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

Barbara Kingsolver's Locally-Grown Miracle

Locally-grown food is all the rage these days. But, beyond a lovely salad or a succulent piece of grass-feed lamb, do you think you could exist for an entire year only on food that you'd grown yourself, or purchased from your neighbors?

Since my neighbor is an electrician, I'd probably starve.

Barbara Kingsolver is the author of a variety of best-selling works of non-fiction and fiction, including The Poisonwood Bible. Her book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life chronicles a family experiment. Kingsolver, her husband and two daughters chose to follow a diet consisting almost exclusively of locally-grown food for an entire year.

Where does your food come from? How much does it cost to get it to your table? How would you handle the challenge of eating locally?

Kingsolver has an edge up on most of us. She lives on a farm in Virginia, located in an agricultural region of Appalachia. In the book, she covers a variety of familiar themes that have gained prominence recently in the press such as industrial faming and the concept of food miles. But unlike Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma, which at times felt overwhelmingly depressing, Kingsolver manages to weave hope, insight, and practical advice into every chapter. She is thought-provoking and inspiring and sometimes just a wee-bit-preachy, but the food sounds so delicious that it doesn’t really matter much.

The family is able to eat locally with great success, and in some months generates enormous yields. During the summer months they are simply overrun with zucchini. The details of daughter Lily’s home-grown egg business are fascinating, and Kingsolver’s “Vegetannual” – an imaginary plant that sprouts delicate vegetables in the spring and hard-skinned vegetables in autumn is an effective image to reinforce the inherent qualities of seasonal produce. Late in the book, the author does admit to keeping emergency boxes of macaroni & cheese for finicky guests (You go girl!) and while I could have done without the lengthy prose on turkey sex, it does reinforce how deeply involved you can become in the annual rhythms of agriculture. Kingsolver’s descriptions of raising and slaughtering animals for food are sobering but pragmatic. The family plans and strategizes over menus obsessively, and manages to keep freezers stocked with their yields that carry them through the lean winter months. And, they save a boat load of grocery money in the process.

The primary effect of the book is that it does get you thinking hard about food choices, and I am now much more conscious of those tiny labels that identify where my produce was grown. The possibility for change can sometimes seem overwhelming when you stand in the produce aisle and scan the mountains of fruits and vegetables that were shipped from thousands of miles away. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is less a manifesto, however, and more a handbook for thoughtful food choices. It features a cornucopia of resources woven into the text on sustainable agriculture, food policy, recipes and ways to locate and support farmers markets. There is a companion website which includes a link to an extensive site called Local Harvest. Here I learned there is indeed an organic community supported garden, a sustainable farm, and a restaurant serving local and organic produce not five miles away from my home. So, perhaps the ideal of revolutionizing my diet – even on the primarily urban East Coast – is not that far-fetched.

Just last night, I took note of a report in Time Out New York that a gentleman named Robert LaValva – the co-founder of a nonprofit organization called New Amsterdam Public – is looking to open a public market at the former Fulton Fish Market in New York. The goal is to offer sustainable food sourced from within 500 miles of New York. They’re hosting a prototype event called “Wintermarket” at the South Street Seaport on Sunday, December 16th. We may find that people like Barbara Kingsolver and her family will some day be looked on – not simply as a curiosity – but as pioneers, and their actions may eventually contribute to the fruition of projects like the proposed New Amsterdam Market.

It is possible that one family can foster a miracle.

© 2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved