7 things Boomers grew in their backyard that Gen Z now pays a premium for at farmer’s markets

Have you ever wandered through a farmer’s market on a lazy Saturday morning, oat latte in hand, and found yourself marveling at how much people are willing to spend on the simplest things?

A dozen eggs that could cost less at the supermarket suddenly feel special when they’re labeled free-range. A small bundle of rosemary wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine becomes a luxury.

It’s ironic, really. Many of the items that Boomers once grew effortlessly in their own backyards are now the very things Gen Z proudly posts on Instagram after a weekend haul.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for supporting small farmers and local produce. I volunteer at my own community market, and I see firsthand how much care goes into growing food ethically. But I can’t help but laugh sometimes at how the pendulum has swung.

My grandmother, for instance, used to pull carrots from the ground like it was nothing. Dirt still clinging to their sides, she’d rinse them off and toss them into a stew. No marketing label, no rustic basket display, just food.

A few months ago, I paid $5 for a bunch of “organic heirloom carrots with tops attached,” and I caught myself smiling at the full-circle moment.

Maybe this shift isn’t just about food. Maybe it’s about what we’ve lost, the connection to our food, our soil, and the rhythm of the seasons.

So, let’s take a walk down memory lane (or should I say, down the garden path) and revisit a few humble things Boomers grew for free, the very same things Gen Z now spends a small fortune on at the market.

1) Fresh herbs

Let’s start small, literally. Herbs.

Back in the day, every kitchen had a few pots of herbs growing nearby. Basil, mint, chives, parsley, the essentials. My mother had a line of mismatched terracotta pots by the kitchen window, each one bursting with greenery. If she needed flavor for a sauce, she didn’t drive anywhere, she just reached over and snipped a few leaves.

Now? We pay $4 for a tiny bundle of thyme or oregano wrapped in paper. We pay $8 for a “chef’s selection” of mixed herbs that could easily fit in one hand. And yet, we feel good about it because we’re craving freshness, authenticity, and a sense of homegrown connection.

The truth is, herbs are one of the easiest things to grow, even in small spaces. I have a modest herb garden on my apartment balcony, a few pots of basil, rosemary, and mint, and it brings me more satisfaction than any store-bought bunch ever could. There’s something deeply grounding about growing what you eat. It reconnects you to the process.

Maybe that’s why we pay so much for herbs now. Deep down, we’re not just buying flavor; we’re buying that feeling of simplicity, the one Boomers took for granted.

2) Tomatoes

Ah, tomatoes, the crown jewel of any summer garden.

Ask anyone who grew up before the 1980s, and they’ll tell you: nothing beats the taste of a tomato plucked straight off the vine. Juicy, sun-warmed, and fragrant.

Nowadays, tomatoes have become a premium product, especially the so-called “heirloom” varieties. You can easily pay $6 a pound at a farmer’s market, or more if the colors are extra Instagrammable. There’s a romantic nostalgia attached to the word “heirloom.” It suggests something rare, authentic, and worth savoring.

But for Boomers, this wasn’t a luxury. It was a backyard staple. My neighbor once told me his father used to plant so many tomato vines that they’d end up giving baskets of them away to the mailman and the neighbors. They didn’t call them “heritage” or “organic,” they just called them ripe.

It’s funny how we’ve rebranded the ordinary into something extraordinary. Yet, I can’t really complain. If paying a premium for a good tomato helps more people reconnect with real, seasonal produce, maybe that’s a price worth paying.

3) Eggs from backyard chickens

Raise your hand if you’ve ever bought a dozen “pasture-raised, ethically sourced” eggs for $9. Be honest. I’ve done it too.

For Boomers, fresh eggs were just eggs. Chickens were part of the household ecosystem. They ate kitchen scraps, fertilized the soil, and rewarded the effort with fresh eggs daily. There was no marketing campaign behind it, no eco-conscious branding. It was simply how people lived.

Now, backyard chickens have made a comeback, but they’re framed as a sustainable lifestyle choice. There are entire TikTok accounts dedicated to luxury chicken coops, and Gen Zers proudly refer to themselves as “chicken parents.” It’s adorable, but also kind of full circle.

At the farmers’ market where I volunteer, the egg stand always has the longest line. People ask about feed type, housing conditions, and breed, things my grandparents never thought to question. But that curiosity is progress. It means we care again. We’re valuing quality and ethics in a way that feels new, even though it’s really old.

4) Leafy greens

Spinach, kale, collard greens, all the things once boiled to death in a pot by our grandparents have suddenly become the darlings of modern health culture.

The “kale revolution” of the 2010s turned a humble green into a global phenomenon. Kale chips, kale smoothies, kale Caesar salads, you name it. And yes, you can pay $6 for a small bunch at a local market without batting an eye.

But my grandmother grew kale before it was cool. She didn’t call it a “superfood.” She just called it dinner. Every spring, she’d plant rows of collards, mustard greens, and kale, not because it was trendy, but because it was cheap, filling, and nutritious.

I still remember her saying, “If you’ve got greens and potatoes, you’ve got a meal.”

Now, we chase that simplicity through expensive wellness products. The irony isn’t lost on me. But maybe it’s less about the price and more about what those greens represent, nourishment, from the ground up.

5) Root vegetables

Carrots, beets, turnips, radishes, these were once the most unglamorous of vegetables. My dad used to call them “the dirt eaters.” They were the kind of food that filled you up during long winters when nothing else grew.

Now, they’ve become market showstoppers. Rainbow carrots, golden beets, watermelon radishes, they’re practically celebrity vegetables. People photograph them before they eat them.

I remember standing at a market once and overhearing a vendor explain to a young shopper that her radishes were “biodynamic.” The shopper nodded solemnly, clearly impressed. I couldn’t help smiling, my grandfather used to grow the same kind in an old tire filled with soil. He called them “cheap and fast.”

Maybe our obsession with variety and presentation is just another form of appreciation. We’re seeing beauty in the everyday, something previous generations didn’t have the luxury to do.

6) Homemade pickles and preserves

Now this one really makes me smile.

If you’ve ever visited an older relative and seen jars of pickles, jams, or chutneys lined up neatly on a kitchen shelf, you’ve seen an act of quiet genius. Canning was survival, a way to make sure nothing went to waste.

Today, homemade preserves have made a full comeback, but they come with a premium price tag. You’ll find “small-batch, hand-labeled strawberry jam” selling for $12 a jar. And we’ll pay it, because it feels personal, wholesome, and nostalgic.

When I started volunteering at my local market, I helped a couple sell their homemade marmalade. They laughed every week at how quickly it sold out. “We used to give this stuff away to neighbors,” they told me.

That comment stuck with me. What was once necessity has become a marker of mindfulness, of slowing down and savoring the process. We may be paying more, but maybe what we’re really buying is time and connection, both of which feel in short supply these days.

7) Compost and soil health

Here’s the one that always surprises people. Compost.

If you’ve ever priced organic soil at a garden center, you know it’s not cheap. Bags of “living compost” can easily hit $25. I once saw a “premium worm casting blend” going for almost $40.

Boomers would laugh. They didn’t buy compost; they made it. Kitchen scraps, coffee grounds, leaves, tossed into a pile and left to do what nature does best.

Now, composting is part of the sustainable living movement. There are entire workshops dedicated to teaching people how to “close the food loop.” It’s become an act of environmental responsibility, and that’s something worth celebrating.

I’ll admit, I buy compost sometimes too, and I do it happily. Because to me, it symbolizes progress. We’re rediscovering the value of nurturing the soil that feeds us. We’re reconnecting, even if it costs a bit more.

Final thoughts

The more I reflect on it, the more I see that this isn’t just about food. It’s about mindset. Boomers grew what they needed because they had to. Gen Z buys those same things because they want to, as a conscious choice to live closer to nature, to eat better, and to support small-scale farmers.

One generation did it out of necessity. The other, out of principle.

And maybe that’s the most beautiful part of all this.

Sure, it’s amusing that we’re paying premium prices for what used to be everyday backyard staples. But it’s also heartening. It means we’re valuing authenticity again. We’re realizing that food is more than fuel, it’s a relationship.

When you buy that $6 bunch of heirloom carrots or that jar of handmade jam, you’re not just purchasing a product. You’re participating in a story, one that’s older than any marketing label and more meaningful than any food trend.

So maybe the lesson here isn’t to scoff at how much we pay for simple things, but to recognize what that longing really is. We’re not just craving “organic” or “artisanal.” We’re craving connection, to the earth, to our food, and to the people who grow it.

And in that sense, maybe we’re not so different from the Boomers after all. They just happened to do it before hashtags and farmer’s market tote bags made it fashionable.