now, there is a bounty of seasonal produce to choose from.

We seek out bulging fava bean pods that we will use for a jade-green crostini spread.

We marvel at the palate of produce available. One vendor offers cauliflower in shades of intense purple and orange.

Crisp green beans will mingle with earthy scarlet beets and goat cheese for a roasted summer salad.

As we are about to depart, a new shipment of raspberries arrive, just picked from the field, glistening and still warm to the touch.

Laden down with summer fruits, vegetables, artisanal breads and even delicate edible flowers, we now have everything we need for preparing our locally grown Canadian feast and head for the kitchen.

©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Chelsea Market:


Cooking virtually is fun, but sometimes, a little in-person culinary diplomacy is in order. The eternal search for good food brings me and Jill from Ottawa to New York City for some of the best ingredients and eating on the planet.

We arrive at New York’s Chelsea Market in late afternoon on the day before the big storm, and enter the brick façade of the former site of the National Biscuit Company. If the name sounds familiar, National Biscuit was later shortened to a catcher brand name, and yes, they make Oreos. This place must have good karma.

We’re keeping a sharp eye out for celebrities. Jill’s friend -- who wants to be known as “Medusa” -- will probably consider the weekend a bust if there are no celebrity sightings. She’s opted for a power shopping trip downtown while we explore Chelsea.

If a food market is a chef’s fantasy, our first stop would make a kid’s sweet tooth jump for joy. We stop at Eleni’s, resplendent with walls painted a shocking Barbi-pink and cake stands stacked with hundreds of luscious cupcakes in a full palate of playful pastel colors. It looks like the inside of a Crayola Crayon box.

We wander through the Italian market. I pick up bags of chestnut flour, almond flour and hazelnut flour for future pastry projects. On a healthier note, Jill purchases Farro wheat.

The halls are lined with burnished brick and stone, and are reminiscent of a journey through a Gotham City railway station. There are shops and stands tucked into every nook and cranny. A crowd of people are learning to do the tango in the lobby outside the Food Network studios.

We step into a seafood shop that smells of brine where we marvel at the ice mountains crowned with lobster, blue fish and flounder fillets.

I’m obsessed with the cupcakes. We stop back to Eleni’s and indulge in a few bites of mini-cupcakes with swirled pastel tops, just to tide us over.

We head out of the market and nearly collide with actor Victor Garber. He looks intense -- a man on a mission. Medusa is going to be awfully upset that she abandoned us to go shoe shopping. We set off in the direction of Greenwich Village. There is a Mac and Cheese - the specialty at Deborah on Carmine Street -in our future.

©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved