Sometimes a humble humour columnist needs to step up to the plate. For 83 years, The Australian Women’s Weekly has guided you through the minefields of family life – fashion foibles, finger food and forbidden pleasures.
Today, on behalf of the magazine, it’s my responsibility steer you through another F-word – farmers’ markets.
Just like the poodle perm in the mid-1980s, they’ve sprung up everywhere, and just like that unfortunate perm it can all go horribly wrong.
There are unspoken rules about farmers’ market participation and this is the first time somebody has been brave enough to speak out. At least it’s the first time somebody has been brave enough to speak out on this page, in this column, in The Weekly.
1.Get a shopping trolley, preferably one of those groovy, vinyl ones from the 1970s with the paisley pattern and the cute white wheels. You can pick them up for about $12,890 on eBay and believe me, it’s worth it. You’ll stand out, people will talk, you’ll be asked questions about its history. Lie. Tell them you’ve had it for years because “you’ve always shopped the environmentally friendly way”.
2.Packing protocol: When packing aforementioned trolley with farmers’ market items, remember – pumpkin and potatoes at the bottom; rolled loin of pork hand-stuffed with semi-dried artichokes soaked in verjuice and seared over local coal fires, middle. Then albino broccoli picked fresh that morning from a hillside market garden shaded by a canopy of gums, top. Purchase a baguette and a large bunch of celery and shove it on the very top of the trolley for everybody to see. Remember, going to a farmers’ market is just like getting a role in Home And Away – looks are everything.
3.Ask questions. FM shoppers need to know the provenance of every item. Where, when and how it was grown. They want the results of soil tests, and the emotional state and astrology signs of the organic free-range chooks. Growers/breeders are reluctant to sell produce unless it’s going to a home where it will be appreciated, so drop words like quinoa, spelt and bone broth into the conversation and their celeriac will be in your sack, pronto.
4.Never mention plastic. When offered a bag for your biotic bunch of kale, firmly and politely refuse. Instead, pull out a string or hessian bag and while doing so, casually mention that you’re saving dolphins from choking, one bag at a time. Shoot all other shoppers a look of condescension. Really practise this look because you’ll use it often here.
5.Uphold the uniform – comfortable slacks in hemp or natural fibres, long shirt, straw hat, grey short hair, red glasses and, if really trying, matching Birkenstock sandals. Don’t forget the membership lanyard for the 5 per cent off. If it’s expired, but you’re still wanting the discount, do
as I do and tell the stallholder you left your lanyard at home in the laundry basket and blame “the menopause”. This action singlehandedly dispels the notion that menopause is good for nothing.
But ladies, despite my five assured steps to success, it will still end badly. Upon returning home, the three double chai lattes you ingested will rise in your throat.
Sure, you had a good time, you loved the buskers and the atmosphere, and all those cheese and olive samples and the “je ne sais quoi”.
But you’ll look at your bunch of celery, wheel of organic brie and baguette laid out on the bench and then at your empty purse and, like Peggy Lee, ask, “Is that all there is?”
Like her, s’pose you’ll just have to break out the booze and have a ball … provided, of course, it’s organic.
This story originally appeared in the May 2015 issue of The Australian Women’s Weekly.
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