Chattanooga Times Free Press - ChattanoogaNow
Saluting Farmers Markets
As a kid, going to the 11th Street Farmers Market on Sunday afternoons was an event.
Lists were made (especially if Mother was in canning mode,) menus planned for the week and dollars counted out in preparation to dicker with farmers on prices.
After Sunday dinner was finished, my mother, grandmother and I loaded into Mother’s station wagon for the drive from our home in Woodmore to 11th Street — which, being a kid, felt like a day trip since it usually took the remainder of the afternoon.
Baby boomers will remember that farmers market, which filled the block of 11th Street where the police station is now. It was as bustling and thriving as Chattanooga Market in First Tennessee Pavilion is today.
Farmers trucked in produce from all around the area and set out their veggies, flowers and fruits in baskets in the open-air stalls. Customers would pull their cars right up alongside the curbs of those stalls — which I assumed was why my parents called it the Curb Market — vying for the closest spaces.
Customers would call their questions about prices or varieties out the car window. It took me a couple of trips to figure out “Whacha got on it?” wasn’t questioning the food’s cleanliness; it meant how much. And if Mother got out of the car for closer inspection, that meant a deal was about to go down.
My first food lessons were learned on those Sunday afternoons at the curb market: What to listen for when thumping a watermelon, how to gently squeeze a peach to judge ripe- ness, which apple varieties were tart and why Red Delicious was Mother’s only choice for a snack apple.
Farmers markets facilitate these connections between farmers and their communities. That’s why the Farmers