Who Knew: Seize the Tomato, New Canaan

‘Who Knew?’ is sponsored by Walter Stewart’s Market. It’s worth noting here that, while the Farmer’s Market is a special Saturday ritual, Walter Stewart’s keeps our community going 364 days a year with excellent produce, prepared foods, and THAT chicken dumpling soup. Check out the Connecticut Grown sections in their produce department for a farmer’s market any day of the week. – Laura

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Growing up in California, I was deeply intrigued by the idea of a life with four distinct seasons. It seemed like living in a movie, having a real-deal Northeastern fall like When Harry Met Sally and a cozy, entrancing winter like, well, like something other than The Shining or Misery, but as a kid, I was super into Stephen King. You get the picture.

When we moved to Connecticut, I realized that there aren’t just four seasons here but dozens of them. There’s How Is It Possibly Still Snowing in Late April, and Why Is It 70 Degrees on Christmas. There’s Oh, Leafblowers Again? Followed by Now That’s What I Call Mosquitos! Volume 67. And with each passing year, as my roots in New Canaan get deeper, I have come to relish (and resent) every microseason with renewed enthusiasm. But we’re in the best of them right now, my friends, unless you’re some kind of pumpkin spice fetishist, and if you are, I hope they come out with a pill for that soon. We’re currently smack in the middle of Produce Prom 2022, the finest time to claim Nutmegger status, because you get to eat allll the tomatoes. And the corn. And the peaches. And while only 7% of Connecticut is active farmland, you’d never know it to see folding tables buckling under the weight of baseball bat-sized local zucchinis when the New Canaan Farmer’s Market comes to town. 

Everyone has their go-to vendors, their preferred order, and their own time-tested strategic approach to late summer Farmer’s Market visits. Frankly, I’m sharing mine for selfish reasons: so I’ll get better ones in the comments section.

 

Don’t be shy.

It’s a bit of a Beyond Thunderdome situation negotiating Saturday morning parking at the Lumberyard lot, but let’s be honest: what New Canaan parking lot isn’t? The 65/35 split between Connecticut and New York license plates tells you something of our market’s power to draw corn fans over state lines. It may be wholly shadeless and, lately, hot (dear Town: can we please plant some shade trees in the Lumberyard lot?), but it’s convivial,  with a danceable live soundtrack, most often provided by beloved local musician Henry Jones, 

One Saturday, as we queued up for corn and squash blossoms, the woman in front of me had a gorgeous bouquet of sunflowers peeking out the top of her tote bag. I complimented them, and as we got to talking, she shared a recipe she’d found on Instagram for Sungold tomato pasta. You cook the tomatoes down with an onion, some garlic, and saffron, blitz the mixture with an immersion blender until it’s velvety-smooth, and add heavy cream. I promptly bought three pints of Sungolds and made it that night. It was lovely to meet a fellow summer produce nerd with a similar sense of exhilaration for the moment. Candidly,  I kinda wanted to invite her over for some kind of adult lady afternoon playdate, so we could make Ina Garten’s roasted vegetable orzo salad and watch Instagram videos of Stanley Tucci making cocktails, but sadly for grownups, nobody does that. Regardless, the pasta was tasty!

 

Make a day of it.

A while back, my dearest friend from California came to stay with us for a week, and I got a severe case of the Houseguest Sweats. That nervous feeling that your life, when examined up close, might not be as charming as it appears on Instagram. “What if the suburbs bore her?” “Should we put in a pool really quick?” “Is Rosé All Day a legitimate activity for other people, too?” But the New Canaan Farmer’s Market turned our summer Saturday into an all-day event. She loved the small-town charm of the venue, the vendors, and the variety. I loved learning that someone from Oakland would ever call New Canaan cool.

 

 

The nice thing about peak-season produce is that it wants to be consumed as quickly as possible. It demands simple preparations, improvisation, and a total lack of culinary rigidity. Serve Asian-inspired grilled mushrooms with a Mexican street corn dip? Why not?! That day, we bought and grilled all the veggies we could, served them with chimichurri from the “Pesto! Mozzarella!” guys, blended up a batch of fresh gazpacho, and enjoyed the kind of lunch that takes six hours and an additional run to the liquor store to wrap up. From that angle, even pool-less life in the suburbs is just perfect. 

 

 

Be French. Or at least Frenchish.

My Farmer’s Market vibe can be fairly characterized as Lulu Peyraud cosplay. I carry a market basket that I bought years ago with dreams of becoming the kind of flinty, resourceful chef who trots out daily to a trusted coterie of select vendors, makes a few sniffy but affable observations about the quality of the haddock or the radishes, and, later, whips up a phenomenal dinner from scratch. Update: I continue not to be this person.  But whatever I can fit in The Basket is fair game for on-the-spot dinners throughout the week. I particularly loved this ratatouille we put together for a friend’s birthday a few weeks ago. We had shopped aimlessly, without a meal in mind, but when I got home, I realized I was sitting on Provençal gold. 

 

 

This anti-Costconian way of thinking also forces a radical connection to the present. Most Classics majors would heavily debate the idea that the ancient Roman poet Horace had a Fairfield County Farmer’s Market in mind when he wrote “carpe diem,” but, as it translates more literally to “pluck the day”, it works. Buy what looks terrific because it will be gone in a few weeks. Bring home armloads of in-season tomatoes (Riverbank Farms, in the far right corner, has the best ones as well as the longest line) and eat them sliced with a bit of salt, or dazzle your friends with this tomato pie that, to this day, is the most memorable way to eat late-August tomatoes I know. 

So I try to be a little bit French about it. Not necessarily a chic Parisian in size 24 Chloé denim with multiple motorcycle-riding boyfriends–those days are behind me–but I try to be the kind of person who knows what to do with a tomato.  

Lines don’t lie. Neither do Badass Bagels.

 

Long lines might lead you to a worthwhile discovery. In this case, a long line took me straight to Badass Bagels: killer scratch-made bagels from Norwalk restaurant Olives & Salt. This vendor, which opened for business as a popup in 2020, is more than just another cult-following carb from the heady, sourdough-starter-fueled days of the early pandemic. This is because of their undeniably genius cream cheese flavors. 

Badass Bagels’ cream cheese flavors are so inventive, I feel compelled to fire the entire product development department at Philadelphia ruthlessly and with haste. Their Hot Honey Pistachio and Preserved Lemon with Fried Caper cream cheeses are textural and complex but super adaptable, the kind of spreads you might experimentally dip pretzels and grapes into at a party while nobody’s looking. But their Smoky Black Garlic is sheer umami devilry: smooth and savory, almost like a vegetarian version of taramosalata, and great under a tomato. So follow the line. The longer your wait, the Smoky Black Garlickier your reward. 

Reduce, Reuse, Return!

If you’re low on reusable bags or too lazy to walk back to your car to get your own, Lexi at the Farmer’s Market sells a pretty, reusable burlap tote bag emblazoned with the Farmer’s Market logo. 

When you’re done with your jar, the Wonderland Jam team will take it back for sterilization and reuse and give you 50 cents off your next purchase or a free fruit treat. Have you had the strawberry guava jam she’s making this year? If not, why?!

If you bring back your silver insulated Bee’s Knees Ice Pops envelope and buy more, I’m *pretty* sure you get a free pop. I highly recommend the Cucumber/ Lime/ Mint kind (“it’s like doing yoga, but you’re eating,” per one friend), but my husband has another POV with regards to Bee’s Knees ice pops. His is one that I find doubles nicely as an approach to the entire summer produce experience:

“I’d like one of everything!”

 See you Saturday.