A slice of life on the farm

The farmer's daughter has spiky black hair, 4-inch heels and rock-star dreams.

But under all of that, she knows apples. How to grow them, how to pick them, how to operate the machines. (How to wreck them, too.) Best, Jenny Madden, 20, knows how to sell apples: slice by slice in front of her family's Earth Conscious Organics bin at Whole Foods. You can find her most afternoons, brandishing her Global knife ("The best, man") and an innate sense of the power of produce.

I joined her at the Bellevue store recently, glad to shake the hand that knows the fruit that rolls around in my fridge.

Of course, that's hardly a rare occurrence around here. Anyone who looks up from the table at area farmers markets will come face to face with the grower. That dirt under their nails is the same stuff you'll be washing off the potatoes later.

But there is an urgency to farming; a willingness to do what it takes to keep the crop in people's kitchens and your name on their tongues. And if that means Madden rushing from her voice lessons to the produce aisle, so be it.

"We just knew that we were an organic orchard and for us to survive, we had to do it a little differently," said Janice Madden from the family farm in Brewster, near Lake Chelan.

It seems to be working. Sales of organic food in the United States have grown by 17 to 20 percent a year for the past few years, according to the Organic Trade Association.

"People really want to do something to support family farms, and they don't know what to do," said Jenny's father, Paul Madden, a fourth-generation farmer who grows 15 varieties of apples and five varieties of cherries.

"So when they see a family farmer show up, we're like a dying breed, a museum piece."

Jenny Madden embodies an interesting mix of farm and future. She loves her home but has dreams bigger than her family's 40 acres.

"If the business keeps growing," she said, "I would come back." It's so much a part of her, after all. "I grew up thinking everyone knew about apples."

On this day, Madden was passing out slices of Pinova apples — a cross between the German Heirloom and the Golden Delicious apple.

She rolled out a cutting-board-topped cart from the store's back room, grabbed an apple from the bin and started slicing. In seconds, she was surrounded: A woman with a kid in the cart. Two young men who lingered over Madden. A woman who took a slice, then promptly bagged four apples.

"People expect you to be wearing overalls and boots with freckles," Madden said. "But I really like sampling, because you get to meet a lot of people."

For years, all she saw were apples. The orchards begin steps from her front door.

Imagine. Honeycrisps as far as the eye can see. Demand for that variety has forced Paul Madden to push others aside. They're a pain to grow, he said, but good for business.

Even better, though, is Jenny and her Global, slicing up samples, he said.

"She's doing exactly what I was doing," he said.

But in higher heels.

Nicole Brodeur's column appears Tuesday and Friday. Reach her at 206-464-2334 or nbrodeur@seattletimes.com.

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