I remember my final year of undergrad had a very distinct rhythm of work, school, thesis, homework, and (if there was time) social life. An important component of these last three things revolved around a weekly visit to the Sarasota downtown farmer's market, which was held right next to the bus depot. My friend Alex, who was the only other proud morning person in our friend group, and I would go to the farmers market every Saturday morning. If we were feeling adventurous, we would take the bus straight into the heart of the market (but if we were lazy and slept in a little too late, we would head there in her car). "Going to the farmers market," by the way, mainly consisted of getting empanadas and coffee. These empanadas are the best I've ever had; a delicious, seasonally changing mix of fillings surrounded by homemade bread. Alex and I would gather together our brunch supplies, sneak them into the nearby public library, and spend the morning working on our theses, doing homework, and applying to grad schools and grants, all while dodging the one librarian who always yelled at us for eating inside the library. The empanadas and Alex's company, a near constant stream of interruptions, encouragements, and jokes, made my stress about school and our futures infinitely more bearable. After spending a few productive hours hitting the books, we would leave the library with enough time to buy late-day, leftover produce at a discount. Usually, we would return home around 3:30 or 4 and start making a leisurely dinner with whatever we had bought, right around the time the rest of our friends were just starting their days. Whenever I think about applying to this program, or finishing up the last bit of work on my undergraduate thesis, it is always intertwined with memories of the farmers market, fresh, local coffee, and delicious empanadas. Our Saturdays had rhythm and purpose, a mixture of work and pleasure, and it all revolved around the farmers market.
Therefore, this week's readings about farmers markets, and their importance in building social relations and networks as well as contributing to the local food system, are very real to me. Gillespie et al. explain how the weekly and yearly change of the seasons is reflected in the farmers market: "The regular weekly rhythm of a farmers market is itself marked by fare that shifts with the progression of the seasons." For me, this progression of the seasons also meant something else: I was graduating and moving on to the next major stage in my life. Pumpkins were just starting to appear when I finished up the last chapters of my thesis and turned in my grad school applications. The market was chilly but the kale was plentiful the month I defended my thesis. And when I found out I got into FSU and Alex was accepted into her PhD program, we celebrated with fresh-cut flowers, spinach empanadas, and iced coffee in a warm spring right before a typically hot Sarasota summer. The farmers market, more than just being a hub of activity, food distribution, community revitalization, and social interaction, was our weekly reminder that outside of our daily reality of work, school, applications, and stress, another world was constantly humming along and waiting for us to join.
Taylor, I have to agree with you about the special memories that are tied to farmers markets. As a child, my parents shopped at the Swap Shop, which was an eclectic mixture of sorts. It had the largest farmers market in Fort Lauderdale, a circus with live animals, an arcade, a food court that included food options from various parts of the world, a market that was three to four times the size of the Civic center's parking that housed miniature garage sales, a car museum, a miniature version of a fair and at night it turned into a drive in movie theater with 18 screens. It was a one stop shop for everything you could imagine. While my mom would shop in the farmer's market, my siblings and I would check out the circus or the miniature fair area and on Friday nights for $7.00/car we could watch any movie we wanted.
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