What it is to Farm

It's pretty amazing to know that there are people who dedicate their lives to growing food and bringing that food to the public. On a daily basis, I make efforts to deepen my relationship with the food I consume, and to draw closer the people who provide it for me.

In that vein a couple months ago, I decided to jump in and participate in the work that goes in to growing food for a stand, one at our local farmers market. The experience was wonderful, as you might guess, and also quite humbling.

In my new home, luck has it that I only have to travel an hour in any direction to find great farmers. Our local market is just eight minutes away and rivals my trusty greenmarket back in NYC. On our first trip - the first stand I decided to stop at - I spotted Heron Hollow Farm. I was initially drawn to the gorgeous fruits and veggies, and then to Will, his wonderful wife Liz, and their sweet babe Ava, whose gaze is the intense stare of an old soul.

Each week their stand presents a colorful bounty in-line with the season. We have found (and hungrily taken home): neat piles of heirloom tomatoes; firm, bright, tiny turnips; every color pepper imaginable; bundles of wild greens; potatoes with great names (and even better flavor); firm, dark blueberries; perfectly ripe okra; foraged chanterelles; pastured eggs; and both goat and cow dairy products.

Throughout the years I have learned what great versions of this-or-that vegetable or fruit look like, feel like, and smell like, resulting in some damn good eating. When I honor eating with the season and locate food that is only lightly traveled, I am rewarded with peak ripeness provided by someone who nurtured that food him or herself.

Supermarkets actually rob us of this choice in selling us a wide variety of fruit and veg year-round. Groceries showcase uniformity rather than the uniqueness nature creates, dumbing down our access to the kinds of a carrot or a tomato, etc., we can even be exposed to. The stuff masquerading as real fruits and vegetables in supermarkets is almost completely machined - picked pre-ripened and necessarily flushed with gasses to achieve their rosy hues; shipped hundreds if not thousands of miles and losing flavor and nutrition as a result; and handled by people who themselves are kept on a threadbare existence.

When we buy at supermarkets we vote to sustain the infrastructure that bolsters Industrial Agriculture, including environmental costs like chemical waste in our waterways and burning fossil fuels into our atmosphere. Is that what we want for our future, or even now?

Heron Hollow and countless other small, local farms like it empower us by showing us that heirloom fruits and vegetables can be grown without industrial pesticides, fungicides, and fertilizers.  What started out as a college hobby, and what brought Will and Liz together, has evolved into a holistic approach that would make Joel Salatin proud: animals live happily in their natural ways, work is done largely by hand, and they use tried-and-true methods like compost and permaculture to grow healthy, amazing food. To nourish yourself and your family with the food a small farmer toils over day-after-day is about as elemental as it gets.

Each week, they do the bulk of the work pulling the (literal) fruits of their labor from the earth. For all my years in New York's aggressive hustle, I was set to task in keeping up with their schedule. Will quipped, "we're *reasonable* farmers" when we asked if they start before sun-up....So we toiled from 6 a.m. on, from one chore to the next, and it was a race against the sun bearing down on us all.

Thank you Will, Liz, Ava Rose, Denise, and Brian for sharing of yourselves. You are helping others to grow their appreciation of what it means to grow food.

 

"Ma mere" with Ava, as mama carries food scraps to the pigs

During the hottest hours, we retreated to the "swimming hole," a falls-fed flowing stream

I hope by now you have fallen in love with this pastoral view.

At sundown, the eleven-hour day only represented the beginning. After everyone gathered for a gratifying dinner of herbed goat's cheese, homemade bread, fresh sliced tomatoes, home-smoked bacon, and a veggie stew, the next tasks were to sort and wash the day's take, and complete the evening milking and feedings. This was work carried on into the latest hours of the night, followed by just a few hours of sleep before driving it all to market. And let's not forget: week in and out Will and Liz and farmers just like them oblige many a curious (if not demanding) market patron, with cheer, smiles, and patience, on just the vapors of sleep..... pretty awesome indeed.

We love being reminded of the care put into each tomato sitting on our counter at home. Each morsel is enriched by the relationships we have - and continue to - cultivate. Please support small, local, family farms. You'll eat worlds better and have the satisfaction of knowing that you are directly supporting members of your community. If you want to learn more, here, here, and here are good places to further your own understanding. Share this story with friends, and say "hi" to the folks providing us all with good food.  

Comfort and Good Food in the Aftermath of Hurricane Sandy

No one could have guessed just how greatly people would be affected by superstorm-frankenstorm-latest-climate-change-disaster-Hurricane Sandy. I am fortunate in my neck of the woods to have only sustained numerous fallen trees. We are so grateful to have our lives intact.

Photos courtesy of Jim Lafferty

On Tuesday as everyone began to pick up the pieces, we drank with a wonderful woman who had lost pretty much everything. Her home was swallowed in a fire that leveled much of her block. She swam across the street against the strong current to safety - with the help of a rope anchored to a house there - leaving behind a wonderful bean stew she'd been cooking on her stove, along with everything else in her home.

Yesterday, I spent the day baking cookies for relief victims. Home cooking makes such a difference in times of intensity. With my famous rosemary-sea salt-shortbread cookies and new double chocolate chunk cookies in tow, along with bags of supplies, prepared foods, clothing, and the like, my husband and I borrowed a friend's car and made drop-offs at two relief centers in Brooklyn. I wish I could have made 10 times as many, seeing faces light up at the offer of freshly-baked treats. It was one way in which I could begin to mend the frustration and loss that so many people now face.

(For recipes, scroll to bottom)

To weather the storm, we stocked our pantry well. On-hand was plenty of wine, prosecco, tequila, and the like, and I made toasted hazelnut & dried cranberry granola, easy guacamole, and an all-time-fave, roasted pumpkin fondue. The creamy-cheesy roasted savory-sweet goodness of the squash (and some bubbly to wash it down with) made a great difference through the howling of the storm.

There are many ways each of us can help. You can donate here to help a great woman who ran an animal rescue and lost her business, home, and a number of the animals she cared for. If you are local to NY/NJ, you can visit here to find out where to drop goods off, and to learn what people need most.

As I get caught up, I realize we are approaching the national elections in just a few, short days. There is a very important bill for review in California that I wanted to share with you. Passage of this bill, named Prop 37, will grant Californians the right to truth in food labeling. Big Food does not want this transparency. They want to continue operating under the radar, retaining the ambiguity of what foods are or aren't GMOs. Unlabeled, these foods have an easier chance of ending up in our pantries and onto our plates, but, with an educated public, we all can assert we have the right to know what we are eating and feeding our families. You can learn more about it here, here, here, here, and here. Just as we require that food be labeled if it has sugar or fat in it, we deserve to know if there are genetically modified ingredients as well. Please share this milestone opportunity with your friends everywhere, as what happens in California will undoubtedly pave the way for the nation. Vote YES on proposition 37. We deserve the truth.

And, lastly......

I'd made some wonderful mussel recipes when my friend Jon sent a batch not too long ago, and I am excited to share a new favorite recipe with you. These mussels have ruined me for any other, which I almost always find lacking in adequate plumpness and freshness. The mussels are from Taylor Shellfish Farms. Top-notch, every bit juicy and wonderful.

Freshly harvested, the mussels' beards are still intact

Celery & Pernod Mussels with Saffron Aioli

Celery & Pernod Mussels with Saffron Aioli

Serves 2-4

for aioli -
a good pinch of saffron threads, steeped in a tiny bit of warm water
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup good mayonnaise - I use grapeseed oil Veganaise, it tastes great!

for mussels -
good olive oil
4 celery ribs, sliced thinly on a mandoline
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 shallots, chopped
2 1/2 lbs mussels, scrubbed and de-bearded
1/2 cup parsley, chopped
1/2 cup veg or chicken stock
2/3 cup dry white wine
1/3 cup Pernod
sea salt and cracked black pepper

 Allow saffron to steep in warm water for at least five minutes. Add saffron mixture and garlic to mayonnaise, stirring thoroughly to combine. Season to taste with s & p, cover and refrigerate. This can be done a day in advance.

In a cast iron skillet, heat a generous glug of olive oil over a medium-high flame. Sautée shallots for a few minutes, stirring as they brown. Add garlic and sautée for another minute. Pour in Pernod, wine, and stock, and once liquid is bubbling, add in the mussels. Using tongs or a spoon, make sure they are in a single layer and cover with a lid, cooking until their shells have opened, about 5 minutes. Turn the flame off. Toss in the celery and parsley and season with salt and freshly cracked pepper, and serve in large shallow bowls, accompanied by crusty bread.

Double Chocolate Chunk Cookies - adapted from the Dahlia Bakery Cookbook

makes 24 4-inch cookies

3 pastured eggs at room temperature
3 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup almond meal
2 tsp good quality vanilla extract
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 cup plus 5 tbsp butter, softened
1 cup moist brown sugar, packed
1 1/4 cups cane sugar
1 cup milk chocolate chunks
1 3/4 cups dark chocolate chunks - I chop a larger bar, using Callebaut, into smaller chunk pieces for both

In a small bowl, combine eggs and vanilla extract, whisking to combine. Set aside. In a large bowl, combine flour, baking soda + powder, almond meal, and salt. Combine butter and sugars in a third bowl and, with an electric mixer, cream on medium-high speed until very light and fluffy. Use a rubber spatula to scrape the sides of the bowl, incorporating all the bits back together. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Add half the egg-vanilla mixture to the fluffy sugar-butter mix and beat to combine. Add the remainder, and beat again to combine. Add the dry mixture and beat on low until evenly distributed. Do not overmix. Add the chocolate chunks and stir until just combined. Portion large tablespoon-sized mounds (about 1/4 cup apiece) evenly apart on parchment paper-lined baking trays, keeping it to 6 mounds per tray (the cookies will spread as they bake). Bake for 8 minutes or until the edges are browned and keeping the centers lighter, for that perfect gooey-done consistency. If you are baking on multiple trays, rotate which is on top/bottom for even baking. Cool on a wire rack and serve while chocolate is still slightly melty, about 15 minutes.


Roasted Pumpkin Fondue

Serves 1-2, depending on the size of your squash

One smallish pumpkin, top cut off and seeds scraped out
Thinly sliced stale bread/well-toasted bread - I used a combination of french baguette, a seeded loaf, and rye - use whatever you have laying around
1/3 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup chicken stock
1 cup grated gruyère or other melty cheese
1/2 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
small pinch of cayenne
sea salt and cracked pepper
Good olive oil

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a bowl, whisk to combine stock, cream, and spices. Rub a bit of olive oil around the entire exterior of the squash as well as its top, and place on a parchment paper-lined roasting pan. Layer slices of bread, followed by cheese, until you have filled the cavity of the pumpkin. Pour in the stock-cream mixture. Replace the pumpkin top and bake for 45 minutes, or until the flesh of the squash is fork tender. Remove the top and allow to cool for a few minutes and eat directly from the squash, or serve into bowls, being sure to scrape the soft pumpkin flesh out to accompany the fondue. Yummm.


We are at a time of reflection - both with the passing of the year, days shortening and more time spent indoors, and also because this life-changing disaster has struck. Find what makes you feel most fulfilled, and do more of it. Be hungry for that search. Help your neighbors and your friends in the midst of it all. That is what being alive is about. xxxoo

Amazing Tsukiji Market, and a Guest Blog Appearance

Please tell me that you are still loving the photographs from Japan. Because, while it is becoming a cherished memory further in the depths of my mind, there are some incredible images yet to share. 

While traveling and since I've been back, I have been cooking up a treat for you all with a lovely woman halfway around the world. She is passionate about delicious foods and the photography that captures them so well. Sarka hails from Prague and currently lives in London, and has a penchant for a lot of the things that speak to my own heart (and after this long day, red wine is front and center!). Realizing that we have a lot in common, she invited me to guest blog, and today, one of my most incredible experiences while in Japan is shared here and at her blog, Cook your Dreams. We both hope you enjoy this shared adventure!

Which brings me to the phenomenon that is Tsukiji (pronounced "tskee-jee") Market in Tokyo. I'd taken a trip there before and marveled at the endless stalls of exotic and alien creatures. Many fresh from the kill, and still many others kept alive in filtered temporary quarters boxed in styrofoam, until their ends would come too. I can say in both experiences that walking through the wet, bustling aisles was a fascinating, gruesome, and humbling experience. Oh, and freezing. It escapes me to understand how these men and women survive countless hours in a day (for their lifetimes, mind you) in this wet, chilly stadium-market. One of the many enigmas of this incredible place....

Dried goods were part of an outdoor secondary market encircling the stadium

These were alive and moving...

Fresh clams

Left, the man occasionally placed his hands on that teapot to keep warm. Right, fresh tuna.

Carting away tuna heads

Left, 4-foot lengths of frozen tuna waiting to be carted. Right, discards.

After hours wandering around, I couldn't feel my fingers or toes. Small price to pay to witness the whirring kerosene-powered foot trucks; the careful and expert butchering of mollusks and tuna; the late-morning banter amongst colleagues, a sure sign that their work day was near its end and that the customary communal meal was next. 

J and I were starving, even through the empathy and pity we felt towards these incredible creatures. At one stall, a smiling older gentleman (pictured in the red jacket, well above) offered us advice on where to go for some of the best sushi we would ever have. And though numb and ravenous, we managed to find it and wait in a line that made satisfaction a further forty minute delay... but it was worth it.

Our sushi master preparing omakase - oyshi!!