Not until writing about this journey did I realize that I probably should have seen baking was never going to last. This became the foreshadowing journey of what was to come.
It wasn't just Alberta Beach that we presented our fresh baking for purchase. There were various places throughout the years that we presented my skills.
I recall being at the Glenreagh (pronounced Glen-Ray) Farmers' Market, Darwell Farmers' Market, Market at a Seniors Home, Westlock Winter Market, Westlock Farmers' Market, Homeschool Event Sale, Sangudo Market, Fort Assiniboine Farmers' Market, Monday Country Farmers' Market, and Thursday Barrhead Farmers' Market, Fundraisers at Barrhead Co-op and most likely a couple other places that pass my memory.
After leaving Alberta Beach Farmers' Market we started going to Darwell Farmers' Market. It ran the same day only twenty minutes away from A.B. Slowly those that knew me from A.B. started coming to the other market. Darwell was a much slower market compared to Alberta's oldest farmers' Market in the province. From our picture you can see there's vast difference in quantity but a lot of variety. Little would I know how fast this would turn into complete chaos.
I recall one time, an elderly lady was in a wheelchair being pushed along by a nurse. As they approached I told them that I made all the baking and it's all made as fresh as possible. The lady in the wheelchair had an open complaint about my baking stating that a Pie that she had purchased before from us was raw. (That the bottom crust was not baked all the way through.) Looking at the nurse's reaction was clear disbelief and one of strong disapproval. I do have to say I was taken aback by the criticism and before I could really respond a vendor at the wall spoke up saying, The crust isn't raw it's moist followed by another defending my baking. (The nurse ended up showing up later and apologizing for the critique.)
The only criticism I recall receiving came from other bakers as our prices were cheaper. I was a child and arguably didn't have the burden of the cost of living but still when I look at prices these days I can't believe how expensive baking has become since my day.
Fun Fact!
(This was the first and last time I ever received public criticism from any of my baking in all 7 years.)
As I slowly slipped into the groove and people became more comfortable with finding me at Darwell Market more people started showing up at the market and with that more vendors joined. One new particular vendor showed up and we just knew trouble was on the horizon. This "Late gentleman" we will call "Bob" was like a harbinger for us. Very early in baking he liked me and boasted about my baking until he didn't. There was something about his presence that when "Bob" had a table we didn't last long.
A couple short weeks later we received a phone call from the manager stating that during the coming long weekend. My mother would have to set up her table across the narrow hall from us. Under no circumstances was her table allowed to be next to mine and the ultimate reason was. "Because I said so."
(If you are wondering if the market layout made it impossible to have Pascha's two tables next to mine. That is not the case. This was a clear personal issue toward us. We even had a couple vendor friends tell the manager they would move tables so we would share the same wall but it was forbidden. The chaos from Alberta Beach was chasing us away from Darwell too. Right away we knew with "Bob" there we were on borrowed time so leaving wasn't too much of a surprise or as heartbreaking.
As passive vendors we didn't challenge it but we baked our hearts out for this Weekend. We knew it was going to be an amazing day so Granny came along to help with my table as Pascha had to watch her own tables. We had customers waiting 3 people deep for our baking and Pascha sitting across the hall absolutely glowing between her wooden card stands. I'm sure most eyes were on our table but my eyes were on the glowing joy right in front of me.
The week after we stepped away the entire market exploded. Turns out if we went for one more market day we would have been eligible to vote and have a say at the meeting that happened after the market we didn't go to, because of course it would be that market. From what I heard, a fair amount of discourse happened.
This became the first time in about 5 years to not have to bake for a Sunday Farmers' Market but this doesn't mean we just quit baking. We took on other locations.
One Sunday later that year there was a Darwell Agricultural Fair being hosted at the Farmers' Market hall moving the Market into the smaller hall across the gravel parking lot. We went to the event for the fun of it and I entered 6 of the various competitions being hosted. It was all an all blind judging competition, which knowing who was going to judge my mediums helped my chances.
I entered for Handmade Brown Bread, Drop Cookies, Favorite Snack (Which was a Danish), any type of Muffin, Brownie (Marshmallow Brownie Dreams), and Original Poem (Broken Relations)
All of which came in first apart from the Brownie as the judge viewed it as more of a square.
Since we were there we checked out the Market as customers. Stopping at a baking table I read the ingredients list for a product and the vendor herself told me to go away. Clearly I was unwelcome even in a civil matter and it freaked me out as it had never happened to me before.
(We were so unwelcomed at this public fair that those that despised us actually followed us around the fair and market to see who we would talk to.)
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Leaving our slowest market Glenreagh became a mutual opinion between us and the market itself. This is another location that soured over time and one that I personally regret not leaving sooner. I remember playing hours of Super Mario World and Super Mario Bros. 3 with my mom on our Gameboy Advance. Earlier years were better for us back when we were near the center of the hall. I recall wearing a shirt and tie and nice dress shoes to the market. One of the lessons I learnt there was you have to watch what you do at every moment because you are being judged and watched at all times. I was once criticized for wiping the dust off my dress shoes because it was unhygienic to handle packaged food after touching your shoes. (I was probably around 14 at the time) It truly made a ruckus throughout the entire hall but not as big as the rice cake incident. We had our tables pressed up at a distant corner of the hall. Wanting a snack I opened the bag of rice cakes we brought along. Unfortunately the plastic was a little too tough to tear and the bag exploded. Picture this. I'm behind my table of baking and rice cakes went flying in all directions like a landmine had gone off. Pieces landing everywhere in the walkway, near other vendor tables, I'm standing there stunned holding an empty bag.
I believe this is when I was welcomed with open arms to Fort Assiniboine Farmers' Market.
To the point the Manager directed people to my baking even though she was also a baker that was/is clearly allergic to wheat as baking took a toll on her hands. We baked comfortably there until our entire world fell apart.
Thank you for your time
Chance Hansen
Keep Smiling
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