the notuary.: Perth, Part 2: The Real Melting Pot

The Real Melting Pot

Fremantle’s immigrant culture is not just for touristic show. In the hyper-local Growers’ Green Farmers’ Market, racial integration is promoted by smoked salmon, Persian cakes, tortillas, and even potted plants.

Ethnic integration comes alive at Fremantle's Growers' Green Farmers' Market.

White Australia is no more, at least in Fremantle. I reached this conclusion after a Sunday morning spent browsing the stalls in the Growers’ Green Farmers’ Market. In its place is a tightly-knit local community of diverse cultures who bond over a common love: of quality market produce.

Compared to the famous Fremantle Markets in the city centre, this hyper-local counterpart is an undiscovered gem populated by even more diverse cultures, such as Persian, Salvadorian, Japanese, and Chinese. Its authenticity– such that everyone knows each other on a first-name basis – almost made me feel bad for intruding on someone else’s neighbourhood.

Yet, rather than guard their secret jealously, its inhabitants are eager to share. When I identified myself as a journalist, John King, a volunteer of the South Fremantle Senior High Parents and Citizens Committee that organises the Sunday market on the high school grounds, asked me to tell readers that “the fat guy at the gate will take care of ya!”

(Not) By Invitation. Every Sunday, the private community takes off its fences and demonstrates a unique local hospitality.

As “the jolly mobile traffic light”, John helps with car parking for visitors since “we didn’t insure the front lawn”. In return, visitors can donate spare change into a big metal tin that the parking wardens carry. The money raised from donations and stall rentals are then used to fund school programmes such as camping trips and environmental initiatives.

The market, as manager Georgie Adeane said, was conceptualised as an “alternative to supermarket shopping”. Rather than promote impersonal buying from shelves, it focuses on bringing both the producer and consumer together by selling grower-direct fruit, vegetables, and potted plants, as well as food such as pastries and burgers. The result is a true bazaar that transact beyond money and products.

Here's a Charmer with Honeyed Words. A friendly proprietor of Colombian descent, manning a stall that sells organic honey products.

Oh, but for the Love of Food

The love of quality fare is probably a unifying trait for both vendors and patrons alike. Don Heather’s smoked products cut across these nationalities. He sells Irish whiskey cured smoked salmon, which is an Irish-inspired, but wholly Australian invention. The cuisine was a fortunate accident, as he misread “smoked by whisky oak barrels” as the alcohol alone. Yet, it won him nationwide fame as a “mastersmoker” chef and great demand for the dish in the nineties.

Despite scaling down his operation to a simple Sunday stall, Don’s specialties have caught on even with expatriates. His smoked olive oil and semi-dried tomatoes passed even regular customer Karine Boulmier’s strict French standards, who normally deem Australian cuisine too overpowering. The French, she said, “are crazy about their markets, and if they had their way, half the restaurants here should close down”. Yet, Growers’ Green’s immunity to these food purists suggests that there is something universal amongst cultures after all.

Bon jour, Mastersmoker. Even the French taste buds agree with Don's smoked specialties.

Even ethnic desserts transverse these racial differences. The Persian-influenced cakes made by housewife Parvin Bahremand sold out even before the market closed. Perhaps the extra bit of effort to cater to the healthy-minded Australian helped. While there is the typical Iranian influence of saffron, almond, and macadamia, her cakes are also gluten-free. There are even vegan options for the dietary-conscious.

Purr with Pleasure. Even the health-conscious would agree with Parvin's gluten-free, vegan Persian cakes.

Parvin also has a bigger purpose in mind: to continue popularising these Persian-Australian fusion desserts amongst the locals. This is despite the tedious process of baking ninety cakes – the work is so hectic that she sometimes has “only one hour available, which is to bathe”. Yet, the pride on her face because of the community’s acceptance of her pastries was obvious, as she kept lamenting how I should been there earlier to see the bulk of her cakes being “devoured by the locals”.

Same Same, but Different: Repackaging Australian Culture

Ethnicities are not the only that sell. The novelty of an unfamiliar body embodying Australian culture does equally well. The Salvadorian mother-and-daughters team has acquired the talkative Australian candour, which they put to good use in chatting up the snaking line of patrons who wait hungrily for their Salvadorian Pupusas (tortillas filled with cheese and kidney beans).

Even though I approached them at this busy period, that humour was still intact.

“Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”

A toothy smile. “How much are you giving us?”

“So, uh…. That’s a yes?”

“Yes… and no.”

Not something I expected, but after spending close to six years in the hawker trade, Leticia, Iliana, and Anna seem to have fully mastered Australian banter. There was a fluidity to the verbal to-and-fro between them and their patrons as they flipped the tortillas on the outdoor grill.

The Salvadorian family gamely pose for a photo.

Other than chatting up their customers, Australian entertainment is in their blood as well. Restaurant rentals are too expensive in Perth, so the family business tries to “do big music festivals to generate more word-of-mouth”. Once people try Salvadorian food, “they can’t get enough!” This local acclaim, coupled with their Australianised nature, seem to be the main draw for customers.

Yet, some have assimilated so well into the community that they are essentially Australians selling Australian products. Margaret Wong, who emigrated from Malaysia more than 40 years ago, is one such example. She does brisk business selling potted plants to gardening enthusiasts with a perfect Australian accent.

Her gardening expertise is very Australian as well in the nature-loving and land abundant country. Despite having less than one acre of space in her backyard, she constructed a patio to shield her plants from the sun. Even her stall space is handpicked. She insists on setting up shop in Growers’ Green because of its grass field, which is not as hot for plants compared to concrete pavements in the Fremantle Markets.

This gardening knowledge has impressed the locals, who probably do not expect a Chinese to take up an Australian pastime. Even gardening hobbyists stop for a prolonged chat with her as she freely shared her experience with high-chill and low-chill plants, soil variety, and fertilizer use. To Margaret, the Australian saying “customers are your bread-and-butter” rings true, and “it’s all about building a personal relationship with Aussies so that they’ll come back.”

The influx of new immigrants has led Australians to question its national culture and integration issues. Yet, Growers’ Green has demonstrated that integration can occur in a simple marketplace, by interacting with other ethnicities that might not be all that different. Perhaps the enduring aspect to Australian culture is its subtle welcome to all new inhabitants. As I left the market, Margaret pulled over in a dingy old Volvo, and gave this mere acquaintance a lift. A morning spent experiencing the diverse cultures that call the community home already makes me feel like one of them.