The Allentown Farmers Market has been an institution in the city since at least 1889. In the nineteenth century, the market filled a need in the city as a central clearinghouse for crops and livestock. Farmers from the surrounding country would bring their foods to market and resell them either wholesale or retail to merchants and customers.
Over time, the purpose of the Farmers Market has changed. With the entry of refrigerated trucking and supermarkets into the food distribution system in the twentieth century, there was no longer a need to locally source food. Fortunately, the market's central location in a dense urban locale made it convenient for mid-twentieth-century shoppers to frequent the market. In fact, the fairgrounds building expanded in 1958 up the ramped incline into a new "western" wing. The narrative of the market through mid-century was continued expansion of the retail market by supplying local meats, regional German specialties, baked goods, and produce.
Things began to change after the mid-century. Like so much related to the Lehigh Valley, suburbanization would change how the people of Allentown related to space and traditional culture. I experienced this shift personally. I was born at the 17th and Chew Hospital and was taken home to a house on the 2000 block of Allen Street. As a toddler, my mom or grandmother would walk with my brother and me the few blocks to the farmers market. Once there, we would shop for the entire week, picking up the fresh produce and meats that were needed. My brother and I also got to pick one treat. I would normally either get black licorice or show fly pie (Pa. German specialties) whereas my brother (always a precocious eater) preferred souse.
The end of my initial personal connection with the Farmer's Market happened in first grade when we moved to a suburban development in Parkland School District. A nondescript and sanitized super market replaced the varied sights and smells of the Farmers Market. Later, when Wegmans opened, I was thrilled to have assess to high quality produce and meats again, but the store lacked the regional specialties, sensuousness, and authentic bustle and interaction of the Farmers Market.
When I went away to college in Lancaster, Pa., I felt a door drop out from underneath me. The supermarkets close to campus were nothing like the Wegmans I was accustomed to and the Lancaster Central Market turned out to be a tourist trap that mostly sold trinkets. There were other farmers markets but, they were miles away from the city center. It was disappointing.
The Allentown Farmers Market, I feared, would have succumb to the same fate: tourist trinkets and memories of when the actual community came together to buy local foods. But, when I walked through the market for the first time since coming home, I was shocked. The pizza place was still there with the jungle juice I used to love as a child, the amish bakery, the candy store, the seafood sore, Burkholders, the spice man, Mr. Bills, even the vacuum cleaner guy. The fact that after almost two decades these shops still remained blew me away.
But, why keep going to the Farmers Market when other supermarkets are arguably closer? The first thing I would answer is cost. There is a reason why the stalwart matrons of Allentown keep pushing their diminutive carts up and down the aisles. The Farmer's Market stalls are run my real people who care about making an honest buck. For comparison, a bunch of Cilantro runs about $2.00 at a local supermarket. I found it at the Farmer's Market for $0.75. That actually starts to add up if you buy cilantro as often as I do.
The second reason is that the Farmers Market is staffed by people who make a living by keeping a local institution alive. That's important to me. People talk all the time about Allentown in the good-old-days. Here are people who day-in and day-out make their living by growing vegetables and raising meat like people have done for hundreds of years. They put their lives where a lot of people put a platitude. We ought to help them out as much as they help us out.
Third is the fact that you can still buy things at the farmers market that you can't get anywhere else. The old-timers opine about a time when things were different--when Allentown and the Lehigh Valley had an identity different from the rest of the United States--when we weren't just a suburb of New York City. Part of maintaining or reviving that cultural identity is having an attachment with the things that made the community different. Food is a big part of that. In fact, my main purpose in going to the market today was to buy pork to make the traditional Pa. Dutch pork and sauerkraut for new years day. My butcher had an excellent shoulder waiting with my name on it.
What you eat and what you think is delicious says a lot about you. When I, as a young child, moved to suburbia my favorite treat changed from shoe fly pie to fruit-by-the-foot. That change repeated millions of times over is how our tastes shifted from a somewhat wholesome substance like molasses to high-fructose-corn syrup. Additionally, the quality of what is available at the farmers market is often higher than what is available at supermarkets. If you have never had a real piece of slab bacon or had chicken soup made from a stewing hen instead of an insipid Perdue roaster, you are missing out.
Fourth, the market is a place where cultural exchanges happen in happy ways. Demographically, the Lehigh Valley is changing--its not the strict German enclave it once was. You might think this is good or bad, but it is reality. We can either fight that reality or looks for ways in which different peoples and different cultures can teach one another.
While I was shopping, I stopped by one of my favorite food stands for a bowl of Vietnamese Pho (a type of light soup). The stand has minimal seating so I had to ask a stranger if I could join his table (he was eating alone). He said yes and we got to talking. He had just moved to New Tripoli from Texas and also loved food. We had a great conversation about places to eat in the Valley and things to do. Its weird to think about: a Texan and a Pennsylvanian talking about Thai food over a bowl of Vietnamese Pho in the Pa. Dutch shrine that is the farmers market. But it happened and it was awesome. There are also Mediterranean food places, BBQ places, mexican food, a pizza bar, and any other number of quick places to grab a bite.
Fifth, the food is mostly local. My only complaint about the Farmer's Market is that it no longer is entirely stocked with local produce and meats. But, doing so would be impractical since come February no one would want to subsist on a diet of only turnips and cabbage anymore. Having said that, most of the chicken and pork is local and so is much of the produce if you know who to ask (and do ask). Suffice it to say, this is still the closest you are going to get to the farm without sourcing everything directly.
Finally, there is the bustle. One thing I miss about living in a big city is the hustle of the place. There is an energy and rythem to a city that has always attracted youth and spurred poets. The Farmer's Market has that energy. The people behind the counters are willing to talk; customers line up at counters and money is still typically exchanged with actual bank notes; people collide and laugh or sometimes look shiftily away. Its actual and authentic in a way that the mad press of other supermarkets is not. And more often than not, the energy is brimming out of people old enough to be your grandparents. You have to go there to experience it.
Last but not least, there are the traditional Pa. Dutch confections. At some point there will be a whole post about the Valley's doughnut culture. But, for now, enjoy.
