POINT REYES, a village of Marin County in the hills behind San Francisco, is the Prince of Wales’s sort of place.

Organic farming is all the rage, the county has become one of the first in the US to outlaw genetically modified crops, and the local paper, the Upbeat Times, prints only good news. Even the occasional straggle-bearded hippies look like the sort who talk to plants.

Minority cults abound on the sybaritic West Coast. While the rest of the Western world was doing its weekend supermarket shopping, several hundred residents lined the streets of Point Reyes to welcome the high priest of sustainable farming.

The Prince was in his element touring the only organic farmers’ market for miles around. The Duchess of Cornwall, looking more relaxed and animated than at any other time on her first official overseas tour, had a pretty good time of it too, enthusiastically sampling all the free food that was on offer. “I’m eating my way around here,” she declared between fat mouthfuls of a juicy heirloom apple before handing the well-nibbled core to a detective. “Luckily I’ve got a good appetite.”

She and the Prince moved on to the next stall to sample organic butternut squash soup. She held a finger of approval up to the Prince. “It’s really, really good; this will set us up for the day. Have you just made it? I should have brought my son (Tom, a cookery writer).”

At the Moonflower soap stall, the Duchess was offered a pot of Super Rose moisturiser, dabbing some on her nose and offering the pot to her husband to smell. “Wonderful, fantastic,” she enthused.

Susan Adams, the stallholder, told The Times: “I told her that these are the products that keep my 50-year old skin looking healthy. She snapped it right up.”

Moments later the Duchess had another encounter with age. Wendy Earl, like the Duchess, is 58, and said to her: “I just want to tell you, as a member of your generation, that you are very beautiful.” A fiftysomething sure knows what a contemporary wants to hear. Camilla went all coy, and the two discussed birthdays to discover that the Duchess was the older by three months.

Back at the cutting edge of organic farming, the couple tasted some green beans and pronounced them not stringy. “There’s a great art in that,” said the Prince. “Do many people come here?” The stallholder assured him that they did, from all over the Bay area. “So they don’t all go to Wal-Mart, then?” the Prince replied.

The Duchess declined oysters, because royals never eat shellfish while on duty, and she was prevented from eating a Japanese persimmon because it was too unripe and astringent.

But she had a good mouthful of Mount Tam organic cheese, a sturdy wedge of ginger honey wild smoked salmon and a decent swig of local wine.

Willie and Millie the teenage goats were waiting to meet the visitors while their owner frantically swept their copious droppings out of the royal path.

As the Duchess approached, Willie tried to munch her bouquet. “He likes my flowers,” she said to the Prince. Of course he did; they were organic.

Helge Hellberg, director of the Marin Organic association, told his guests that his aim was to make the whole county exclusively organic, and that the Prince’s visit was “confirmation that our work here is of critical importance far beyond our county line”.

The Prince positively glowed with satisfaction and the thought that he had been 20 years ahead of the game.

Mr Hellberg also explained that the local farmers supplied 70 schools with free organic lunch ingredients — the crooked carrots and misshapen potatoes that did not come up to “cosmetic” standards.

During their market tour, the royal couple met the village’s oldest resident. Dee Straker, 101, is a British national, and she clutched her 100th birthday card from the Queen.

The visitors were presented with a basket of organic produce before going walkabout among the enthusiastic crowd and being steered into the dark cavern of the Old Western Saloon with its torn bar stools, faded carpet, two juke boxes and a 50ft bar counter of the kind you used to see in John Ford westerns.

Without asking what they wanted, Ruby Shepley, the barmaid, poured the Prince a pint of local Boothammer ale and the Duchess half a pint of marginally less damaging India Pale Ale. Both sipped cautiously; strong beer fits into the oyster category of royal public consumption. “Cheers,” said the Prince, raising his glass to a small knot of regulars. “Cheers,” they replied, raising what was patently not their first Boothammer of the day.

The couple left town as organic heroes to visit a farm and nibble organic canapés over discussions about sustainable agriculture. But there are imperfections in Paradise, even when it’s in California.

Norman Solomon had been staging a perfectly peaceful protest against the Iraq war when he was bundled away by over-zealous security men and held in the back of a police car until the royal couple had left.

His offence had been to stand in the crowd holding up a banner reading: “War is not organic.”

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