Summer is in full swing in late July here in the mountain states. Temperatures have been in the triple digits every day for last two weeks, the plants are suffering and the meals are quick, easy and farmers markets friendly. A plethora of berries, stone fruits, summer squashes, onions, garlic, potatoes, tomatoes, and herbs are to be found across the country in thousands of cities at farmers markets whether in the center of town under temporary tents or in the countryside under a farm stand sign alongside a dusty road.
I returned this week from my two weeks in the Pacific Northwest where the temperatures were blissfully chilly, waking one morning to dense fog and frosty marine layer. I didn’t complain. Driving back across I-90, I-82, and then I-84 through Washington, Oregon, Idaho and Utah, I watched the thermostat on my dashboard gradually increase from double to triple digits. I longed for those cool mornings and evenings, North Face jackets while sailing in late afternoons, and the peaceful lifestyle of coastal living.
But I have memories. Good memories. Memories of shopping at local farmers markets in Lincoln City, Oregon, where I bought green beans, Swiss chard, peaches, cherries, blueberries, and locally raised whole chickens which were grilled with garlic and herbs, Swiss chard was tossed with cannellini beans, the green beans were topped with garlic and olive oil, and the fruit for breakfast . Loaves of freshly baked breads, mini tarts of pecans and cashews and enormous cookies, all from a local bakery, filled out the meal very nicely.
Portland’s market at PSU is one of the country’s best. Only the finest of locally produced items are showcased, from flowers transformed into spectacular, inexpensive bouquets, to unique bakery products, locally foraged wild mushrooms, berries, artichokes, hazelnuts, honey and dozens of other booths offering tantalizing aromas and pristine produce. Coffee roasters and the Pine State Biscuits lines are ridiculously long, all waiting for their flakey pastry topped with mushroom gravy, fried egg, fried chicken, or just butter and jam. It’s worth the wait while sipping the rich coffee blends.
The Saturday morning market, overlooking Penn Cove in Coupeville is charming. A bell is rung at exactly 10am to announce the official opening of the market, when folks flock to the berry booth to snag their cases of blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, tayberries, marionberries and strawberries to be transformed into pies, cobblers, crisps, and jams. There are food trucks, freshly popped corn, woodworkers’ wares, nursery plants, homemade soaps and handicrafts. The produce is famously enormous – corn, squashes, beets, turnips, potatoes, and all that is colorful and in season. You can walk the market, held behind the local library on a grassy plot, in about 15 minutes, but the spectacular view from the hilltop beckons patrons to linger longer while sipping hot coffee and locally baked scones.
While driving back to Salt Lake City, I stopped in Yakima, where their Sunday market is held in historic downtown on asphalt streets. In the midday heat (1000 +) farmers proudly display their beautiful produce, for Yakima is the heart of Washington State’s agricultural magnificence. Of course I stocked up on Walla Walla sweet onions, gigantic heads of garlic, blackberries, yellow plums, peaches, and dined on Pad Thai with chicken from a food booth manned by a charming mother and son, working in the scorching heat, patiently stir frying all orders.
Traveling is all about the food for me. Talking with the locals who proudly display their products offers such a sense of pride in all that they raise, grow, bake. It’s heartwarming. Where is the best ice cream in Portland? Where are the mussels freshest and tastiest and where can one find a plate-sized cinnamon bun with raisins in Coupeville? Is there decent, wood-oven baked pizza in town?
I’m sharing some more of the recipes I developed after two weeks of coastal living. I could get used to that lifestyle. Very easily.
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