New Amsterdam Market

Last weekend a friend and I restarted a long-running debate about the merits of trying to eat sustainably, locally, and ethically. Naturally this circled back to Michael Pollan, and we discussed various arguments made (by others) as to his elitism, or the elitism of this "movement" in general.

Look, some chard!

(Disclaimer: I have only read one book by Michael Pollan, which was The Omnivore's Dilemma, and have never read any other book on the subject. Given my high-strung nature and tendency to jump on bandwagons, I think one of these per year is enough for me, unless I want to pull a Gwyneth and go macrobiotic and maybe live in a yurt in Alaska and make my own cheese, which actually doesn't sound so bad, but I digress...)

This post, in any case, is not about that. But it does inform it. Let's just say I try to do my part; try to buy locally and seasonally, from farmers markets and good butchers, try to avoid peaches in winter (not hard) and grain-fed beef (harder). I'm slowly changing my lifestyle, and it gets easier with time, and much easier with these fantastic bike saddlebags I bought on my trip to Amsterdam.

Xzibit would be proud.

Sorry; I take this seriously, I really do. Of course I also take my bike seriously, and like to trick it out like a Berliner at Christmas... but I recognize that these choices are easier to make considering the community in which I live (Brooklyn) and in the socio-economic class to which I belong (non-car owning but able to afford $11 maple syrup on occasion). I can't leave my apartment without tripping over a local-free-range-organic-sustainably-slaughtered-by-Amish-farmers carrot smoothie, so buying peaches in season is pretty damn easy. If I lived in certain areas of Detroit, it might not be.

Which brings me to this: The New Amsterdam Market. Where the Greenmarket leaves off (most prepared foods, greater New England area), the New Amsterdam market jumps in. With vendors hailing from as far as Maine (Port Clyde Fisherman's Co-Op) and as near as the outer boroughs (Queens County Farm Museum, speaking of which, could you hire me?), hawking everything from boule to Brandywines, it's a foodie heaven for New Yorkers.

A lot of the goods are also really expensive, not-even-comparatively speaking.

The market aims to emulate 19th century markets in New York, along with Les Halles in Paris, shut down in the 70s for being a rat-infested hovel. Well, I assume that part will not be recreated, but... I love almost everything about this market. I love the produce, the piles of baguettes, the samples of smoked duck melting in the summer heat, the free tastes of local wine, the rich smell of roasted porchetta. I love that it's hidden behind the tourist mall that is South Street Seaport, with a view of the Brooklyn Bridge shimmering in the background, and is filled with equal parts strollers and bike baskets.

I swear, there were lots of strollers AND bike baskets.

After twenty sweaty minutes in June I left with the aforementioned $11 bottle of maple syrup (small), a $10 tub of rendered duck fat (which I do think is a good deal, all things considered), and, as the pièce de résistance, a $9 heirloom tomato. Which nearly made me cry. $9 for a tomato? A single tomato? I breathed quickly, I considered putting it back. It had already been weighed; I had already put my grubby hands all over it. It had leaked a little bit on my bag. I tried to justify it by considering the fact that it could be made into lunches for two (it actually ended up stretching to three). I tried to quell the voice in my head that told me "You have never had an heirloom tomato to rival a good Jersey red. AND YOU KNOW IT." But still it came home with me, cradled in my lap like a baby on the subway.

Expensive fucking tomatoes.

So the market will remain look-but-don't-touch for the most part, for me. I may buy locally, but I'll mostly stick to collards and kale. I may buy sustainably, but I'll try to bake my own bread. I may dress my pancakes with small-batch syrup, but I won't eat them every Sunday (this has additional benefits in the waistline area). This all isn't to say that the market isn't a great idea, that it doesn't further The Cause in a positive way, that I'm not extremely happy that it exists. I am. I don't think it's elitist, I just don't have the pockets for some of its better products, is all. Please forgive me, and try the free sausages.