Lunching at the Little Tokyo Farmers Market
Jul. 31, 2009 4:01 pm
Updated: Aug. 10, 2009 2:49 pm
Relocating is one of the most stressful events endured by modern man, inducing insomnia, binge eating, temper tantrums and the nagging feeling that something important is getting lost in the shuffle. Between our desperate attempts to cram a house and workshop's worth of furniture, tools and various project supplies into a two bedroom apartment and our somewhat frantic search for work and the sudden rash of car problems, I was reaching my breaking point. "That's IT," I said on Wednesday, in a slightly sweaty, but still triumphant manner to my equally sweaty and more downtrodden boyfriend, "we are going to a farmers market, it." That night we slept while visions of heirloom tomatoes danced in our heads.
Thursday morning I leapt out of bed, conquered a small village of errands and off we set for the Little Tokyo farmers market, to which I had never been, even though it is within 2 miles of the area I've lived for most of the last 8 years. "Is she really that lazy?" you may be asking yourself, and while the answer to that question is most certainly a resounding "yes", such slothful tendencies cannot truly be blamed for my previous ignorance of such an amazing farmers market in my vicinity. The real culprit? My own assumption that farmers markets are mostly alike - differing in size and quality, but essentially offering the same things to the same groups of like-minded people. Luckily for me (and for you, dear reader), I was wrong. As I am discovering, each farmers market offers something unique, adapting as necessary to fill a niche particular to its location and time slot.
For its size, the Little Tokyo market only has about 5 or 6 different fruit stands and a couple of veggie stands. Much of the market is, instead, comprised of various food vendors offering a wide variety of delicious and healthy choices, all to be enjoyed at the multitude of tables and chairs set up under the shady canopy of trees on the front lawn of LA City Hall. The market runs from 10am to 2pm, offering a business district - which has been inexplicably avoided by good, inexpensive restaurants - a luscious lunch experience for a small price while bringing together a diverse group of people whose previous interactions were most likely walking past eachother on the sidewalk while talking into their cell phones. In the relaxed, jovial atmosphere of the farmers market, however, I saw little cell phone use - instead people connected over the tastiness of certain fruit samples, the spiciness of the raw sugar elixers, the excitement over the tiny old fashioned candy booth (ginger candy, anyone?), and the sharing of community tables. Starving, we ordered from the first vendor we saw, and when our apple gouda chicken sausage sandwiches crossed the counter into our eager hands, we wasted no time procuring a table and devouring our treats.
Sadly, parking in Little Tokyo is difficult at best, and the boyfriend had to run to add money to the meter while I wandered, happily noshing on whatever was offered me. I enjoyed a fresh citrus-y bite of delicious salad from a vendor offering up wonderful combinations of salad greens, fruits and nuts (I don't remember the name, but I will post it when I do), and sampled succulent pluotts, peaches, raspberries, strawberries, blackberries and blueberries, refreshing bites of dark heirloom tomatoes, unbelievably smooth sundried tomatoes and creamy sheep's cheese, and the richest, most divine flan from Flan King (www.Flan-King.com).
As I looked over the bustling crowds of excited munchers and nibblers, it struck me that such crowds would be greatly diminished if this market offered meals and produce in inverse proportions, and that its popularity (as evidenced by the sometimes overwhelming lines) as a lunch spot in all likelihood increases the number of fresh produce purchased by these 9-to-5ers, even though the volume of produce offered is small. This made me smile, and for a moment, the distended boxes, the mountains of clothes and tools, the hibernating car, and the lack of income faded away like a distant dream as I reached for the sample of sweet potato flan.
What's this?