Stall story

By GLYNN CHRISTIAN

By 9.30am I was too late. "Mate," they said, laughing at me, "the best stuff has all gone by 7.30."

It was no good protesting that I had left Auckland just after 7am and driven for more than two hours to get there. The people of Whangarei know when and how to shop for good food: you start early. So early you have to take a torch.

For three years Whangarei has enjoyed a world-class farmers' market every Saturday. Tucked behind the public library in Rust St, it is a true farmers' food and produce market, with not an incense stick, silver bangle, second-hand frock or knitted tea cosy in sight.

Late as I was, there were still plenty of exciting things to buy. Carolyn and John grow and sell limes, including the kaffir lime so vital to Thai cookery. Right now, they have packs of the leaves, and soon they'll be selling the kaffir limes themselves, wrinkled and inedible, but with zest that's an ineffably exotic flavouring for baked custard or rice puddings.

Some stalls are clearly nice hobbies for couples who can work together. Annie and Colin Wright make pickles and sauces - "Well, I pickle, he bottles." There was a stall explaining the mysteries of the giant white radish or daikon; another sold new and old varieties of kumara and potatoes, and pumpkins I didn't even know the name of.

Many fruit stalls offered both perfect produce and seconds, but not windfalls, which are prohibited. At one, Max Wirtle's mum and dad had stepped in when Max was called away. Their stand brimmed with winter cole pears and big, beautiful, juicy apples. And if you didn't mind a few skin blemishes, granny smith or fuji seconds were $4 for about 5kg.

Not far away, Shirley sells fuyu persimmon seconds at $5 for 2kg. This is the variety you can eat when crisp. Their generous size and beautiful colour are not something you see a lot of, for the perfect fruit goes strictly for export.

There were also local bananas, casimiroas (known to some as "icecream fruit" and too delicate to go into shops), mesclun salad, gorgeous, knobbly tomatoes and, almost hidden and quite inedible but spied with great delight, Christmas lily bulbs for just 50c each.

I was going to turn on my heel from the chokos, which I think are boring, until Ross White, our Bland Bay-based photographer, insisted that chokos are very nice if halved, microwaved to concentrate their fickle flavour, and then served with his home-made, cold-smoked crayfish on the half-shell. Well, they would be, wouldn't they?

Ginny Clayton specialises in herbs and what she calls tried-and-tested varieties of vegetables and garden flowers. A quick browse through her catalogues and I had mentally replanted my entire garden. Then something new struck me: stevia. Do you know it?

Stevia, which is also called the sugar plant, is a relatively new arrival from the United States. Naturally many times sweeter than sugar, the leaves are great to chew fresh, but microwave-dry them and they can be crumbled to use in drinks.

Not exactly farmers, but subscribing to the same ideal, Jutta and Jorg Schroder operate Cakes on Wheels. They have a bakery in Kamo but no shop, selling direct from a large van. Their scrumptious baking is Germanic, including cherry streusel tarts and chocolate bundt cakes. The market favourite is apple strudel with vanilla sauce (custard), and they make two types of sourdough bread.

M URRAY BURNS and Robert Bradley set up the Whangarei market and they demand incredibly high standards. You can't just turn up, hire a space and sell stuff. They actually go to your gardens; if your produce says it is spray-free or organic, they check that it really is.

You even have to sign a lengthy contract that guarantees the public that they are buying direct, buying exactly what the label says and, believe it or not, that if you sell it you must be able to answer questions about how it is grown and what you do with it.

Both men were commercial growers, but decided it was not enough to grumble about selling produce for what it cost to grow, only to see supermarkets profiting vastly. Their biggest initial opposition was from the local supermarkets, furiously protecting their prices. These days they see the same shopkeepers sneaking about to note the market's prices, then going back to reduce theirs.

Farmers' markets are a burgeoning phenomenon worldwide, clearly answering a call by consumers who once again want to know who grows or makes their food, and to buy better food for better prices.

In London on Saturdays, a market is tucked anonymously in a carpark parallel to Notting Hill Gate underground station. Even though Portobello Rd's huge produce market is close by, this one was heaving with happy people, heavenly bread, free-range eggs, game birds and poultry, organic beef and wonderful fruit and vegetables.

Best of all, much of it was cheaper because it was organic, rather than more expensive. No one was making a profit in the middle - just lovely people growing good things for their own enjoyment and to make a little extra cash rather than basic income.

In Australia, the farmers' market movement is rocketing and now has a fulltime national organiser and adviser. A few weeks ago I went to the Wednesday market at Sydney's Fox Studios. I bought muscovy duck breast (we don't farm enough to supply shops) and found some amazing bread packed with dried figs, apricots and muscatel raisins. I tasted young chickweed, sorrel and Milly-Molly-Mandy's parsley at a salad stall, and snaffled some farm-made mozzarella, organic Angus beef and pheasant, finishing off with a bag of Brazilian chocolate truffles.

It was pouring with rain but it was packed. Best of all, I sometimes had to wait because stallholders and customers alike were gossiping, exchanging recipes, showing pictures of new grandchildren, even making hot dates. Just imagine going somewhere like that to shop once or twice a week, chatting to and buying from trusted friends. How good would that be?

"So why isn't there a market like this in Auckland?" I asked Bradley and Burns. They reckoned the growers in Auckland are too frightened of the supermarkets. Otara and Avondale markets might be cheap but many of the stallholders have bought what they sell, rather than growing it.

Bradley puts his and Burns' ethos succinctly. "We reckon it's important to have a sense of ownership of your produce, and to have enough pride to sell it face-to-face with the people who actually eat it. Don't you?"

Now there's a challenge. If you are a specialist grower, or baker or food producer, who would like to sell direct to the public at a weekly market in Auckland or anywhere else - write to me at the Herald. In the meantime, if you can get to Whangarei's market, go early and take a torch.

* For information on stevia, contact Ginny by ph/fax (09) 432 3717.