On Stage At The Farmer's Market

Every so often I'll go to Pasadena's Saturday farmer's market, at the high school parking lot. I'm not a locavore or health nut - though I am pretty down on big corporations and agri-business in general - I go because the produce is waaaaay fresher than you can get in the grocery stores. Usually picked the day before, less than 24 hours before we consumers run our sticky fingers all over it, the produce I buy at the farmer's market lasts longer than what I buy in the store. It's also good to be out in the sun, walking amongst my fellow early-birds and listening to the music the blind guy by the flower stand strums on his guitar. It had been a while since I went, probably six months, and so today I decided the time had come to return.
   This time around I noticed something different. The vendors, usually friendly people to begin with, seemed very eager to talk. And I don't mean they were polite and had a few nice words, they wanted to outline every reason their customers should buy their produce, or honey, or beef, or bread or what have you.
   I noticed it first at the baker's stand. He was explaining his wares, always a good practice, but as the people went down the line he kept it up, talking about his ovens, his technique, his ingredients. That was one proud baker, I thought.
   Then I heard the honey guy do the same, talking about his bees and the local crops he helps bring to our dinner table. And the potato guy, who was able to talk someone's ear off in English and in Spanish and was only too happy to do so. And the flower lady. And the apple family. And the guacamole guy. And the seafood people.
   Did they all go to some farmer's market pitch class? This wasn't the reality six months ago. Back then, in the good old days, the vendors made polite conversation but unless you asked they didn't volunteer much beyond when they picked the produce, baked the bread, or pulled the fish out of the ocean. Today it seemed they had taken some sort of 'talk-too-much' pill with an 'overshare' chaser. Did you know the soil's ph affects the pungency of celery? I didn't either. But I do now. I couldn't have avoided knowing it if I wanted to.
   I might be reading too much into this, but I suspect this is a product of our data-hungry culture. With the internet and horrible 24-hour news channels and Wikipedia now our major news sources, the public has come to expect fast facts in an instant. You can find anything, from what a sucrose molecule looks like to what your favorite anorexic, talentless celebrity is doing this Saturday with just a few mouse clicks. There's a lot of noise out there, a lot of data flying around but not a lot of information. And now that trend seems to have hit the farmer's market.