Father's Day Farmers Market

*Originally published on June 25, 2023

There are two types of farmers markets. The first is similar to the market I work at on Saturdays. It has outdoor stalls of local small businesses wishing to sell you their home-grown, locally sourced, and often a little more expensive jams, jellies, mustards, baked goods, produce, et cetera. This market is the quintessential market which, if you know what you're looking for, can prove to be invaluable in your search for good quality local goods. The second type of farmers market isn't really a farmers market at all. Instead, this market is air conditioned with produce boasting all the way from Peru. There are no cheery grandmothers there to sell you jam nor is there an independent coffee shop around the corner with lavender syrup as a flavor option. However, what this market does have is selection. You want it? They've got it. This market sources products from every region of the world and sells it to you in one building. Its patrons seek out a taste of home, wherever in the world home may be to them.

If you haven't noticed already, I'm going to be focusing on the second type of farmers market today. Because even though they don't source produce from the farm 5 miles from your house, you can get white asparagus, self-serve live crabs, and every part of an ox all in the same place. And if you remember that I'm from Atlanta, you know that I'm talking about the Dekalb Farmers Market. 

This Father's Day my dad requested a lunch out with his daughter, followed by a trip together to the Dekalb Farmers Market, and finish with me making dinner for my us with the ingredients we bought earlier in the day. After a grabbing some lunch at a new Mexican spot near the market, Dad and I made our respective shopping lists (his on paper, mine in my Notes app) and headed inside.

There are two rules of the Dekalb Farmers Market: 1) No credit cards are accepted and 2) you better know how to maneuver a shopping cart like your life depends on it. This week, the aisles were crowded with people shopping for both Father's Day and Juneteenth, creating traffic jams of carts likened to I-75 on a Friday afternoon, making the second rule I just mentioned especially important. The menu for the night was seared duck breast with crispy skin in a blood orange sauce, mashed potatoes, and a tomato salad with sherry vinegar dressing. I selected my duck breasts from the specialized duck stall, which sells every part separately as well as whole birds. The stall's neighbors do the same for quail, chicken, and turkey. Farther down, you can find red meat stalls and an entire section dedicated to live and freshly caught seafood. The produce section is filled with people hand-sorting through the best looking green beans while faces drop at the sold-out fresh corn booth. As I crossed off each item on my list, the patrons around me were doing the same thing. Just like my dad and I, families of various ethnic backgrounds are gathered close to their carts in search of their own Sunday feast ingredients. And just like my dad and I, they're ready to eat. 

In the checkout line, my Dad forgets the first rule of the market and it takes us 5 minutes to realize that we need to use a debit card. After apologizing to a fed-up cashier for our amateur mistake, we finally leave with our coveted ingredients along with some extra goodies, including a bottle of white port which we tried for the first time in Portugal last month. 

When we arrive home I unpackage the duck breasts, dry them with a paper towel, and salt them liberally on both sides before leaving them uncovered in the fridge for a few hours. As dinner approaches, I heat a cast iron skillet and boil some potatoes. I cook the duck breasts like Samin Nosrat's "Conveyor Belt Chicken" in her bestselling book Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat and heat some salted butter and fresh blood orange juice over the stove for the sauce. When the potatoes are done, I mash them and add butter, salt, and cream. I slice the tomatoes, add fresh basil, and dress them in sherry vinegar, olive oil, blood orange juice, and salt for a fresh tomato salad. My parents and I enjoy the meal outside on our deck to birdsong and perfect weather. While we eat, the families I saw at the market are doing the same thing.

When people say "food brings people together!" and I think that it's the most unoriginal statement in the world, moments like last Sunday make me pause and realize that the reason people say it so often is because it's undoubtedly true. Whether we're celebrating our fathers, freedom, or just another Sunday, it seems like a table of home-cooked food is the best vessel for collective, absolute enjoyment.