Annie's New York Kitchen

The Markets! The Markets!

I am too far away from my Hudson Valley kitchen this summer. Work brings me to Manhattan, and my daughter brings me back to Dutchess and Ulster Counties...for a few Sunday hours, sandwiched in between three-hours rides on the train up to Wassaic.

That's why I'm treasuring my times at the farmers' markets. When I can get them.

Tarragon. Came up very nicely in my garden this year.

At the Saturday Market in Kingston, (9 AM to 1 PM), I have been loving the displays of baked goods and ready-to eat, as well as the fruits and vegetables. Davenport's Farm, with its sugar-sweet corn, makes an appearance here, as does Pika's, with its sultry empanadas, its rich quiches, and its sweet, scholarly Ms. Sophie.

Hudson Traders Coffee serves up bittersweet, adult-refreshing iced mochas, as sophisticated as a well-made Mexican mole. And there's always Fleischers, that stars-in-its-eyes butcher shop. Personally, I don't have the budget for the big fleisch, but I buy meatballs, salumeria, stocks and organ meats--the "interesting" things that I also buy from Adams Fairacre in Poughkeepsie. What am I going to do with these sweet little organic chicken livers? To what would I like to add this end-cut of country ham? I'll think of something. Or the brilliant staff at Fleischer's will sketch out a little recipe for me on the wrapping paper.

This is what I can't afford

And at The Rhinebeck Farmers' Market, 10 AM to 2 PM on Sundays? Right now the place is a frenzy of stone fruit and berries...so I stock up on peaches of all kinds, as solid in their fuzzy skins as well-frozen sorbet, heavy with sugary juice, a mess to eat without a spoon. Sometimes a little Ronnybrook cream goes with them, but Tracy and I have to watch our diets, so it's just a little.

Tomatoes are served at practically every meal, this time of year. We love yellow and orange, 'maters...they are nutty instead of acid, with firm flesh; a few grains of sea salt and some excellent olive oil (I take advantage of my family's bi-coastfulness by trickling San Francisco's magical Stonehouse EVOO) is all they need. And maybe the company of a thinly-sliced Green Zebra tomato? But I can get these out of my backyard, so the market serves mostly to give me the dill and chives and tarragon which will enliven the tomatoes even more.

And Rhinebeck brings me the famous fowl, sausages and eggs of Quattro Farms, with Mrs. Quattro and her pretty daughters a testament to good farm living; the salubrious wonder of Farmhouse Soups, and the always-fascinating bee display of Mr. Ray Toussey.

Every now and again I try to get myself to the Union Square Greenmarket in Manhattan, but then I find myself asking: Why bother?

Annie Newman would like to get back into her Kingston kitchen some day.