At 61st Street Market, time is on chef's side
It's 6 a.m. and I just got up. I brush my teeth and I'm off to the market.
I love shopping at farmers markets. The food, the people, the air -- it is awesome. It is sometimes my only chance to get outdoors. For me, it is the best outdoors there is. It has smells, sights, sounds and tastes, especially when one of the nice people hands over a smidgen of their produce to sample.
(Courtesy)
What is your favorite farmers market? The American Farmland Trust, a national group dedicated to protecting the land, wants to know. Go to www.farmland.org/vote and click your pick. The online contest runs through Aug. 8. The winning markets (large, medium and small) get tote bags to give to their shoppers.
For more on the 61st Street Farmers Market, go to www.experimentalstation.org.
One market in particular really intrigues me. I was so taken by it, I came back to the restaurant talking about it during the whole service.
Last August, I was asked to do a cooking demonstration at the 61st Street Farmers Market, located between the Hyde Park and Woodlawn neighborhoods. It opened last year.
Upon arriving at the market at 6100 S. Blackstone, I saw a place quieter and more secluded than other farmers markets in Chicago and filled with fresh smells. Tomato season was under way and they were slicing them for tastes. I walked by the stands and said hello and got big smiles.
I saw a man walking around barefoot on the hot cement with a very serene look on his face. He was looking into the trees and holding the leash of a very majestic salivating dog. I asked the market manager who he was.
"Oh, that's Dan Peterman, the artist that helped all this come to be, along with his wife, Connie Spreen," the astute young woman told me.
I needed a few pieces of equipment for my demo, so she took me into a structure that was beautiful and open, with an almost ancient feel. It reminded me of a monastery kitchen in Bavaria, where I spent several years training.
It had a large communal table, a big sink, a beautiful floor and a wood-burning oven. The building had suffered a fire in 2001, so everything was new, yet felt old.
This was the nonprofit Experimental Station, home to community gatherings, a bicycle shop, a small cafe and this beloved farmers market.
I met Connie Spreen, who talked quietly of her studies of American Indian culture, something I had wanted to study, too. But I need to get back to the stove and cook the demo, I thought. Plus, it's Saturday night, a full house at the restaurant. No time to chat.
But I made time. At other markets I rush to get my produce, but here, I simply slowed down and sank right into the moment. That artist, Dan Peterman, had the right stuff. I understood his peacefulness and I loved it.
I got all my produce for the demo at the market, and introduced myself to each purveyor. Some I recognized from the Green City Market in Lincoln Park -- Seedling Farms, Growing Power, Genesis Growers.
Others, such as the Urban Farm Project, I didn't recognize. This is a project where organic farmers turned an abandoned corner of the city into a community farm.
Some of the sellers looked at me with big eyes. Who is this guy? Why is he here with that silly white jacket?
I asked for some sage, and got a look. "What's sage?" she asked.
"Darling, it's the stuff you're holding in your hand," I said.
What a humble, beautiful place. It reminded me of why I cook. Sometimes I need to be reminded. I love making food for people, but I also love teaching people the simplicity of good food.
The woman smiled and handed me the sage, and I was off to the demo.
Alex Cheswick is the chef and owner of May Street Market, 1132 W. Grand.