Farmer's Market Etiquette

1. Don't ask if there is vegetable oil in the bread. Maybe instead ask, "What oils do you use to make your bread?" If you ask, "Do you use vegetable oil in your bread?" you will indubitably receive one of three responses: "Uhhh ughhhhh I don't know," "Do we put what? Do we put WHAT?" or just a dirty look and an indiscernible twitch of the head. Organic ingredients could be things like organic vegetable oil, and Martha's Homemade Whole Grain may contain diammonium phosphate (fire retardant, cigarette additive), but fuck you for wanting to know. Fuck you consumer. Those are their babies in those bread baskets, you're trying to buy someone's babies.


2. Avoid tomato stands operated by short-haired gray-haired witches. They are all high. The lycopene turns their chemicals to assholes, makes them ignore you for ten minutes and then throw empty plastic bags in your face. Ask them if there's any vegetable oil in their tomatoes.


3. Be extremely nice to the people with the roasted chile peppers. They are the only friendly producers until you get to the cupcakes, and young girls teach you things, like the scratches mean a hotter pepper.


4. Ask from where their produce hails if they do not specify. I found out a lot of the things sold at one farmer's market in Colorado comes from Mexico.


5. Or maybe just don't go to farmer's markets in places called Cherry Creek, Maple Grovington, Chancellor Brook Esquire. 5. Maybe go to smaller farmer's markets. 5. Like ones in districts of suburbs with Olde or Little in the title. Here will be local farmers with local bounty, and it will be less volcanic with rude rich folk stepping on your toes and shoving you out of the way to get to the celery. The producers are friendly, you can have open informative chats, and they take great pride in what they have to offer.
Note: The woman with the $200/carton duck eggs will sell you jalapenos, and when you tell her you do not eat eggs, she will become extremely offended. "Well, WELP, there goes your protein," she will huff at you. This will be comical to you, and you will respect her obsessive unabashed passion for bird eggs.


Long ago, our ancestors were selling cigarettes at the Bedrock farmer's market: