Chapter 1: The Essence of Jersey Farm Stands

In New Jersey, the iconic farm stand is characterized by its simplicity and commitment to delivering fresh produce season after season. The renowned writer Garrison Keillor once remarked, "Sex is good, but not as good as fresh, sweet corn." I can't speak to Mr. Keillor's experiences, but I can attest that few things rival the taste of freshly picked corn, lightly warmed and sprinkled with sea salt. It’s an experience that can feel almost divine, affirming the notion that there is a benevolent force looking out for us, as Benjamin Franklin once mused.

Unfortunately, many people across the nation consume corn that I wouldn't even offer to livestock. You might have come across it in the freezer aisle labeled “corn on the cob.” This variety, often encountered in midwestern diners or street food stalls, is a bright yellow, mealy, and devoid of flavor—so bland that it usually comes slathered in melted butter or cheese.

Many years ago, while covering a local farm, I found myself in a cornfield with a farmer. A few migrant workers were harvesting corn for the farm stand that day, all done by hand. As we stood at the edge of the field, the farmer inquired if I had tasted any of the corn that day. I mentioned my familiarity with local corn, but he insisted, "No, this corn right here, today."

He quickly retrieved an ear from his truck, husked it in two swift motions, and handed it to me. "Take a bite," he urged.

"Right now, raw?" I questioned.

"Absolutely," he affirmed. "Corn doesn't need cooking; we’ve just been conditioned to eat it hot. It doesn't get better than this."

I took a bite, and it was like tasting pure candy—sweet, fresh, and bursting with flavor. The kernels exploded in my mouth, releasing a juicy sweetness reminiscent of honey and the warmth of summer.

The sugars in corn transform to starch almost immediately after picking, which is why you should always choose corn that has been harvested that day. Additionally, don’t cook it for long; just bring a pot of salted water to a boil, turn off the heat, add the shucked corn, and cover for about seven minutes. This method simply warms the corn rather than cooking it.

Serve the corn right away; it should be the last item on your table. While butter is generally delightful, if the corn is genuinely fresh, it may not be necessary. I personally enjoy a sprinkle of salt, but even that can be excessive at times. Consider enjoying it solo to savor its complex flavors.

In New Jersey, the peak corn season spans from August to late September, though it can vary from July to October depending on the year. Right now, it's in full swing, possibly at its best, but by this time, many are already looking forward to roasted squash and pumpkin pie rather than vine-ripened tomatoes and sweet corn.

Chapter 2: The Real Garden State

Contrary to popular belief, New Jersey—especially South Jersey—offers a rich tapestry of landscapes and experiences. When I travel and share that I’m from New Jersey, I can almost see the stereotypes forming in people’s minds: The Sopranos, MTV's Jersey Shore, urban sprawl, or quirky beach towns. They anticipate an Italian accent, not farms and fields.

During a trip to Santa Barbara, California, while visiting wineries, I encountered a charming little town called Los Olivos. It was filled with vintage trucks and wine shops, where small vineyards showcased their best offerings. I wandered into one shop, where the proprietor greeted me with a faux Jersey accent, asking, "How you doin'?" Surprised, I asked if that was how I sounded, to which he replied, “Yes.”

I’ve lived in New Jersey for most of my life now, and while I chuckled, I realized that despite its dense urban areas, New Jersey boasts more horses than Kentucky, world-class wineries, and thousands of acres of nature preserves. We have coastal beaches, marshlands, and historic towns, coexisting with the bustling northern counties.

New Jersey is affectionately known as The Garden State, which may prompt laughter from those unfamiliar with its agricultural riches. In reality, the state is home to over 9,000 farms and around 700 farm stands, with South Jersey teeming with these local treasures.

While New Jersey is famous for its sweet corn, it also produces tomatoes, blueberries, and cranberries. Every farm stand showcases a wide array of produce, from potatoes and onions to peppers, zucchini, herbs, and fruits.

Chapter 3: A Visit to Myers Farm Market

Close to my home lies Myers Farm Market, a family-owned farm stand dedicated to selling the produce they cultivate. In my view, a distinction exists between a farm stand, a farm market, and a farmer's market. A farmer's market features various vendors selling everything from baked goods to local meats, while a farm market offers a wider selection for tourists. A farm stand, however, is typically a simple setup focused on selling the farm's own produce with minimal overhead.

Despite its formal name, Myers Farm is a classic farm stand and an excellent one at that.

Most people think of farm stands as summer hubs, but late summer and early fall offer some of the best selections. You’ll find everything from the last tomatoes and corn to sweet potatoes, pumpkins, and apples.

Fancier roadside stands often sell items not directly grown on the farm, such as honey, artisanal cheese, and baked goods. They may also include produce not native to New Jersey, like citrus, to appeal to those less familiar with seasonal eating.

On a perfect 62°F day with blue skies, I took a short drive to the farm market—walking or biking wasn't an option on the busy road. Upon arrival, the farm stand buzzed with activity, with several cars parked and a steady stream of customers coming and going. The offerings included apples, pumpkins, corn, and more.

The friendly woman running the stand was a delightful improvement over her predecessor. With her two young girls often present, I was curious about their new puppies, which she happily shared about as they appeared with their adorable dogs—a cream-colored pup and a darker one.

After chatting with the girls and checking out my selections, I brought my items to the checkout. The woman inquired about my recent trip—a detail my wife likely shared during her frequent visits. I was pleasantly surprised that she recognized me, thanks to my eye-catching bright orange Mini Cooper.

Chapter 4: Finding Joy in the Ordinary

I have a knack for romanticizing even the most mundane aspects of life. As I worked in the yard today, listening to Garrison Keillor reflect on aging, I found myself nodding in agreement. He spoke about how much of what he knows now would have been valuable in his forties. It resonated with me, thinking about how I, at 54, could benefit from that wisdom.

I’m not ready to check out just yet, but I've realized that my happiness doesn’t hinge on the state of American society. The world will continue its course, indifferent to my concerns. This is the nature of culture; older generations eventually step aside, making way for the young, who will reinvent things in ways we may not understand.

Perhaps I've reached that point where I still care, but not deeply. I know people, especially older women, who remain entrenched in the chaos, and they don’t seem happier for it. I want to avoid that fate.

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