I have a confession: I love farmers’ markets. But if you came to this site, you probably figured that out already (hint: blog name). I especially love the Cooperstown Farmers’ Market, the one five miles from my apartment, the one I praised in my last post. After the first months of buying as much produce, meat, and dairy as I could at the market, I was hooked. And then, get this. I asked if I could volunteer. At the time, sometime last March/April, I had big plans to apply for a Master’s of Sustainable Food Systems program, and I thought, with the encouragement of my better half, that volunteering for the market would be great thing to include on my resume.
Since then, life has happened and plans have changed, but I’m still volunteering. It’s funny, as sad as I was to lose a few of my Saturday hours, the experience has been a whirlwind of excitement, learning, and joy. And I realized that those missed hours at home are nothing compared to the hours I gain at the market. Volunteering has that effect. I would encourage everyone to volunteer for something that is meaningful to them, that makes their heart sing. Perhaps it’s with your local food pantry, or serving church suppers, or helping out at a daycare. Do something that makes you grow.
The greatest part of volunteering for a small non-profit like Otesgo 2000, which administers the market, is that I turn into a jack of all trades, helping out with whatever they need on that particular occasion. Sometimes that means overseeing the information table, and on other days it means assisting with events. Last Sunday, for example, was the 5th annual Local Foods ~ Local Spirits dinner at the market. The basic premise is that local chefs are rounded up and asked to create a small plate using local ingredients from farms within fifty miles. At the entrance, you grab a plate and make the rounds, visiting all the tables to see what crazy concoctions the chefs created. Then, if you’re not like me and can handle one alcoholic beverage without becoming the fool, you can choose from a variety of local beers, wines, and spirits. Cooperstown has a lot of start-up breweries, wineries, and distilleries…what does that say about us? I’m kidding! It’s all about the tourism!
It was an amazing event and for a good cause. I was happy to help in any way possible. Naturally, I sliced bread and nearly went into a fresh-bread-smell-induced coma, all to help organize the charcuterie tables (AKA snacking galore).
I also made a flying trip to a nearby town to pick up meats, salad, and pâté en croûte from Gaia’s Breath Farm. (I dare you to say that without feeling fancy as f*ck.) The pâté scared me, it was a whole world of food that I had not previously been exposed to, or had wanted to be exposed to for that matter because quite frankly, the idea gave me goosebumps and made my skin prickle. I examined the pâté. What was it? How was it made? What was its purpose? What were its political beliefs?? None of my questions were answered. I was still freaked out, but conquered my concerns and tried it, and it was the best thing I’d ever tasted, even if it happened to feel the Bern.
Hello, Mr. Pâté. Thank you for encouraging me to branch out in my food weirdness.
After we organized everything (cow and goat cheeses, breads, sauerkraut, mustards, relishes, pastrami, pâté, salad, grapes, and sausage) in an aesthetically pleasing way, I took my spot behind the two tables and waited for the floodgates to open.
I swear, people’s eyes lit up when they walked in. I can relate, food does that to me too. Several asked about the charcuterie assortment and many spoke highly of the pâté. Interestingly, people either flocked to the pâté or steered clear of it entirely when I told them what it was. It evokes strong reactions on both ends of the spectrum. I noticed that no one seemed to be in a rush, which was unusual for this fast paced world we live in. Everyone took their time to savor the charcuterie before meandering on to the chefs’ portions. And then many moseyed on back to my tables for more snacking goodness. After going around the building, folks sat down at hay bale tables with their friends. The buzz was loud, and with live music playing in the front, intoxicating (I promise I didn’t go near the bar at all during the evening). Guests were not only striking up conversations with their group, but also with the chefs. I witnessed warm embraces and heard the laughs of reunions.
Once Shannon found out I had been standing by the charcuterie for over an hour without eating, she told me to go grab food. “Are you sure?” I asked, as my stomach gnashed and made violent and disturbing sounds. “Yes,” she said. I would have cried if she had said no. Here’s what my plate looked like after I dashed around the room.
I made sure to grab Rabbit Rillettes on a Potato Pancake with Bacon Marmalade from Mel’s at 22. I know what you’re thinking: How could you eat a bunny?! I did. It was my first time. I’m not sorry. It was so good! I also grabbed a buttload of Lemony Garlic Kale Bean Salad from The Giving Bowl. I love kale. My better half refers to it as “hairy lettuce,” and while he’s not wrong, I will still grab it whenever I can. When the lady asked if I wanted a second helping, I said “Yes” without hesitation. Give me all the kale. And the latke-looking guy in the paper container is a Jalapeno Corn Fritter with Smoked Trout Cream from Alex’s Bistro. Pause. Now, I have bought smoked trout from Heller’s Farm before, and besides the grueling process of getting meat off without choking on the bones, it was mighty tasty in a potato, veggie, egg, and trout hash. But I never, ever would have thought to make a sauce out of it. Way innovative. Way cool. Way delish. Next to that on the right is Moroccan Lamb and Mediterranean Breeze Eggplant, courtesy of The Empire House. **Reliving this dinner is making me hungry.** Anyways, lastly, between the rabbit and the kale, is a slice of the Fall Harvest Quesadilla, made by the lovely sisters from Origins Cafe. (Their Future of Food Dinner at the Farmer’s Museum is next week, and I cannot wait to go with my better half.)
I didn’t visit half of the chefs present, and I was still stuffed after chowing down. But if I had had room in my belly, I most definitely would have picked up Coq Au Vin Blanc from The Horned Dorest and Chicken Parmesan Bites with Heirloom Tomato Sauce from Rock Hill Farm. Jesse raised the chickens and grew the tomatoes that he cooked. What a champ. I’m sorry I didn’t take one!! I blame my small tum. And all the kale.
There were several other small plates available too, ranging from soups to mini pot pies. And not pictured, because I was WAY more interested in shoving it in my mouth as fast as possible than taking a picture, was a divine Butternut Squash Cupcake with Maple Mouse and Candied Bacon from The Horned Dorset. It had the taste of a mild, sunny autumn day with a slight crispness in the breeze.
I’m thankful for the local farmers and the local chefs that teamed up to make the evening possible. “Farm-to-table” is generating momentum and excitement in our tiny sliver of New York State, and serving an active role in that push forward has been a blessing for me. We’re much more than baseball. Our agricultural bounty is great. And the people are greater. Amen.
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