THE EDIBLE YEAR

       

                                                                                    THE EDIBLE YEAR

Local berry season is now!

   Unlike our ancestors, and unlike other parts of the world, we’re so lucky to have reliable access to food, 365 days a year. I blame my weight issues on my primitive DNA: if there’s food around, I better eat it, because there might not be food tomorrow! Of course intellectually I know that’s not the case, and like a responsible person living in earthquake country, I’ve stockpiled emergency food stores, hedging against the Big One that they tell us is overdue.

   Being part of the food distribution chain, however, I understand the rhythms and the flow of produce from our region, and also from the far distant farms and orchards where we source much of our abundance in winter. The growing season in our climate is defined by the time of year when conditions are right to allow for plant growth and food production, from the earliest crops that emerge in late winter, to the final crops that are harvested in late fall, and by these two ends of the spectrum, I’m principally referring to asparagus and apples. There are other early and late crops, of course.

   With decades of fruit-marketeering under my belt by now, it seems that as a society we’re increasingly losing touch with the reality of seasonality in food. It’s not our fault, it’s that staggering abundance we exist with, where nearly every thing is available all the time. If California orange season is over, we have only to look to Australia for juicy citrus. When local asparagus gives up the ghost when temperatures climb too high in the fields of Sunnyside, it can be sourced from South America.

   Strawberries are a year ‘round commodity, something we would never dream of not having here at the market, but that wasn’t always the case, and I well remember when strawberries were a one-and-done in the month of June. It’s a blessing, all this abundance, but despite more people taking up food gardening than ever before, we’ve obliterated the boundaries between what’s sustainable for our region, and the abundance that modern infrastructure provides.

   It’s just marvelous to have New Zealand apples on our tables in spring, but if you ask me when the “best” time to make applesauce is, I’ll say that depending on your favorite locally grown apple, that time is between August and October, when it’s local apple season, the apples are just-picked-fresh, the price is best, and you’re contributing to the local farm economy with your purchase.  I’m so looking forward to the Washington Galas, Gravensteins and Transparents that will start showing up here in August. The sweet juicy crunch of a sun-warm Gala! The sublime apple crisp I’ll make with tart, flavorful Gravensteins!

   We have resources to help folks figure out what’s locally grown and in season and when: our free newsletter is on the checkouts, freshly written each month, and they’re archived to a certain degree on our website (www.yakimafruitmarket.com); we have free local crop calendars available, we showcase the local and the seasonal on both our Instagram and Facebook accounts, and of course, we welcome your visit to the market! Read the signs, look at the boxes, smell the things—those are all ways to know what’s gloriously local and in season.

   I know I’m a dumb bunny about a lot of things, and when I’m out of my depth, I rely on what people knowledgeable in their respective fields have to say. Couldn’t tell you anything about car tires, so I trust that my favorite tire store knows what they’re talking about. Don’t know much about air conditioning units, so after late June’s heat spell, I called our alumni employee who now works in heating and cooling, and I took his advice. I’m not saying we give perfect advice, or that surprises in crops aren’t a routine occurrence, but if you call us, we’ll tell you the info we have about a crop, and it’s usually straight from the farmer’s mouth. Today, July 19, a woman on the phone angrily called my husband a liar when he told her that the local asparagus season was over. Would be funny if it wasn’t so ugly.

(This was taken in April during local asparagus season) 

   All of 2020 was taken up dealing with the ramifications of COVID 19 and Sound Transit’s threatened land grab, so I didn’t have any bandwidth left to post anything here. The daily struggle was real and arduous and emotionally draining, but by the grace of God we had no cases of COVID in our family or among our employees, and Sound Transit decided that the highway didn’t need to be made seven lanes wide by taking our property after all. 

   Mid summer here in 2021, I feel like we’re all newly hatched butterflies, emerging from our cocoons, looking around at all this beautiful abundance. May we understand it, and never take it for granted.

                                                                                     Fruitfully yours,

                                                                                           KARIN