What does it mean to be a locavore? And is it truly feasible? This is a question I have been asking myself over the last several months.

For years I have considered my eating practices on the upper echelon of health. Lots of greens, lots of fruits, lots of wholesome snacks, very little refined sugar. We regularly shop the farmers’ market. We try to support local as much as we can. We have a small patio garden through the summer months. My son and I have Sunday morning baking adventures to fill up on healthy, unprocessed snacks during the week. And my love for kombucha has become an ongoing, super successful, chemistry experiment in my pantry thereby reducing my carbon footprint.

But still, we have a long way to go.

Food citizenship, a buzzword in foodie circles, is the act of engaging in food-related behaviours that consider all aspects of the food – its affect on personal health; its effect on the environment; on animal welfare; and on sustainability of our local farmers. Its premise is knowing where our food is grown, how it is grown, and make consumption decisions accordingly. This applies everywhere – at the grocery store, in restaurants, and yes, even at our farmers’ markets. Essentially, we need to stop being passive food consumers, and start being advocates of our local food system.

But is it possible?

This winter, we have been challenged in this endeavour every which way we turn. The winter has diminished our farmers’ crops, if not obliterated them. We are lucky if we get local microgreens and potatoes at our bi-weekly market. Our fridge, I’m not going to lie, has produce from California, Mexico, Washington, and who knows where else. Not really locavore-like, at all. Sixty to seventy years ago, though, families regularly faced such hardships. Prior to industry taking over the shelves with its processed goods, nearly all foods were at the whim of environment. If the weather was not sustainable for fresh foods, they relied on stocked up preserves. They survived… and so shall we.

Market loot:

• Nutrigreens: – 1 5 oz bag microgreens $5

• Old Country Pierogi – 2 vegan burgers $8

• Lilise – 1 475 ml jar apple butter $10

• A Bread Affair – 1 loaf French Kiss bread $7

– 1 brown butter cookie $2

• Salt Dispensary – 1 2.5 oz cherry-smoked salts $8

Total spent: $40

The farmers’ market is brimming with preserves these days. I purchased the apple butter for my four-year-old who loves applesauce on its own, in his oatmeal, and mixed up in plain, Greek yogurt. We also used it in a few of our baking adventures to make avocado brownies, spinach “monster” cupcakes, and chickpea chocolate cookies as a way of reducing the refined sugar content. I was most surprised with how well the brownies turned out. The avocado was used as a healthy fats alternative, and the apple butter, along with pure maple syrup, as a sweetener. So gooey, so chocolatey, so not avocadoey.

The vegan patties were like none I have ever tasted. So many textures and flavours: crunchy with pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, chia seeds, and kaniwa (similar to quinoa, but with a crunchier texture); creamy with mashed yams and black beans; a little kick of spice; some smoky undertones;, and I think, but I am not 100% sure, there was cumin in the mix as well. I have determined to recreate this recipe on my own. A new market-fresh challenge, dare I say. First stop: sourcing out kaniwa in New Westminster.

A splurge of the shop was most definitely the salt. We did not need a flavoured salt, and frankly I had no idea what I would add it to. But it was intriguing. The most adventurous I usually get with salt is Himalayan sea salt. The Salt Dispensary had probably 30 flavours on its table, and you better believe I smelled each and every one of them before choosing the smoked cherry. The fellow at the stand suggested sprinkling it on tomatoes and avocados, or rubbing it onto meats, or sprinkling it onto a cheese plate. We did the tomatoes and avocado; sprinkled it onto salmon, over top of fried eggs on toast, and into a shrimp stir fry. The taste was lost in the stir fry; there were likely too many competing flavours. I preferred my salmon without. But on the avocado, tomato, and fried eggs, it was absolutely lovely – another tasty dimension.

At every table I went to, I talked to the farmers, the vendors, the owners. I learned about the processes used, and the ingredients sourced for the breads at A Bread Affair, I was told about the my loaf’s “peasant” origins, that it was a mix of whole rye and wheat fermented over three days to give it a slight tang. And I was heavily encouraged to pair it with either a hearty bowl of borscht, or a slab of Montreal smoked meat on top. I discovered that even in -20˚C weather, the microgreens growers tended to their greenhouse-grown crops every morning no matter how much they would have preferred the warmth of their beds. I also learned that the stuffed bag of microgreens I got had been harvested that morning prior to the market, giving them a solid 7-10 days of freshness in the fridge. I learned the apple butter included the apple skins to retain optimal sweetness. And the story of The Salt Dispensary first began with a man who had lost his job and had discovered a new set of creative juices with a wood plank and salt.

With every question I asked, with every producer-consumer relationship I made, with every purchasing decision, I grew closer to food citizenship.

These market vendors sure do know how to upsell. Walking up and down Belmont Street, there was vendor after vendor holding out samples of scones, fresh-baked bread, crackers, hummus, applesauce, muffins, soup, even B.C. caught salmon. I did not plan on coming home with tapenade, or za’atar crackers, or locally churned peanut butter. And yet, those were my top purchases.

It all started with the crackers.

Samaya Delights had a variety of sweet and savoury samples lining its table, but it was the za’atar crackers I was most interested in. I did not know what za’atar was and started asking questions. Za’atar is a middle-eastern blend of spices that typically includes thyme, oregano and marjoram. I was intrigued. The lady told me I must try one, but not on its own, she said, it must be paired  with a spread of garlic-roasted hummus from Bob Ali.

Oh. My. Tummy. So yummy.

I purchased the crackers, and all but ran to the Bob Ali Hummus table. There, we had 10 or more different samples of hummus and tapenade. There were heated flavours, sweet flavours, decadent flavours. I thought for sure I would be getting the garlic-roasted hummus, but once I tried the thai green coconut curry, a mix of sweet and heat, I was sold. And I did not stop there. My eyes drifted over to the lineup of tapenades. I do not believe I have ever had tapenade, so again, I started asking questions. The most pertinent: what can you eat it with?

Vegetables. Cheese. Sandwiches. Pretty much anything.

She had me at sandwiches. I love sandwiches. Big, bold, flavourful, overflowing sandwiches. Sandwiches so big they barely fit into your mouth for a bite. With the Kalamata tapenade in hand, I then rushed over to A Bread Affair. They were sampling brioche, so sweet and light, it was as though it melted in my mouth. Not the kind of bread I envisioned for the day’s lunch, however. Instead, I purchased the last loaf of Love Birds, a savoury bread full of sunflower, sesame and pumpkin seeds, that I had discovered the previous market.

Surely, a sandwich is not a sandwich without the greens. The only greens on site were pea shoots from Ossome Acres and the return of microgreens from Nutrigreens. This week I opted for the microgreens. I was not the only one. After a long winter that has wreaked havoc on our farmers’ crops, it was no surprise Nutrigreens had a lineup of customers all but drooling over the giant bowl of luscious green and purple tinged microgreens.

I had hoped to accompany my sandwich with a small side salad featuring a handful of kale. Sadly, I may be waiting a couple more months. Unlike last year when we had kale, kalettes, and other hearty green crops through the entire winter, this unusually cold and tumultuous winter of ours has destroyed nearly all. Aaron Ossome of Ossome Acres told me the day prior he was out in the fields and did tend to a couple of his crops that had survived, but were unfortunately producing at minimal levels – not enough to bring in for sales.

In fact, we were even lucky to have his walnuts on display. Following the ice storm that battled the Fraser Valley a few weeks ago, Aaron’s trees suffered major damage, losing a third of their branches.

Market Loot:

Nutrigreens: • 1 bag microgreens : $5

Samaya Delights: • 1 bag za’atar crackers: $3

• 1 large turmeric anise muffin: $2

Ossome Acres: • 100 grams walnuts: $4

A Bread Affair: • 1 loaf Love Birds bread: $6

Artisans Natural Way: • 1 400 ml jar smooth peanut butter: $10

Bob Ali Hummus: • 1 container hummus: $6

• 1 container tapenade: $6

Total spent $42

A few more purchases made solely because of the sampling effect: a 400 ml jar of smooth peanut butter churned in Sechelt; a uniquely flavoured turmeric-anise muffin; and desires for canned salmon, which I did not try until I only had $4 left in the budget. It will surely be a contender for our next market outing.