"The Dubliner" Magazine - June 2006

What's so cool about Farmers' Markets?
Ireland has become a more secular society - but Sunday mornings remain sacred. Our working week runs like an episode of 24: an imaginary clock counts down the minutes until the weekend arrives and we can worship our free time by lying in, lazing around or indeed by doing absolutely nothing.

On a beautiful Sunday morning in May, when most sane people are still sleeping (or sleeping It off), I find myself in the midst of a busy weekly ritual in the yard of the multi-denominational school in Ranelagh

A dozen traders are setting up shop for the farmer's market, where fresh meat, fruit, vegetables, mouth-watering falafels and aromatic cheese are sold. (One might even buy loaves and fishes.)

A cynic, I soon appreciate the warmth and attention of the market traders. working side by side In the cloister that is the schoolyard, they know each other well, so the air crackles with chatter and good humour. In fact, there is a real sense of community here; leaving aside the virtue of the food on offer, that may be reason enough to celebrate such markets

Slowly, the congregation begins streaming into the yard to fill their baskets and their bellies. The first trickle of customers are young couples with their children, many of whom spend up to an hour strolling around the relatively small space, deliberating (and salivating) over the offerings on display. A sprightly Eamon Dunphy is among the more devoted followers; this morning he stocks up on fruit and veg for - one assumes - a serene Sunday at home.

Eventually, the life blood of all businesses in Ranelagh arrive: hungover twenty-someth'ngs. Like the catatonic patients who are revived by new wonder drugs in Awakenings, they slowly make their way around to the more savoury treats, sunglasses hiding their bleary eyes as they venerate the free samples on offer. The coffee, bakery and fresh juice stands prove particularly popular.

Mundy’s July wafts over the growing crowd. The busker's name is Dan and he enthusiastically reveals that he's a relative of Dracola author Bram Stoker. There is a wooden stand holding fresh garlic perched right behind him.

Many of the traders have strong opinions about the politics of food production in this country. Collectively they express a similar gripe about what's wrong with food and eating in Ireland today - ready meals and fast food.

Jane Murphy, a cheese maker from Cork, slams the culture of'fast food for a fast buck served by people who don't care.' Farmer and meat vendor Jimmy Mulhall laments the practice of 'leaving the producer to carry the burden of price wars,' particularly In light of the abolition of the Groceries Order.

Food markets remove the middleman, that pesky, amorphous devil accused of all manner of inflationary fiscal crimes against the Irish consumer. It doesn't require Hobbesian economic training (as in Eddie, not Thomas) to understand that this is a positive development for the purchaser. And, if nothing else, a stroll around the food market on a blessed Sunday morning channels the best points about Mass-going from back in the day:

you get to see the neighbours, there's bread and wine on offer, and, in the long run, it has to be good for your soul.

Ranelagh Farmers' Market operates in the carpark of the multi-denominational school every Sunday from 10am until 2pm.

Declan Cashin