Here’s what The Farmer and the Chickpea is, and what it isn’t.
The Farmer and the Chickpea may be new to Quakertown, but it’s not by any means new; it’s been operating out of commercial kitchen space in New Jersey and serving farmers’ markets in the Garden State for at least a decade.
And The Farmer and the Chickpea may serve lots of dishes with farm-fresh veggies and its namesake legume, the chickpea, but it’s not an exclusively plant-based eatery; meatloaf is one of its biggest sellers.
As of January 2020, The Farmer and the Chickpea, owned by Ashley Stratton and Jillian Godfry, found a new home in a rustically renovated former garage in Quakertown. Opening a business that can seat almost 300 people at a time when people wanted delicious food to go (hello, pandemic) of course presents its own challenges, but The Farmer and the Chickpea was met with such runaway success it necessitated a parking lot expansion.
“We had the busiest eight weeks of our lives,” says Godfry.
“We thought it would be a slow trickle. But it was like Mick Jagger was in the store. The line of cars never stopped,” says Stratton.
The Farmer and the Chickpea seeks to redefine your expectations when it comes to food. It’s a café, but it’s also a store and, currently, it’s also an ice cream stand. By the time this is published, other elements best described as “attractions” will undoubtedly be added to the experience of this charming and welcoming spot, one with lots of delicious comfort foods you can either eat there or take with you. Have a seat at one of the upcycled tables and chairs, clearly designed to evoke a farmhouse experience, or peruse the marketplace full of small-batch purveyors of the likes of soap, maple syrup, pickles and more.
1 of 3
Have a seat at one of the upcycled tables and chairs, clearly designed to evoke a farmhouse experience, or peruse the marketplace full of small-batch purveyors of the likes of soap, maple syrup, pickles and more.
2 of 3
Cheeseburger Lasagna - Fresh pasta sheets layered with ground beef, cheddar cheese, red onions and tomatoes, with ricotta and mozzarella cheese topped with crispy onion ring.
3 of 3
BLMT - Crispy oven-roasted chicken topped with applewood-smoked bacon, lettuce, fresh mozzarella and tomatoes, served with fresh basil pesto on an Italian baguette.
The way Stratton tells it, she and Godfry accidentally began their career in food when they were working as event planners at a bridal shower and the caterers didn’t show up one day.
“It was chicken salad. I thought, ‘How hard can this be?’’’ asks Stratton. That question crystalizes Stratton’s philosophy. What started as a simple foray into chicken salad led to the acquisition of a “beat-up oven, a stainless steel table and a Pepsi refrigerator,” she says. That equipment—and then some—enabled the team to bring an ever-evolving, veggie-loving vision via pop-up Tuscan table dinners, farmers’ market appearances, ad hoc takeout set-ups and more. Much has happened in 10 years, but it’s easy to see that things grow exponentially proportionate to the degree that Stratton can come up with ideas—and Godfry and the rest of the crew can brainstorm and execute. (And sometimes, it seems, faster than that; greenhouses were in the planning stages when I arrived and the coffee bar was in the works.)
“I want people to get the food that I have in my mind. I am over the top, I can’t be mediocre,” says Stratton, laughing, who is nothing if not self-effacing.
So, back to the name. If it’s not exclusively a plant-based business, as the name might suggest, what’s in the name? “We have to give street cred to the farmers, because without them, we wouldn’t be here,” says Stratton. They source from Tri-County Cooperative Market in New Jersey, a cooperative wholesaler, and will continue to buy as fresh and local as possible.
The chickpeas? “I’ve been doing chickpeas for years,” she says. The humble legume occupies some beloved spots on the menu and reflects a Mediterranean approach; Stratton, who’s self-taught in the kitchen, grew up around the fresh fare of her mother and Sicilian grandmother, who always cooked. It was just the way.
The namesake, of course, carries through with the presentation of the food. Yes, it’s farm-fresh and yes, it’s made from scratch. And yes, it’s made with love. But perhaps instead of falling in love with each other over lunch, they’re falling in love with veggies, as Stratton tells it. But it’s something more mysterious, yet really more basic, than that.
“Someone came into the store recently and asked me, ‘What do you put in this food?’ I told him, ‘I put ingredients in it!’” Stratton says, laughing. Suffice to say, people don’t expect the food you order in a fast-casual setting to be delivered with sit-down dining execution—both in terms of quality and quantity.
1 of 3
Italian hospitality standards certainly play into the largesse here, but portion size also reflects the business name. Agricultural workers expend a lot of calories, and The Farmer and the Chickpea could legitimately feed farmers in the morning fueling up for a day’s work in the fields, or replenish their energy with a hearty lunch.
2 of 3
Cauliflower Pizza - A golden roasted mixture of cauliflower, Parmesan cheese, scallions, spinach and peas, topped with spinach, mozzarella and tomatoes.
3 of 3
“Milkshake Beach,” adjacent to their walk-up window, is the latest add-on to the business, The Frozen Farmer. Yes, you’ll get milkshakes, but again, there’s nothing run-of-the-mill about them. Instead, they’re “shovel shakes” because you’re at the beach and you need a shovel to dig into them.
Take, for example, the brunch board, loaded with everything you could probably want (and then some) for brunch, designed to be shared. Think fresh fruit, hunks of French toast, waffles, the tallest and fluffiest quiche wedge you’ve ever seen and probably at least a half-pound of Applegate bacon. (“Some things are so good, I don’t look at the prices,” says Stratton.) It would easily serve four people. Or, for example, their house lasagna, which rotates flavors, but at this writing came in cheeseburger form (complete with some manner of Russian/Thousand Island dressing on top). This is no rinky-dink four-by-four lasagna square. It’s a pasta and meat-based commitment the size of a small barge that slides into dock at your table and requires more than one person—or more than one day—to finish it off. “Ash is Sicilian and she’d rather have to roll you out of here in a wheelbarrow than see you leave here hungry,” says Godfry, laughing.
Italian hospitality standards certainly play into the largesse here, but portion size also reflects the business name. Agricultural workers expend a lot of calories, and The Farmer and the Chickpea could legitimately feed farmers in the morning fueling up for a day’s work in the fields, or replenish their energy with a hearty lunch. More likely, though, you’ll be popping by in the morning for coffee and chocolate croissants before work, perhaps, or sharing the options on the brunch board or the enormous sandwiches for lunch. (But if you are a farmer, they could totally feed you, no problem.)
If you go, there’s lasagna, fresh salads, soups, pot pies, meatloaf, inventive sandwiches and so forth, but we’d be remiss if we didn’t discuss one of the signature dishes, one that sells out consistently at farmers’ markets: the roasted parmesan chickpea bake. Imagine a very thick crust made of just three ingredients: mashed chickpeas, Parmesan cheese and olive oil. It’s then topped with a rotating cast of characters (i.e., veggies), depending on what’s going on; at my visit, it was topped with kale, Parmesan cheese and very red, fresh tomatoes. This versatile gluten-free base definitely requires a knife and fork, and it’s unique and delicious.
The modus operandi with this duo seems to be “don’t think, just do”—Stratton says she doesn’t “plan stuff out with spreadsheets and stuff.” But she knows what she’s doing, and it’s not to say the team here is so whimsical that all caution and preparation go out the window. (Someone’s gotta mash those chickpeas.) It’s more about trusting your own ideas and having an awesome team around you to help visualize them. “We never want it to be about us. It’s about the food and the people who work for us, and our customers,” says Stratton.
Team effort comes up repeatedly in conversations with both Stratton and Godfry, who operate in a remarkable creative flow—one that’s possible through trust and good communication. As we are talking, I’m hearing about the sand that was dumped in the back of the lot to create “Milkshake Beach” adjacent to their walk-up window, just a few days before. It’s the latest add-on to the business, The Frozen Farmer. Yes, you’ll get milkshakes, but again, there’s nothing run-of-the-mill about them. Instead, they’re “shovel shakes” because you’re at the beach and you need a shovel to dig into them. A simple straw will not suffice. And by the time this is printed, you can guarantee other things that neither of them have thought of yet will have surfaced in this expansive space.
That’s because The Farmer and the Chickpea is the direct result of the generosity of its owners and the team they’ve assembled, and the community that makes it possible—the farmers, purveyors and any veggie-curious person who walks through the door wondering what it’s all about, or who’s come back for more. It’s a freewheeling creative space where you’ll receive a great meal full of veggies and simple ingredients. It’s not fast, but it’s definitely casual. It’s an experience to savor.
The Farmer and the Chickpea
1321 W. Broad St., Quakertown | 267.227.3895
*Please check their website and/or social media for current operating hours and procedures.
Hours
Tues.–Thurs.: 9:30 a.m.–6:30 p.m.; Fri. & Sat.: 9:30 a.m.–7:30 p.m.
Parking
Large lot on-site.
What to Order
Hard to narrow it down. You’ve got to try the roasted parmesan chickpea bake. Lasagna, with several people. A brunch board with the family or some friends. Save room for dessert—or come back another time.
