Another cool, crisp spring morning. The 90+ degree anomalies aren’t all that bad, but I do have a greater appreciation now of how that dictates a farmer’s workload as we head into the summer fruit harvests. More on that later.
I got there way later this morning. Well, late for me anyway. Sometimes the bed is just too perfectly warm, the husband too perfectly cuddly, and the motivation too perfectly lax. I didn’t so much as sleep in as ignored the morning as it slipped by. For reference, I usually get up sans alarm at around 5AM. Today, feet touched floorboard at around 7AM. Made a few lists. Watched some BSG (Ron Moore, I totally dig your writing, but dang. This episode hurt.) Ate some leftover pizza. By the time I was out the door, it was around 9AM. Shocking, I say. Shocking. Much as I’m not fond of crowds, I do get a kick out of the conversations going on. Early morning market goers, like myself, seem to be more food-focused. Friendly, but gabbing is generally limited to what looks good and who has seascapes out. The later crowd is definitely more social. Collections of strollers form suburban campfires where friends and acquaintances come and go, sharing info and sneaking peaks at each others’ market baskets. It’s a more relaxed group. Invitations are exchanged. Dinner parties are planned. I just liked watching the tides change.
Yup. More sugar snaps, for which I offer no apology. So. Good. They are in my lunches, every day, for a reason. I’m really going to miss these come summertime. I like the peas inside to have a little substance, or puff to them, rather than have them be those little embryonic pea nubs. Some of these were almost all puff and no shell though, which borders on overly starchy for my tastes. No more haphazard handfuls. I had to pick through these to get the ones I wanted.
I wandered over to Walker Farms this morning to have a chat with the owner, Joe. I’ve casually mentioned Joe here and there on this blog. But today I decided to spend some quality time with him, between customers, to pick his brain about how fuel prices were affecting him and his operation. He was more than happy to oblige me and gave me a really eye opening summary of his business, his employees, and his much loved produce.
Joe is probably one of only a few farmers who still lives on his main farm property. His employees range in age from teenager to octogenarian, the later having been an employee on his farm for over 30 years and the former a kid he knew before he was actually born. Gas, he says, is one of the biggest expenses he currently has. He runs through approximately 80 gallons of it a week, traveling to and from various farmers’ markets here in the southland and he estimates he’s probably paying about $500 more a week for fuel now than the same time last year. Come summer, he expects it to go up as he fires up a few extra refrigeration units on his property to keep his harvests from spoiling in the summer heat. He’s increased his employees’ pay to help them pay for the gas they need to get to and from work. And for the first time since he first started the farm as a one man operation, he’s watching his bottom line really carefully. When I asked if he was planning on raising prices on the food to accommodate the operating costs, he shook his head. Not yet, he said. But it was something he had talked about recently. But if gas prices keep rising, it’ll have to be revisited.
Joe is one of my favorite farmers at the market. He’s a good guy. He’s full of knowledge. And he shares what he knows freely with anyone who asks. Plus? He’s my persimmon grower come fall. Walker Farms. If you’re local, you’ll love him.
I love these. Little bitty Juliets. I pair them with chevre in salads. Que yummy.
I just liked this picture. The grower lives in the foothills above Pasadena. He’s like a blueberry preacher, convincing folk that just because we live in Southern California, we are not forsaken. We, too, may grow blueberries successfully, and reap with joy. Amen.
I haven’t really talked about citrus much lately, but trust me, it’s still everywhere. Joe had some really glorious looking, garnet-fleshed blood oranges out. Mike had something like eight different citrus varieties out. We call them winter fruits, but that’s really a bit of a misnomer. The navels right now? Bursting with sweetness.
Did the usual ‘after-party’ at Euro Pane, and ordered this fluffy topped lovely to go. And some croissants. And brioche. And a lemon bar. For JJ, of course.
