Small World
If you’re familiar with the Six Degrees of Separation, let me tell you that theory jumps to a factor of two when it comes to farmers markets. Last week a customer came up and told me that when she was out of town at a writers workshop she began talking about her farmer at the market and the owners of the event venue lit up with excitement—We know her, too! Just as often, I open the New York Times to find someone I’ve met at the market. This week was no exception, and I felt it worthwhile to share with everyone.
When I first began attending Central Farm Markets one of my regulars casually mentioned his dad had started the Greenmarkets in New York City. Anyone who has ever lived in New York City or even visited the Greenmarkets knows they set the bar for metropolitan markets. Begun in the 1970’s they’re responsible for the rock star status of local farmers who pushed the envelope with organic and sustainable artisan foods. Like the DC metro area, travel in a two-hour radius outside the city and there will be an ample assortment of agricultural enterprises if operated on a commodity level would fail to support the farms.
The photo of the white-haired gentleman picking out his strawberries caught my eye before the headline, especially since the first strawberries of the season were scheduled to arrive at the market that Sunday. I know that man, and when I read that Barry Benepe, founder of the New York City Greenmarkets had died at 96, I was saddened knowing how much his family took local foods, the preservation of farmland, and the love of their father to heart.
Mr. Benepe is credited with starting the farm-to-table movement that connected farmers with both eaters and chefs, educating everyone on the importance of eating both seasonally and locally. He opened his first open-air market in Manhattan in 1976, which has grown over the years to include 30 neighborhood markets including the flagship market at Union Square. Even after his retirement from both the Greenmarkets and his day job as a planner, he continued to help start markets, including the Saugerties Farmers Market located in the Hudson Valley where he lived with his wife, Judith Specktor at the time of his death.
While most articles about his values and legacy include his belief that farmers should be paid a fair price for what they produce, that locally produced food is fresher and tastes better than mass produced items shipped long distances, and that supporting farmers means saving critical farmland from development, I’d like to add a few more.
First, Mr. Benepe instilled the values that he held about food and farmers markets to his children. For many years, his son, Andrew, was a staple at Central Farm Market weekly loading up the saddlebags on his bicycle until he moved to New York to be closer to his aging father. He was the inspiration for one of the first blog posts I wrote after taking over writing Dishing the Dirt. He and his family weren’t just customers but became friends with all the farmers, bringing food to their vendors made from the fresh vegetables they purchased the week prior and collaborating on shenanigans (he was the one who made the wolf mask for the sheep that came to market the year I dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood). They made the farmers feel like we mattered.
Secondly, when a pioneer in your industry compliments you on a job well done, it’s a heartfelt validation nothing else can match. Mitch Berliner, founder of Central Farm Markets recalls first meeting Barry Benepe at the Bethesda market. “He came over to me asking ‘Who runs this market?’ saying how he ‘loved the market mix, music, and vibe.” Mitch was on cloud nine and felt as if he’d been knighted by the King of Farm Markets. The two would meet again, once over dinner in New York City and again at the Saugerties Farm Market in the Hudson Valley. “I felt my life was enriched by meeting him and breaking bread together,” said Berliner when he learned of Benepe’s passing.
We at Central Farm Markets send our condolences to Mr. Benepe’s family. May his memory be a blessing.