Breaking Through the Fear: The First Day of Local Roots
Before I dive into my first day running Local Roots back in 2011, I want to give a special shoutout to my paid subscribers! I genuinely appreciate all of you—sharing my stories and being a trusted food source is something I love. But as I close a major chapter of Local Roots and step into the unknown, figuring out what the next phase of my career looks like outside of my company, it’s both exciting and terrifying to build a new revenue stream as Wen-Jay and not just Local Roots. Your support means the world to me. Every dollar counts as a small business owner without outside investors, and your vote of confidence keeps me going—so thank you!
As a paid subscriber, I try to guess your spirit veggie! 🥕🥬 These are my guesses for my two newest paid subscribers—let me know if I got it right or totally missed the mark! 😆👇
Pauline - I tried to guess your spirit veggie based on the other substacks you subscribe to. I thought of bright and colorful when I saw you read Sara Tane’s substack. Her food is always vibrant and she’s a ray of sunshine.
Biscuits and Chandani - I’m suggesting ramps because they go really well with ramps I also looked up what “Chandani” means, and stars and moon makes me also think of ramps. Seeing the stars and a full moon in the city feels like such a rare occasion, just like finding a field of ramps!
Now it’s time to bring you back to the Summer of 2011, when my playlist was probably mostly Brooklyn bands I was friends with and punk-ish girl bands.
I sat on my sofa, trying to focus on my breathing. You’re not going to have a panic attack. You’re not going to faint. You’re not going to fail. You’re okay. Just take it one step at a time.
Step 1: Wait for Yeshi to pick you up.
Step 2: Get to the farmers market.
Step 3: Meet the farmer, transfer items to the car, and drop them off at the first Local Roots pick-up location.
That was all I had to do. Just get in the car. Don’t text Yeshi that you’re not feeling well—it’s all in your mind. Just start.
That’s how I remember my first day of Local Roots— and I had to obsessively break it down into steps so I wouldn’t spiral. It felt like going on stage to play music: stop thinking about the crowd, just get to the stage, plug in your bass, go through the motions, and eventually, it starts to feel natural.
I wish I had journaled about it, filmed a vlog, or even posted on Tumblr (because, well, it was 2011). But I didn’t. All I have are scattered memories of that day—the nerves, the adrenaline, and the feeling of being completely alone in the unknown yet totally determined. I actually had to text Yeshi while writing this article to make sure my memory was accurate and for him to fill in some blanks.
At the time, it was just me. No employees. No real infrastructure. The only person I had by my side was Yeshi, a former coworker from Red Jacket Orchards. We used to run the farm stand together, and I knew I could count on him—he was reliable, had a car, and could lift heavy boxes. Most of my friends were in their early 20s and in bands, and no shade to them, but I didn’t think they’d be the most dependable.
I had no real storage—just a single rented pallet in a cold storage unit at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, back when it was mostly abandoned warehouses, long before it became what it is now. It felt like a secret world, getting access to those spaces that weren’t yet open to the public. That pallet cost me $250 (or maybe $150) a month—a steal compared to the $7,500 I now pay for my warehouse.
To keep overhead close to $0, I had to get creative. I’d meet farmers at their market stands, quietly coordinating wholesale orders and meeting the a block away from the farmers market since many of them weren’t technically allowed to sell in bulk to outside vendors at that time. Keep in mind that outside of restaurants wholesale accounts and their own CSAs, farmers didn’t really have revenue streams outside of the farmers markets. A business like mine that was a middleman for local farmers didn’t really exist. I tried to only schedule CSA pickups on days when farmers were already selling at farmers markets in the city.
The First Pick-Up
The first market was at 61 Local in Cobble Hill on Monday, June 6, 2011. My friend Cathy Erway had introduced me to Dave, the owner, a few months earlier. Dave and I were both launching our businesses the same year, and Dave was committed to making his bar a true community space and a hub for local businesses. And honestly, I haven't found many bars that have done it as well as he did—local beers, local wines, kombucha, and from day one, Local Roots pick-ups.
Walking into 61 Local that first day felt like the first day of college, but times a thousand. And instead of a shower caddy, people had reusable bags. Sub the “what major are you” convo with “what are you going to do with [insert vegetable]”. I didn’t know who my customers were, they didn’t know who I was, and I wasn’t sure how they’d react when they saw how young I was. Even though I had lived in that neighborhood for years, many of them were likely my neighbors—people I had unknowingly passed on the street countless times, as is so common in NYC. CSAs in NYC at the time were mostly run by volunteers who were at least 20-40 years older than me. Would they trust me? Would they doubt me? I didn’t have time to dwell on it—I just had to get my sh*t done.