STOCKHOLM, Maine – Residents of a tiny Aroostook County town are the first to launch a food market in keeping with the spirit and rules of Maine’s food sovereignty laws.
The people behind Stockholm Sovereign Market hosted their third members-only market on Saturday, July 6, featuring locally produced dairy products, breads, baked and canned goods and herbal teas from nearly a dozen vendors.
At first glance, the event looked like a traditional farmer’s market. Vendors set up at designated spaces around the community center’s gymnasium, chatting with customers about their products.
But there’s a big difference. All food vendors at Stockholm’s market pay $5 to lease their spots for the year, and are not required to seek state licenses and certifications to sell their products. Shoppers pay $5 yearly dues to belong to the market and cannot enter without proof of membership. They also sign a risk waiver that prevents them from suing the market and vendors if they suspect that food from there made them sick.
The market is possible because of a recent, quiet expansion to the 2017 Food Sovereignty Act that allows unlicensed sellers to vend outside of their production spaces for the first time. The amendment is the latest development in the growing movement’s nearly 15-year history in Maine, which has been marked by passion for individual freedoms on one side and concerns about food safety on another.
“We want to connect people with farmers and growers directly without a third party involved,” said Jerry Ferszt, founder and president of the Stockholm Sovereign Market. “People are looking for more personal responsibility and more knowledge on how their food is grown.”
The act let municipalities pass ordinances allowing residents to sell food directly to customers without a license or inspections from the Maine Department of Agriculture, Conservation and Forestry. Meat and poultry still must be processed in state-inspected facilities, with some exceptions for small bird producers, a provision added following pressure from federal agencies.
Some sellers feel burdened by licensing, or value the local control, community connection, small business opportunities and personal decision-making that food sovereignty offers. In fact, the first version of the Food Sovereignty Act was titled “An Act To Recognize Local Control Regarding Food Systems.”
Since farmers on the Blue Hill Peninsula began organizing for food sovereignty ordinances in 2011, that independence has been a focus for advocates. Supporters have also said that Maine farmers always sold and shared with their neighbors, which the ordinances now allow them to do in the open.
Traditional farmers markets will likely see continued conflict and tension over the expansion and have some “hard discussions” ahead about whether to allow unlicensed vendors, said Jimmy DeBiasi, executive director of the Maine Federation of Farmers Markets.
This year, Ferszt was elected to serve as president of Stockholm’s nonprofit market, which has 177 members so far, including vendors and customers.
There’s no formal tally of how many Maine towns have food sovereignty ordinances; a 2021 list on Local Food Rules counted 113. Not all of them reflect the amendment.
Stockholm passed its ordinance in May 2024 based on a draft from Maine Municipal Association. After many citizen-led meetings, residents realized that a public farmers market would not be subject to the sovereignty laws and would require state certification for any vendors unless they sell eggs and produce.
So residents agreed to start up a “private membership association” to host market events that comply with the Food Sovereignty Act, which allows direct producer-to-consumer transactions on land owned, leased, or rented by food producers, including through “buying clubs.”
Ferszt lives in New Sweden and owns Ferszt Family Farm with his wife Nicole. As a member of that town’s planning board, he is helping to craft a potential food sovereignty ordinance based on the MMA draft he has given to town officials. Ferszt said that many other towns, like Woodland and Blaine, have requested ordinance samples.
Without food sovereignty status, growers in other towns cannot join Stockholm’s market unless they sell produce or eggs, Ferszt said.
So far no market customers have complained about potential foodborne illnesses, Ferszt said.
The state hasn’t received reports of foodborne illnesses from sovereign food producers either, according to Maine’s inspection program manager Ben Metcalf. He said it’s difficult to track anyway due to the state’s self-reliant character, the long incubation periods of some foodborne illnesses and the unlikelihood many people will go to the doctor for them.
Though Stockholm market vendors must list ingredients so that customers can protect themselves against food allergies, they otherwise are expected to adhere to basic sanitary cooking practices without governmental oversight.
“This is the personal responsibility part,” Ferszt said. “We don’t want anyone to get sick, and hope that anyone would go to the farmer directly if they have concerns.”
Traditional farmers market organizers largely opposed the recent food sovereignty amendment, and sovereign markets, over concerns for their sellers, information available to consumers and the reputation of Maine-grown products. If someone got sick from sovereign food, they fear it would disrupt the multi-million-dollar farmers market and small farm industries here.
Requiring sales to be face-to-face at the point of production was a key part of the original law that the federation “loved,” Debiasi said, and the state agriculture department supported. It didn’t support the expansion.
“Expanding the scope of the Maine Food Sovereignty Act so broadly that essentially anyone can sell almost any product to anyone anywhere enhances the scale of risk to Maine residents as well as the tens of millions of visitors we welcome each year,” wrote Craig Lapine, director of the Bureau of Agriculture, Food and Rural Resources in that department.
Primary bill sponsor Billy Bob Faulkingham, R-Winter Harbor, introduced the amendment as a common sense change.
“We have a bill to allow the sale of these products, but completely limit their ability to distribute,” he testified. “I feel that people should be able to buy these products if the consumer and the producer have an agreement.”
At last Saturday’s market, many vendors saw Stockholm’s model as the best way to reach customers without the expensive and long process of getting state certified.
If they make their food at home and want a license, they must test their well water, have their septic system inspected and get shelf stability tests for canned or jarred foods. Supporters counter that the licensing process is inexpensive and not difficult in exchange for the benefits sellers receive.
About 9,000 operations are licensed today, according to Metcalf. It’s difficult to track whether people are now letting their licensing lapse to become food sovereign producers, but he believes it’s likely happened.
Kif Thacker and Karma Swaney of Les Si Fa Family Farm in Frenchville sold raw goats milk and other dairy products Saturday. Thacker and Swaney advocated for creating a food sovereignty ordinance in Frenchville to help farms like theirs who want to sell without state certifications or licensing. That ordinance was enacted this year.
“Without the [food sovereignty] law, we can’t sell our products,” Swaney said.
In rural areas like Aroostook County, the law’s expansion also makes sales easier for small producers. Instead of customers traveling to their homes — a provision to let buyers see production conditions — sellers can use other locations or join together to sell at a destination. In addition to Stockholm, a smaller, less formal market without a membership structure has formed in Hodgdon.
“That was happening around the state without the amendment, and we had to deal with it on the regulatory side,” Metcalf said.
Alexandra Lord of Stockholm sold homemade stromboli, pies, cookies and canned rhubarb as a hobby many years ago but started selling again in June after joining Stockholm’s market.
Lord said the market allows hobby bakers like her to sell without a license but still educate customers on where their food comes from.
“At a store, you don’t always know if there’s something in the food that you shouldn’t eat, like food dyes,” Lord said. “People here take pride in the quality [of their food].”
