I’m in the Chiquito Meat Corp. grocery on the corner of 2nd and Hooper Streets one Saturday, enrapt by, of all things, a stomach-turning brown spot on an eggplant. There are signs of decay in the chayotes, too. An employee in a butcher’s smock who has seen me jotting notes follows us out onto the sidewalk and begins a nervous dialogue in Spanish with my Ecuadorian companion: the man is worried that I might be a Health Department inspector. In the next grocery, tomatoes and limes, neither of which should be refrigerated, are snuggled next to the cold cuts in a deli case. The retail staple of South Williamsburg’s sprawling Spanish neighborhood is the grungy little deli: there seems to be one of these individually-run, cramped stores on every corner. Most of us wouldn’t mind buying a candy bar from one of them, but a head of lettuce? No way.

Indignation led a youth group from El Puente, a largely Latino neighborhood organization headquartered on South 4th Street, to conduct a survey. Their conclusions jibed with their hunch: members of the community were paying too much for inferior produce. They were being ripped off. El Puente was a perfect candidate to sponsor a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program. They approached Mike and Cheryl Rogowski, farmers from Orange County, New York who at the time were selling their onions at La Marqueta de Williamsburg.

The number of CSAs operating in the US today stands at more than 1,000, and behind that figure is an astonishing growth rate over a relatively brief 16-year period. The mechanics of a CSA are fairly simple: a grassroots organization—typically, a neighborhood, cultural, or religious group—pays a farmer for his crops before they’re even planted. His costs covered, the farmer worries less and is able to devote more time to farming and less to marketing. He has an ongoing dialogue with the group and plants a wide variety of crops based on their needs. Throughout the summer and into late fall, the members of the organization who have signed up for the program—the shareholders—receive a weekly produce delivery that includes a somewhat random variety of vegetables and sometimes other products as well. Though the concept may seem to be quintessentially West Coast, the first CSAs were started by Japanese housewives in the 1960s.

While the motivations among different core groups for starting CSAs range from socially charged reasons to purely economic ones to concern for food wholesomeness, in the end shareholders realize similar advantages. Food is grown locally: 51 miles away in El Puente’s case versus the average 6,000 miles that a supermarket vegetable travels. Food received by shareholders has often been harvested that same day. It’s fresh, seasonal, and eggplants arrive spot-free. Farmers under this system aren’t forced to single out durability and cosmetic appeal when deciding which strains to plant, and can instead focus on flavor, that noble quality that has been made economically obsolete by cross-state and -country shipping and supermarket retailing. And while the Rogowskis who supply El Puente don’t practice organic farming, most CSA farms in the nation do. A majority practice biodynamic farming and crop rotation as well.

Many CSA sponsors are galvanized by a desire to rescue small farms. They also appreciate knowing the source of their food, and being able to communicate directly with a farmer. The name the Japanese gave this system was taikei, which translates as "putting a face on food." Shareholders are encouraged to visit their providing farms, and on farms like the Phillies Bridge Farm Project in nearby Gardiner, New York, shareholders can work on the farm in exchange for a reduced share price. Not least of the CSA system’s attractions is its ability to strengthen communities. Every Saturday during the growing season, for example, members of El Puente’s 25 shareholder families congregate in Espiritu Tierra, El Puente’s community garden on South 2nd Street, to pick up weekly allocations.

As for what the farmers get out of the system, basic survival tops the list. Most CSA farms are small, family-held operations, the type of farm that is being elbowed out by agribusiness. From 1980 to 1995 in the Northeast, an average 150,000 acres of farmland were lost every year, and, more tangibly, 20 farmers went out of business every week. While that trend has been reversed in our region, the small farm story is grim in other parts of the U.S.

The CSA farmers of Five Springs Farm in Bear Lake, Michigan, wrote, "Why should the person who provides something as important as food have to take all the risks?" Why indeed. When a group agrees to pay a farmer for next year’s harvest, the risk posed by unpredictable weather and pestilence is drastically reduced, and potential crop failure does not mean certain disaster for CSA farmers. The risk involved in farming is perceived to be so high that it is very difficult for small farmers to get bank loans. When they do, the loans come with steep, credit card-like interest rates. With financial backing from communities, CSA farmers sidestep inevitable gouging at the bank.

Our region suffered hailstorms this year and a severe drought in ’99. As the bearers of risk, then, have shareholders been shortchanged in seasons vexed by rotten weather? The answer is a qualified no. Shana Berger is the CSA in NYC Program Coordinator for Just Food, a non-profit group that links New York City area core groups and CSA farmers. She says that because participating farmers grow a wide range of crops, a shortfall in one item is simply compensated for with a greater proportion of that year’s bumper crops. A no-go year for Swiss chard, for example, might mean that shareholders receive more onions and carrots.

Many CSA farmers have backgrounds as farmers’ market suppliers, and a number of them still show up at the local markets. Overall, however, the CSA equation offers the farmer a better life. Berger knows one CSA farmer who used to sell his goods in Manhattan. Because he no longer has to put his farm work on hold in order to be in the city two full days a week, his average workday has been cut from 14 hours to 8.

A challenge for converted CSA farmers is expanding offerings from a few crops to many. On their 55-year old black dirt farm, the Rogowskis were once onion specialists. Today, their crops are hyperdiversified. Buffalo Organics, a 60-acre farm in East Aurora, New York, lists a harvest schedule that includes a seemingly impossible, arugula-to-zucchini roster of 36 vegetables, herbs, and fruits.

There are savings for both the buyer and seller in a CSA, but most significantly for the seller. With no middlemen to pay, no marketing costs, and minimal transportation costs, farmers benefit from the system’s economic efficiency. Berger says that for every $1 spent on a supermarket vegetable, roughly 25 cents makes it back to the farmer. Distribution, storage, and marketing costs and the retailer’s operating expenses eat up the difference. On the other hand, nearly every penny of every dollar advanced to CSA farmers stays in their pockets.

CSA shareholders would be likely to pay more in a store for the equivalent of their annual produce windfall. Notwithstanding the savings, having to ante up one lump sum months before goods are delivered must be psychologically difficult for some households. The average price of a CSA share in New York is $375, which compares favorably to share prices around the country. It does seem like a lot to pay for vegetables; keep in mind, however, that every dollar goes to the farmer. Just Foods has worked out a sliding scale for payment whereby the more affluent participants subsidize low-income shareholders.

New York’s 17 CSA programs are all accepting new members now. Visit Just Food’s website at www.justfood.org for a complete list of CSAs and their contact information. If you are a member of a group like El Puente and think your organization might like to sponsor a CSA, read Just Food’s advice on the subject. Shana Berger projects that 2 to 3 new CSAs will be begin in New York City every year.

Brooklyn resident Kris Sherer writes about food and restaurants. She recently returned from cooking school in Lyon, France, where she observed with envy that the origin of every radish, apricot, and package of butter is listed next to its price.