New Amsterdam Farmer's Market

Feeling in need of a little evasion last weekend I set off to discover the New Amsterdam Farmer's Market, which sets up next to the South Street Seaport every Sunday. Just the thought of going to the market awoke all kinds of fond memories, and in the subway ride over my mind was flooded with the smell of roasting chickens, the sight of vibrant, red, sun-ripened tomatoes, the echoes of merchants inviting passers-by to taste their peaches and melons.

Here's the thing. I was getting French markets and American markets entirely confused. In France markets are just another way to do your groceries, though one with far more sensory appeal and human contact than visiting the grocery store down your street. You go to buy your loose carrots, potatoes and mushrooms, which you then bring home to transform. After visiting many farmer's markets in several states, I get the impression that ours display a pronounced consumerist angle. Out of all the stalls only about a quarter were devoted to produce, the rest were finished products that people could buy and use as they came: sandwiches, lobster rolls, tacos, jarred pickles, individual yogurt containers. Maybe this has something to do with the New York lifestyle, whereby people are less inclined to cook anyway and would rather pick up something convenient to eat. But as much as I felt rejuvenated leaving that farmer's market, happy to have seen visitors gawk at fresh bread and heard farmers speak passionately about their homemade jams, I left the market with bags empty of any fresh fruits and vegetables. That will be for my next visit to a French market. In the meantime, I know where I can get a fresh, delicious sandwich to take on a picnic under the Manhattan Bridge.