News

Noah Byler would love for you to come to his farm in Smicksburg to buy vegetables, but he realizes it's a little out of the way.

In a patchwork of hundreds of small farms connected by dirt roads dotted with mailboxes, hand-lettered signs point the way to shops such as the harness maker's, the buggy repairman's, the metal roofer's, the lumber yard, the butter, egg and cheese seller's. Byler, who is Amish, is part of a growing community tucked away in the farmland of Indiana County.

Byler can't get good prices for fresh produce at home, because most of his neighbors grow their own food. So, he has found a new customer base among the Yanks at the Ligonier Country Market.

In appearance and lifestyle, the Amish are living reminders of the Civil War era, so it's not surprising to learn they call Northerners Yanks and Southerners Rebels.

Byler finds the 50-minute drive to the Ligonier Country Market every Saturday morning in summer worthwhile.

"The people are friendly. Really friendly," he said. "And there are lots of vendors offering lots of variety. Variety draws customers."

The Amish travel locally by horse and buggy. For longer trips on roads such as Route 119, where non-motorized vehicular traffic is prohibited, Byler hires a taxi. Gene Philippi, a former coal miner, makes a small income by transporting the Amish in his pickup truck.

"When you first meet the Amish, you don't know what to think of them," Philippi said. "They don't open up. Once you have gained their trust, you'll find they're very personable."

The Amish trust Philippi to take them where they want to go; he puts 1,000 miles on his truck each week. When he started the taxi service, Philippi knew only three Amish by name. Now he knows 12 by the name of John Miller alone. Small Amish boys try to stay out of his way because Philippi is "the guy who pulls the hats down."

The inconvenience of hiring a taxi to transport Byler's produce to the Ligonier Country Market is further complicated by the lack of electrically powered refrigeration. So that his vegetables won't spoil, Byler waits until Friday afternoon and evening to pick them.

Normally in bed by 9 p.m., Byler, his wife, Barbara, and their eight children stay up past midnight Friday to get ready for Saturday's market. In addition to vegetables, they pack cartons of eggs from their 50 hens in coolers with ice, and wrap bread and pies freshly baked in their wood-burning oven. On Saturday, they're up by 4 in the morning to do last-minute packing. Because the Amish don't turn their clocks ahead for daylight-saving time, it feels like 3 in the morning.

Byler is a sawyer by trade, working weekdays at Van Voorhis Sawmill, which is cooperatively owned and operated by the Amish. This is only the second year Byler has grown vegetables for sale. Until now, his family has eaten everything they grew. The leisure hours after work that were once spent fishing are now devoted to expanding the family's garden into a truck farm.

"Who has time to fish? I haven't bothered to get a fishing license," Byler says. "I suppose I could go in the fall ... when the fish aren't biting."

Fourteen-year-old Allen Byler accompanies his father on the weekly trip to the market. He wears a straw hat over long hair, a shirt with stand-up collar, denim pants with a flap instead of a zipper and carpenter's pockets at the knees, held up by suspenders, and farmer's boots. He said he feels accepted by people at the Ligonier Country Market, noting, "They're used to seeing me."

Noah Byler agrees that customers have come to accept him. "At first, they were scared of me," he said. "They weren't convinced what we eat is good."

He said he sold watermelons last season that looked different from those sold at grocery stores, which aren't quite ripe. A woman who didn't know what qualities to look for in a melon asked Byler to choose one for her. He promised to give her money back if she didn't like it. The next week the woman came back. Byler didn't know what to expect. The woman said it was the best watermelon she'd ever tasted and she bought another one.

Unable to surf the Internet or easily access news and information about farming, Byler's best resource outside the Amish community is the Ligonier Country Market.

Bob Ambrose, an established grower and vice president of the Ligonier Country Market, is generous with advice: "Asparagus. Every grower should have some. You buy 1,000 plants at a cost of $150 to $200. You weed it for two years. With eight kids to help with the weeding, that shouldn't be a problem for you. In the third year you have 1,000 pounds of asparagus at $3.50 per pound. And it goes on forever."

Ambrose also recommended kohlrabi for the niche market, adding, "I may hold the world record for the sale price of kohlrabi."

He regaled Byler with a story.

While delivering produce to a restaurant's kitchen, Ambrose walked through the bar. A bar patron asked how much he wanted for a kohlrabi the size of a bocce ball in his hand. Thinking of the chef, Ambrose hesitated. The bar patron said, "I'll give you $10." Sold.

Ambrose, whose market stall displays a poster from the Pennsylvania Department of Agriculture urging all to Buy Fresh, Buy Local, said, "Don't undervalue your product. You've got the best stuff."

"We're really happy to have the Amish at the Ligonier Country Market," Ambrose said.

• Most Read
• Most E-mailed
• Latest News