Farmers Market?
An Ethnography
For this ethnography, I visited a small organic grocer called Fresh Thyme, Meijer, and the East Lansing Farmer’s Market.
When I arrived at Fresh Thyme I noticed that the sign out front said “Fresh Thyme Farmers Market.” This intrigued me because this store looked unlike any farmer’s market I had ever seen. It more resembled an American grocery store. It was slightly smaller than the Meijer on the other side of town but much larger than the East Lansing farmers market, which consisted of 15- 20 shade tents and tables, a set up gets broken down and rebuilt every Sunday. Temporariness is reflected in all aspects of the farmer’s market, which will open for the last time this year next Sunday. Selection is seasonal. When I asked the woman who was selling herbs if she had any basil, she told me that basil doesn’t survive after the end of September in Michigan. I did find the basil I needed at Fresh Thyme.
As I contemplated my preconceived notions of what a farmer’s market looks like, I walked in Fresh Thyme. There was an in-house bakery, a deli that made fresh sandwiches and pizzas, a sushi bar and a salad bar. There was a particularly large selection of wine as well as an unusual number of dietary supplements and medications. The store offered a wide variety of organic goods and surplus items. While you couldn’t find a pack of non-organic brand Oreos, the foods presented aren’t strictly those of a non-processed healthy diet. Both at Fresh Thyme and Meijer the workers typically only interact with the customers at check out and when asked to help find specific items. The people frequenting the store generally didn’t speak to each other. They weren’t coming here to meet people they were coming to get their groceries and possibly would leave without speaking to another person.
Fresh Thyme fits well into Michael Pollan’s description of a grocery store in “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” where he talks about its indirect ties to nature. Though this particular grocery store might attempt to appear closer to nature, it’s not without sections that “take a field guide to identify the resident species.” (p. 15) In this “Farmer’s Market,” of sorts I find aisles dedicated to chips and snacks, as well as a freezer labeled “breakfast,” that houses popsicles and ice-cream. It is home to a plethora of items that are far separated from their farm beginnings. As I walk home I wonder how this market could be lumped into the same category as the one I saw in a park on Sunday. Google defines a farmer’s market as “a food market at which local farmers sell fruit and vegetables and often meat, cheese, and bakery products directly to consumers.” The words Farmer’s Market printed on Fresh Thyme’s sign are no worse than the quintessential happy farm picture printed on so many highly processed foods. It is meant to make us feel better about buying things that might be further from the farm than we’d like.
The next stop on my journey was Meijer. The bus stops across the street from my dorm and brings me right up to the doors of the store. I note how easy it was for me to get here, as I walk inside. For many people, it isn’t so easy to get to a grocery store. Yet I, a student with unlimited meals provided daily just steps from my room, can simply hop on a bus and 30 minutes later have a shopping cart full of fresh produce, or cookies and chips if I so choose. This ease of choice and affordability is what people long for in the so-called ‘food deserts’ of America. As “Bringing Good Food to Others: Investigating the Subjects of Alternative Food Practice,” points out, people want choice. Julia Guthman writes about her students’ experiences working with alternative food practice organizations that provide healthy food to people with little access to grocery stores. One of her students pointed out that these alternatives were unpopular because they were indeed alternatives, “what they really wanted was a Safeway in their neighborhood.” (p.440) What gives me any more right to choose whether or not I want to buy myself fresh or processed foods, and why is it so easy for me to get to both options when it is so difficult for whole other groups of people. These questions must be answered before we start to ask why so many Americans go hungry and yet so many (often the same people) are obese.
I already know the variety of items I will find at a Meijer, so I focus on where I find certain things. I have heard it said before that the easiest way to shop for healthier foods is to walk the perimeter of the store. I notice that the produce and fresh meats and cheeses are along the edge but so are ice-cream and alcohol as well as premade frozen dinners. And in order to find toilet paper one must walk past aisles of processed sugary cereals.
You won’t find premade frozen dinners or processed cereal at the East Lansing Farmer’s Market, though. While you may find less than healthy things, like cider and doughnuts, or the amazing raspberry chocolate cupcake I had, you can be sure that anything sold there had a much shorter journey from the farm. It is clear that this farmer’s market is local farmers selling directly to consumers. I never met the person who grew the basil I bought at Fresh Thyme, but I had a lovely conversation with the woman who grew the spaghetti squash I bought on Sunday. That’s the best part of this option, the interaction. Live music played as people perused the produce, conversing with the vendors as they went. After telling my friend that going there was fun and we should do it more often, I pondered the prospect of enjoying grocery shopping. While it is unlikely that a person could do all of their shopping here all of the time, it is a fun alternative to the “Air-conditioned, odorless, illuminated by buzzing fluorescent tubes… American supermarket.” (Pollan p.15)
After recognizing the small grocer’s farm-focused call to health conscious people, the inequity of my experience at Meijer, and the lack of a single non-white person at the farmer’s market, some cultural patterns within food became clear to me, including a flaw in my favorite of the three locations. People don’t shop at farmer’s markets for practicality, they go for the experience, an experience that might be more enjoyable for a particular group of people. African Americans like the people described by Julia Guthman’s students, sometimes find farmer’s markets to be “white spaces,” and feel uncomfortable there. Where had a great time, others might have felt excluded and out of place.
Sometimes it takes looking at familiar places with detached and inquisitive eyes to identify their cultural underwritings. These hidden messages though are where we will find solutions to the world’s biggest problems.
When I arrived at Fresh Thyme I noticed that the sign out front said “Fresh Thyme Farmers Market.” This intrigued me because this store looked unlike any farmer’s market I had ever seen. It more resembled an American grocery store. It was slightly smaller than the Meijer on the other side of town but much larger than the East Lansing farmers market, which consisted of 15- 20 shade tents and tables, a set up gets broken down and rebuilt every Sunday. Temporariness is reflected in all aspects of the farmer’s market, which will open for the last time this year next Sunday. Selection is seasonal. When I asked the woman who was selling herbs if she had any basil, she told me that basil doesn’t survive after the end of September in Michigan. I did find the basil I needed at Fresh Thyme.
As I contemplated my preconceived notions of what a farmer’s market looks like, I walked in Fresh Thyme. There was an in-house bakery, a deli that made fresh sandwiches and pizzas, a sushi bar and a salad bar. There was a particularly large selection of wine as well as an unusual number of dietary supplements and medications. The store offered a wide variety of organic goods and surplus items. While you couldn’t find a pack of non-organic brand Oreos, the foods presented aren’t strictly those of a non-processed healthy diet. Both at Fresh Thyme and Meijer the workers typically only interact with the customers at check out and when asked to help find specific items. The people frequenting the store generally didn’t speak to each other. They weren’t coming here to meet people they were coming to get their groceries and possibly would leave without speaking to another person.
Fresh Thyme fits well into Michael Pollan’s description of a grocery store in “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” where he talks about its indirect ties to nature. Though this particular grocery store might attempt to appear closer to nature, it’s not without sections that “take a field guide to identify the resident species.” (p. 15) In this “Farmer’s Market,” of sorts I find aisles dedicated to chips and snacks, as well as a freezer labeled “breakfast,” that houses popsicles and ice-cream. It is home to a plethora of items that are far separated from their farm beginnings. As I walk home I wonder how this market could be lumped into the same category as the one I saw in a park on Sunday. Google defines a farmer’s market as “a food market at which local farmers sell fruit and vegetables and often meat, cheese, and bakery products directly to consumers.” The words Farmer’s Market printed on Fresh Thyme’s sign are no worse than the quintessential happy farm picture printed on so many highly processed foods. It is meant to make us feel better about buying things that might be further from the farm than we’d like.
The next stop on my journey was Meijer. The bus stops across the street from my dorm and brings me right up to the doors of the store. I note how easy it was for me to get here, as I walk inside. For many people, it isn’t so easy to get to a grocery store. Yet I, a student with unlimited meals provided daily just steps from my room, can simply hop on a bus and 30 minutes later have a shopping cart full of fresh produce, or cookies and chips if I so choose. This ease of choice and affordability is what people long for in the so-called ‘food deserts’ of America. As “Bringing Good Food to Others: Investigating the Subjects of Alternative Food Practice,” points out, people want choice. Julia Guthman writes about her students’ experiences working with alternative food practice organizations that provide healthy food to people with little access to grocery stores. One of her students pointed out that these alternatives were unpopular because they were indeed alternatives, “what they really wanted was a Safeway in their neighborhood.” (p.440) What gives me any more right to choose whether or not I want to buy myself fresh or processed foods, and why is it so easy for me to get to both options when it is so difficult for whole other groups of people. These questions must be answered before we start to ask why so many Americans go hungry and yet so many (often the same people) are obese.
I already know the variety of items I will find at a Meijer, so I focus on where I find certain things. I have heard it said before that the easiest way to shop for healthier foods is to walk the perimeter of the store. I notice that the produce and fresh meats and cheeses are along the edge but so are ice-cream and alcohol as well as premade frozen dinners. And in order to find toilet paper one must walk past aisles of processed sugary cereals.
You won’t find premade frozen dinners or processed cereal at the East Lansing Farmer’s Market, though. While you may find less than healthy things, like cider and doughnuts, or the amazing raspberry chocolate cupcake I had, you can be sure that anything sold there had a much shorter journey from the farm. It is clear that this farmer’s market is local farmers selling directly to consumers. I never met the person who grew the basil I bought at Fresh Thyme, but I had a lovely conversation with the woman who grew the spaghetti squash I bought on Sunday. That’s the best part of this option, the interaction. Live music played as people perused the produce, conversing with the vendors as they went. After telling my friend that going there was fun and we should do it more often, I pondered the prospect of enjoying grocery shopping. While it is unlikely that a person could do all of their shopping here all of the time, it is a fun alternative to the “Air-conditioned, odorless, illuminated by buzzing fluorescent tubes… American supermarket.” (Pollan p.15)
After recognizing the small grocer’s farm-focused call to health conscious people, the inequity of my experience at Meijer, and the lack of a single non-white person at the farmer’s market, some cultural patterns within food became clear to me, including a flaw in my favorite of the three locations. People don’t shop at farmer’s markets for practicality, they go for the experience, an experience that might be more enjoyable for a particular group of people. African Americans like the people described by Julia Guthman’s students, sometimes find farmer’s markets to be “white spaces,” and feel uncomfortable there. Where had a great time, others might have felt excluded and out of place.
Sometimes it takes looking at familiar places with detached and inquisitive eyes to identify their cultural underwritings. These hidden messages though are where we will find solutions to the world’s biggest problems.