Are those local farmers' markets a good thing?

We've got a farmer's market in town. It sets up shop once a week, and I've been there once. This idea has become something of a fad everywhere. I guess the idea is that you get very fresh produce, and you also get to pretend that you're saving the plant by buying broccoli not trucked from California.

Well ...

According to The New York Times: A surprising investigation by the local NBC affiliate in Los Angeles discovered several examples of false claims at various Southern California farmers’ markets, including a vendor who purchased boxes of produce from wholesale produce warehouses, including items grown on big commercial farms as far away as Mexico.

So how do you know?

Operators of farmers markets we spoke to suggest shoppers get to know vendors they buy from, and ask them a lot of questions. Ask for the exact location of the farm where the produce is grown. If they claim their produce is “pesticide free,” ask them what methods they use to control pests on their crops. Ask exactly when the produce was picked. If the farmer can’t give you specific answers, or seems unwilling to answer your questions, market operators say you should walk away.

The Wall Street Journal weighs in with another perspective on the local markets: Patronizing local farmers who produce in small batches tends to cost more. You may find some peak-season bargains at the farmers' market, but there's no such thing as a free locavore lunch. Virginia Postrel writes:

The locavore ideal is a world without trade, not only beyond national borders but even from the next state: no Florida oranges in Colorado or California grapes in New Mexico, no Vidalia onions in New York or summer spinach in Georgia.

Fully realized, that ideal would eliminate one of the great culinary advances of the past half century. Unripe peaches notwithstanding, today's supermarket produce departments are modern marvels. American grocery shoppers have choices that would have been unimaginable only a few decades ago. When I was growing up in the 1960s and 1970s, the only way to get fresh spinach or leaf lettuce was to plant a garden. Avocados were an exotic treat, asparagus came in a can, and pomegranates existed only in books.

Now my neighborhood supermarket sells five types of lettuce, plus spinach, endive, escarole, radicchio, frisée, rapini, three kinds of chard, mustard greens, dandelion greens and kale. That's not including all the cabbages—or, of course, the prewashed salads in a bag that have particularly boosted fresh-spinach purchases. In this ordinary produce department, you can buy not only avocados, asparagus and pomegranates, but everything from purple baby cauliflowers to spiky kiwano melons that look like some kind of scary deep-sea creature. Need portobello mushrooms, Japanese eggplant or organic ginger at 2 a.m.? The store is open 24/7.

 The most important thing, in my opinion, is how close to the door you can park.