Portlanders have roughly 20 metro-area farmers markets to shop at and feel warm and fuzzy about. All those fruits and veggies in our baskets certainly are lovely, but let's face it: They're hours away from being dinner and our tummies are already a-rumblin' by the time we get to the market.
Blessed be the markets' food vendors, for they provide a huge array of instant-gratification chow that feeds us in our time of need, so that we may be sustained as we fill our baskets with goods for later meals.
From the elegant Lake Oswego farmers market to the tiny but happenin' Interstate market, there's some seriously good food out there, and we've got a list of our favorites. Go forth and feed.
The creamy hazelnut-cocoa spread ($5) at
will be instantly familiar to anyone who's schlepped their way around Europe with a backpack. It's homegrown Nutella—only with a lot less sugar and no evil trans-fats. We used it as a dip for a pint of strawberries and it felt like Madrid or Paris all over again.
Get a real hearty breakfast at Pine State Biscuits, a venture born of three homesick cooks from North Carolina who missed the warm cream-top biscuits and rich, breakfast sausage-studded gravy ($7, with an over-easy egg) of their home state. Get your lazy butt out of bed before 11:30 am or they'll likely be sold out before you're even out of your jammies.
The curry pastes ($4.25) and creamy peanut sauce ($5) made by Bangkok natives Pon and Susie Kasem at Thai and True aren't exactly instant gratification, but they're one of the quickest ways to get dinner on the table when you do get home. Seasonal vegetables + lemongrass-rich green curry paste + coconut milk = yum.
Christopher Gumke and Teresa Atkins started
because, in his words, "We bake the gluten-free stuff we couldn't find anywhere else." They've managed to make a number of impressive g.f. goodies, like a bona-fide crisp baguette ($3.50) and choco-chunk peanut-butter cookies ($1), that even a wheat-eater could love.
Todbott's Triangles gets the prize for most unique nosh of all the markets. Onigiri—portable triangles of sushi rice wrapped in nori and stuffed with salty-tart pickled plum, kelp or salmon ($2)—are "the peanut butter and jelly of Japan," according to Japanophile/Todbott owner Todd Gillies. They taste way more delicious than Skippy to us.
The unusual combo of artichoke and tangy
's tamales ($4.75) are a stroke of genius. Add a bag of their crunchy, halitosis-inducing garlic
chips ($2.50, something like a sourdough bagel chip), and you've got one interesting lunch.
We had no idea that the cookies-'n'-cream cupcakes ($2) we were stuffing into our gaping maws were vegan until Lisa Higgins, owner-chef of Sweetpea Baking, pointed it out. With that moist, chocolaty cake and creamy Newman-O's-studded frosting, you'd never know. Your secret is safe with us, Lisa.
Perhaps more famous for their seriously good mustards with silly names like "Devoutly Dill" and "Heavenly Honey" ($5), the
have a secret weapon at their stand: Sister Immaculata's coffee cake ($5). Her moist cake with streusel topping is the kind of thing you remember from bake sales of days gone by—cinnamony-sweet, unapologetically rich and impossible to stop eating.
What happens when two seasoned food professionals (Fred Best and Jeff Ridabock) dream big and buy an $18,000, tricked-out barbecue/smoking trailer pit? Smokin' Rose Barbecue rolls into the Beaverton market and offers slow-cooked St. Louis pork ribs ($2 per rib, $18 full rack) with fall-off-the-bone smoky goodness to an adoring crowd, that's what. Get there before noon or you'll be 'cueless.
The Fry Bread Man makes up crisp-'n'-puffy Native American fry bread tacos filled with buffalo or ground beef, cheese and sour cream for an astounding $5. Buyer beware, these suckers are messy—park it or you'll end up wearing it.
The eggplant-and-tomato caponata tartlets ($4) and flaky asparagus-stuffed croissants ($4.50) from
are as posh as the shoppers here. Don't neglect to inhale a moist piece of their caramel-covered pumpkin spice bread ($3.25) while you're at it.
Never mind the rather ridiculous name, Juice-a-licious furnishes parched shoppers with icy cups of fresh-squeezed orange juice and raspberry lemonade (both $4) as fast as the sweet, high-school-aged staff can juice.
(a pilot program of Hacienda CDC, an organization that offers assistance to Latino families) does a brisk business selling light and airy tamales stuffed with moist shredded pork, chicken or squash-tomato filling ($2.50). The optional jalapeño salsa they ladle over the top looks mild enough, but it'll kick your ass.
When you need just a little something to sustain you before you round the next corner, Fleur de Lis can hold you up with market-inspired fruit crostatas ($3). A recent visit yielded a ruby-red rhubarb tidbit with an unbelievably flaky crust that kept us going for several paces.
From tubs of
—a Mediterranean dip made with roasted peppers and pomegranate molasses ($4) to handmade crackers sprinkled with tangy
($2.50), the heart-healthy nibbles at
are about as sophisticated as you can get anywhere, let alone at a farmers market.
offers a seemingly endless array of brownies ($2.25-$2.50), from the fudgy "neo classic" to the exotic coconut-lime. Sadly, we were told that brownies do not grow on trees, despite the stand's name. We had to ask....
There's nothing cooler than hanging out at ¿Por Qué No? on Mississippi Avenue, eating tacos and downing pitchers of margaritas. That is, until you get salsa all down the front of your new Diesel T-shirt. Pig out in relative anonymity at their stand at the Interstate market, where you can get a couple of bean-and-cheese tacos with a side of guacamole for $5 and no one will ever know about your boarding-house manners.