Saturdays are my favorite day of the week, and it's because I have to work. No, really. I am a baked goods vendor at the Vantage Point Flower/Farmer's Market in Port Huron, Michigan. We wrapped up our second Saturday yesterday, and I have to say that I am beginning to adore meeting all the people that come out to shop, browse, or just take in the view of the St. Clair River. My first love is definitely prepping and baking all week, trying to guess how much to make of every baked good, from Cranberry Walnut Bread to decorated sugar cookies in the shapes of Sailboats, Lighthouses, and Poppies. Breads seem to be the hit right now, even though we have 3 to 4 vendors who sell bread each week. Thankfully, we all sell a different variety, and even if we didn't the competition helps us all. I also sell Pasties. Liz, the Market Master, e-mailed me over the winter and asked if I made them. I think at that point I had made them once, just trying to see what the big deal was. I mean, in Michigan, if you barely mention "Pasty", you get heads turning, people sucking in their breath and questions of who, where, when, how much, and "Are they real U.P. Pasties?". I told Liz I would make some and see how it went. First week of market, a beautiful sunny day, I sold out by Noon. I was speechless. I knew that people would be excited, but selling out? So when yesterday's market came around, I was hoping for the same thing. Little did I know I'd learn a lesson and get even more pumped about making a pasty.
As with most markets, people are "just looking". I'm cool with that because I am a learning this ability. I am currently in therapy with my own self to realize it is perfectly acceptable to enter a store and leave without purchasing anything. This might be one of the hardest things I have ever done since quitting smoking, and I actually cried and broke things during the first month of being smoke-free. Thank goodness there haven't been any "quitting lookers" so far, since I have glass dishes full of granola that would be really fun to shatter on the cement in front of my tent if that person was craving.
A group of lookers was passing by, checking out Mindy's wares. Mindy is my market neighbor who has a herd of Bison, and sells their meat in various forms. It is simply amazing meat. More amazing is Mindy's talent for carving Bison bones. I didn't take pics of these, but next week I will and I will definitely share and get more of Mindy's story. Back to the lookers....one broke out of the pack and wandered over to my table. She immediately turned to an older gentleman and said "Dad, she's got Pasties!". The gentleman carefully made his way over, left ear hearing aid caught in my quick glance. He said to me "My mother used to make 500 Pasties in half a day for the concession stand we worked." My mouth dropped open. "500. Half a day?", I said. "Yup, and she charged 15 cents each. One time she made some smaller ones and charged 10 cents. Folks like the bigger ones, though." His large grin was infectious, and his tale was reeling me in. His right eye watered from the cold, or the memories, but I couldn't tell which. He went on to tell me he liked being in the back, peeling potatoes, making as many as 5 or more deliveries of Pasties a day to the concession stand. He winked as he mentioned we would drop off the pasties and then sneak into the carnival. His son made his way over, letting me know they were from Marquette, so their pasties were "The Original". The gentleman told me his son still makes them today, and I blushed with jealousy, and then hoped they wouldn't buy my "down state" pasty made by a German mutt. I told the gentleman I envied the legacy the family had, and he smiled wide and puffed out his chest a bit. He realized the group had gotten a bit ahead in the market, so we bid farewell, and I expressed by gratitude for meeting him and his story. He winked and walked away slowly, thinking, I'm sure, of all those pasties his mother made in a different time and place. I can guarantee I will think of him and of his mother every time I prep my pasties. How could I not? I can guarantee I will remember the 50-ish gentleman speed walker with the much too short shorts who makes his way by all of our tents. Bonus!
~J
