Brrr! This farm, just over the border in New York State, will not be at the market, but many others will.

My concept of “nearby” has been, shall we say, enlarged since spending a year living out in the vast desert southwest. Just to get married at City Hall, Dano and I and our families had to drive up and over a mountain. Things are far apart out there.

It’s kind of like that out here in the Massachusetts hinterlands, too — I find myself driving far and near, and up and over mountains many more times than I’d ever thought possible as a kid growing up on a flat sandbar sticking out of the side of New York.

So when I say I’m heading to the Winter Fare Farmers’ Market in nearby Greenfield on Saturday, well, you have to take the whole “nearby” part with a grain or two of salt. At just shy of 40 miles it’s kind of nearby, sure — there’s just that mountain in the way.

Maybe it’s time for an ironic bumper sticker on the old Subaru: Will travel for local foods.

Winter Fare Farmers’ Market

Saturday, February 6 2010, 10 AM – 2 PM
Greenfield High School, 1 Lenox Avenue, Greenfield MA

Two years ago, in the weeks and days leading up to Thanksgiving, it seemed a distinct possibility that I’d turn our new car’s odometer over 100,000 miles in my quest to locate decent produce and other interesting edibles. “Eating locally” in this northwestern corner of the Berkshires on the cusp of winter — and before we had a CSA subscription — was not really an option, and I’d not yet learned to stop pining for the easy access to exciting, fresh fruits and vegetables (meyer lemons, anyone?) that I’d had in New York. The produce at the nearby grocer was either ransacked or wilted, and the stuff at the big mega-marts was likely coated in toxins I didn’t want in my house, much less in my body. So, into the car I went, and off into the distance I roamed, in search of decent provisions. At this point, I barely remember what we ate — just that I drove and drove and drove and drove.

This year promises to be different, with the advent of the Berkshire Grown Holiday Farmers’ Market in Great Barrington and Williamstown. Oh, joy of joys — it’s just a mere five miles from my front door. I could even ride my bike. (But I’m not sure what the vague “Holiday” thing is about; I mean, is there some other holiday in late November, or does this mean that there will be a market at Christmastime, too? Can anyone confirm?)

The Holiday Farmers’ Markets will take place on November 21, 2009 at the Williams College Field House on Latham Street in Williamstown (10 AM – 2 PM) and the old firehouse on Castle Street in Great Barrington (9 AM – 1 PM).

It’s no small shakes, either. This is the real deal. Check out the vendors scheduled for the Williamstown market:

Appletree Hill Organic Farm, Baby Cakes, Berkshire Organics, Berle Farm, The Berry Patch, Chocolate Springs, Cricket Creek Farm, Elf Parlor, Gala Restaurant in partnership with Green River Farm, Hidden Pasture Farm, Jaeschke’s Orchard, The Market of Pittsfield, Mezze Catering, Mighty Food Farm, Naga Bakehouse, Peace Valley Farm, Sidehill Farm, Sleeping Dog Farm, Sol Flower Farm, Sweet Brook Farm, Wild Oats Community Market and several independent bakers and florists.

The presence of Sidehill Farm alone makes me nearly weep with gratitude. Driving to Ashfield to pick up salad greens? Not this year.

Join me, please, and celebrate Thanksgiving with food from home. For more information, visit the Berkshire Grown website.

Walloomsac Farmers’ Market
Saturdays, May 9 – October 31, 10am – 1pm
Tuesdays, May 12 – October 27, 3:30 – 5:30pm
Bennington, VT

Then I spotted the sign, the tall A-frame chalkboard emblazoned with a list of more vegetables and fruits than I could have imagined: kale, garlic scapes, red leaf lettuce, Boston lettuce, zucchini, pattypan squash, broccoli, peas, chard, rhubarb, strawberries, cherry tomatoes, the list went tantalizingly on and on. I stared, jaw agape, and dumbly pointed in the general direction of the coolers. I might have said something like, “Gblargish?”

After a year in the desert, the presence of fresh, locally-grown foods can really shock a person.

It didn’t matter anyway, because the one vendor at the Williamstown Farmers’ Market (they should really change that apostrophe, because, at least on that day, it was just one farmer) was sold out of nearly everything, save for broccoli and Boston lettuce. And ever-present zucchini.

The nice thing about living in a small New England town, though, is that people dole out advice. Here, they offer commentary — helpful tips — as frequently as people in Arizona avoided eye-contact before scurrying back into their air-conditioned double-wides.

“Market starts at eight,” said the farmer-vendor woman. She was wearing a gardening apron. I wondered if this bounty was the result of an overproductive backyard garden, or if she did this for a living. It’s so green and misty up here; anything seems possible. It was ten-thirty. Clearly we had missed the boat, or the tractor, or whatever. We learned that there would be eggs next week. We bought whatever she had available, and dutifully stuffed it into our canvas New York City Greenmarket bag. (It may be nostalgia, but Union Square is still the best farmers’ market I’ve been to, but we’ll see if that changes once I hit one in Vermont.)

I cooked up the broccoli the other night with some olive oil, garlic, pepper flakes, and salt (you know, the best way to cook up some broccoli). It was so green. It was green like the definition of green. It meant green.

Maybe it was our low-energy bulbs, I don’t know. It was some fantastic broccoli.