While I like to hunt for little gems “off the beaten path” to share with readers, I haven’t forgotten why the path itself is well-trodden. Today, I pay homage to a time-tested favorite: the Downtown Farmers Market at Pioneer Park in Utah.
It’s hard to believe it’s been around for 34 years. Like so many farmers markets all over the country, it’s evolved from a handful of stands offering home-grown fruits, vegetables, meats, eggs, dairy and honey into lines of arts and crafts stalls and food trucks. It’s been the launchpad for many of Salt Lake’s most successful and iconic businesses—yes, Bruges Waffles and The Bagel Project were once just a food truck and a dream. You might even remember when Rico Mexican Foods, Saffron Valley, Laziz Kitchen, Licke’d Popsicles or Sweet Lake Biscuits and Limeade were just making a name for themselves as charming little stalls or trucks.
And while they’re all grown up with a proper storefront now, many haven’t exactly flown the coop. The line for fresh limeade at the Sweet Lake stand every Saturday isn’t going anywhere.
“The limeade stand started 19 years ago, and it was so successful that the owners opened a breakfast and lunch restaurant and expanded the menu,” says Tara Sperry, who manages the stand. “But the Farmers Market is still one of our biggest money-makers.”
Every June through the end of October, from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., the Downtown Farmers Market serves as a community gathering space, even hosting hair-brained stalls like the “Old Coots,” where folks line up to get free advice from old guys.
For years, the “Old Coots” gathered at Caputo’s Market and Deli, sipping coffee and shooting the breeze with their leader, Tony Caputo. Later, they set up some lawn chairs by his stall at the Farmers Market and put up a sign: “Old Coots Giving Advice: It’s probably bad advice, but it’s free.”
People started wandering over—after years, they still do. Even though Tony passed away in 2021, the “Old Coots” live on, and so does the line of market-goers asking for advice on everything from cheating husbands to pets to what kind of car they should buy.
I’m a regular at the market—a sucker for the bakery stalls, apple cider slushies and unique artsy gifts. My daughter loves to shop for turquoise jewelry (the only thing stopping her from buying more is the simple fact that she is out of real estate—every finger is taken, every square inch of her ears). I tend to eat my way through baked goods and limeade, then I inevitably buy a carton of apricots, raspberries, cherries, or whatever fruit is at its peak. Sometimes I buy a jar of lavender honey or pineapple salsa or whatever is new and interesting.
After I’m loaded down with food, I love soaking in the creativity that surges through the market. One woman’s passion for crochet has evolved into a stall filled with wearables and home decor. Another guy makes astounding treasures out of leather. I spotted longtime artist Stephanie Swift’s Pretty Little Pixel stall. She digitally illustrates iconic neon signs from around Salt Lake City, selling her art at the Farmers Market since 2015. Her prints and wood blocks tickle nostalgists like me who love gazing at the city’s old-timey signs like the Villa Movie Theater, Ex Wife’s Place, Blue Plate Diner, Dee’s, CarpeTown and Snelgroves.
“The Farmers Market makes up the majority of my livelihood,” Swift says between conversations, hugs and hellos from fellow artists and friends. “The other six months of the year I take on freelance art and graphic design work.”
Of course, there are many new faces at the Market, too. AmsterDam Delicious (Dutch stroopwafels), Do Young Kimchi, Beehive Freeze Honey Slush, Girls Who Smash (burgers), Grumpy Dough (Filipino sandwiches), Heat Street (hot sauces) and at least a dozen more are exciting new additions for 2025.
I wonder if this will be the origin story for the next wave of Utah’s favorite restaurants. Time will tell, but upon my 12:30 arrival, a few of these new stalls were plumb out of food—they may still be feeling their way through the supply process, but whatever the reason, it’s a good problem to have.
Since Utah prides itself on all things bee-related, I think the honey slush-makers are on to something. I haven’t even tried their product yet—they were out of slush and packing up. As I walk back to my car, I’m already planning an earlier arrival time next week so I can get a taste —I’m sure I’ll need another carton of apricots and another loaf of sourdough bread anyway. My daughter catches up to me, and…ope, it looks like she bought yet another ring. I guess she’s hoping to grow another finger.
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