Tales from the Expoland Poultry Sale

As many of you may know, Nick and I have decided to cut back on our commercial farming and concentrate on homesteading. We discovered what everyone else already knows: we are too old to run a vegetable packing and hauling operation. As esteemed a career longshoreman is, it is not what I envisioned when getting into farming.

We also had an “ah ha!” moment (actually, more of a “duh!” moment) when doing our books midseason (hey, at least we do them). Now, we always knew the farm lost money. We have, for every year we have farmed, been in that year before the year we make a profit. But what we didn’t realize is that, even keeping our current number of employees, we lose LESS money when we sell absolutely nothing than when we run our (on paper) wildly successful and oversubscribed DC CSA and restaurant sales business.

So, starting next season, we are growing for ourselves and anyone who is really nice to us. We’ll probably still sell some meat, mainly by pre-order. We’ll have more time to enjoy our weekend guests, and we’ll take vacations in the summer, so I can stop bitterly mumbling through August as I watch Facebook status update after status update: “Perfect weather on the Vineyard again!” “Another beautiful day at the beach!” “Clam bake time!” Mine: “Still at the farm. Still hot. Pigs smell.”

And with our change in gears, the blog will change too. Though I will keep posting recipes and ideas for the CSA vegetables, I want to start using more to write about life on the farm. For years, people who get the farm’s rambling emails about sale items or the CSA have told me I ought to write a book (and I DO know they probably meant: “you ought to write a book instead of bothering me with all this claptrap”). I agree (with both sentiments), but I also have found I freeze right up when sitting down, plop, to WRITE A BOOK. So I thought I would ease into it one blog post at a time (and yes, two hours to put my head under in a cold pool).

That’s a long introduction for today’s dissertation on the Expoland poultry auction, my morning’s activity, and where I am sitting right now, on the back of the trailer in one of the few poop free spots available, marveling at the fast internet connection here in the middle of a gravel parking lot in the middle of a field in the middle of an industrial parks in the middle of the mountains.

Every third Saturday, outside of Staunton VA, in Expoland, Augusta Feed sponsors a tailgate sale. $5 to get in for sellers, mostly poultry and rabbits though today I‘ve seen potbelly pigs, miniature goats, turkeys, ducks, and a ratty dog.

This is only the second time I’ve been to Expoland. The other time was the Augusta County fair a few years ago. I remember it being really hot, really dusty, and really full of things you don’t want to see or smell on a hot dusty day in a gravel parking lot: Fried Oreo stands, people standing in line at the fried Oreo stands wearing halter tops (and clearly not on the first fried Oreo of their lives), nervous sheep (or perhaps not nervous but suffering from irritable bowel syndrome sheep), fat, sweaty crying toddlers set in the dirt while their caretakers tried to toss rings over soda bottles to win the highly flammable large pink stuffed snake(with bead eyes perfect for the fat, sweaty, crying babies to stuff up their noses later) that I swear I saw for sale the day before sitting for sale on a piece of plastic outside the gas station.

“ExpoLAND” suggests an all encompassing expo experience, in the way that DisneyLAND is an overload, all senses Disney extravaganza. But this is no land. Maybe Expoarea. Or Expogravelparkinglot.

The tailgate sale doesn’t even get to use the Expoland building – a cement floored, corrugated steel barn with bathrooms, a fact I would have resented more had there been anywhere to buy coffee at the sale. But live poultry was pretty much it, which surprised me. When we were all scared of bird flu, before the year of the swine refocused our paranoia, I remember all sorts of warnings about “open air poultry markets.” I also remember thinking at the time, since we don’t live in Vietnam, what are the chances I’ll run into someone who has been to an open air poultry market. Turns out, I am now someone who goes to open air poultry markets. I’ll put “flu vaccine” on this year’s to do list.

We brought a bunch of our older layers to sell, thinning the flock in anticipation of our downsizing. They sold in the first 30 minutes, with Nick inexplicitly haggling the price of the first lot down to the great confusion of the buyers, a group of Arab men, only one of whom spoke English, and none of whom understood why Nick, in a bad Arab accent (his way of helping bridge the language gap), kept insisting on a price lower than the sign said. “Bird flu,” I thought of adding to help make Nick’s case, but didn’t because my fake Arab accent is even worse than his.

It smells like fermenting corn here. Corn and chicken poop.

Heard often as the crowd walks back and forth: “Them’s good eatin’.”

Heard only once: “I don’t eat nuthin’ that comes in my house. Do you eat your family??”

Constantly in the background: Crowing, all sorts, some pathetic, some triumphant. The banty roosters are the triumphant ones, I believe, because they are too small to eat. I do not understand the sheer number of banties on sale here today. We have a few, but they were given to us. They are amusing running around the barn, but I cannot see paying for one, even less moving the volume of banties that seem to be moving today. I think they are the beanie babies of the poultry world.

Seen: Two big men, in their thirties, in baseball caps and sleeveless t-shirts, coffee in one hand, chicken leg (attached to the rest of the chickens, nice Buff Orringtons) in the other. Years ago, I would have thought, “What’s with the chickens?” Today, I thought, “where’d they get the coffee?”

The king of the poultry tailgate sales: He is about 6’ 4”, tanned, with flowing silver hair, and a ravaged face in the manner of Keith Richards. He wears low, loose jeans that probably were new in Haight Ashbury circa ’68 and a vest, no shirt. He is legendary in the world of poultry arbitrage. He churns chickens like butter, picking up boxes at this sale, selling them at a profit at the next sale down the road. He makes his living this way, tailgate sales only, and he is alive so I guess it is working for him.

Two of the largest roosters I’ve ever seen, in a cage, the sole item for sale in the back of a sad looking man’s pick-up. “Just don’t have the heart to kill ‘em anymore,” he said as I admired the birds.

By 10 AM, we had sold all the bird we brought, including the Barred Rock that escaped and was chased around the parking lot by a Mexican in a red shiny shirt, two women with matching John Deere t-shirts, and a chubby preteen in a glittery tube top and high heeled cowboy boots. We loaded up our tables and empty cages in order to get back to the farm quickly so we could work outside in the hottest part of the day. As we drove off, I heard the king of the tailgate sales making one last deal for a cage full of banty roosters. All is as it should be in the Land of Expos.

Pesto

Summer means basil and basil means pesto (though you can use all sorts of non-basily things to make pesto. In fact, the only thing you REALLY need in pesto, in my opinion is garlic and olive oil. And salt. You always need salt).

I make pesto in the Cuisinart, and I can’t imagine doing it any other way (blender, maybe – mortar and pestle, you’ve got to be kidding). You start with garlic. I like pesto really garlicy, so I put in maybe 8-10 peeled cloves. Then I add some more because I am already getting the Cuisinart dirty, so why not use it to chop garlic for whatever else you are making for dinner – or use it in a batch of salad dressing.

After the garlic is done, throw in a small handful of nuts. Pine nuts are traditional, but they are so expensive, and if they are just one day older than they should be they make your mouth taste bitter for a month (I am not exaggerating, this happened to me, and apologies to the Pine Nut Promotion board). I use whatever nut is on sale – walnuts usually -- and sometimes don’t use nuts at all, like when I make spring garlic pesto.

Chop the nuts with the garlic. Then jam a passel of basil leaves in the Cuisinart – fill it up – and chop that. Salt. Then, with the motor running, pour in a stream of olive oil (I should say “good quality olive oil” because recipes always say that, as if, without that, you would just go out and buy motor-grade olive oil. And why don’t we get that on every ingredient? I assume “good quality” butter milk is better than the regular sort – same with “good quality” flour or nuts or chocolate, but with olive oil, we have to be reminded to buy the decent stuff).

When the mixture gets to be the consistency of melted ice cream (with basil sprinkles), taste and salt more if needed. If you are freezing the pesto, do it now before you add parmesan cheese. You can also use it pre-cheese as an oil in which to sauté vegetables, like some of that squash you have all over the place. If you are eating it right away, add parmesan cheese (good quality, please), enough to get the pesto to the consistency of onion dip.

Now use it for everything – combined with tomato sauce on homemade pizza, spread on old bread or pita and toasted for garlic bread, tossed with mayonnaise and used as a dressing for pasta salad with veggies or for (good quality Green Fence Farm) chicken salad, on a cracker or slice of bread with a slice of tomato and brie or blue cheese.

And, as I alluded to before, you can substitute any number of things for basil (or combine with basil) in this recipe – spring garlic (in which case, obviously, cut out the garlic cloves), green onions (in which case, cut down the garlic cloves), parsley, red pepper, olives.

Caveat Emptor

Check out this succinct explanation of what we were all afraid was true. All of the meats and eggs from Green Fence Farm are pastured. Though, as the article explains, all are not wholly grass fed – chickens and pigs can’t get enough protein and energy from a diet of only grass. Our pigs, for example, have a diet of grass, natural feed, and slop from our and the Staunton Grocery kitchen; the latter means, of course, they eat better than me. And the chickens get day old bread from Newtown Bakery – or they get the day old bread that Nick and I don’t pull out of the bag and eat ourselves.

Squash

We finally got some rain, and so, as the Capitol Hill CSA members are well aware, we are awash in squash. Like basil and tomatoes, they love the hot weather as long as they get a drink once in a while (not unlike me, though the drinks need to come more frequently).

The recipe and picture below were in the Washington Post last Wednesday. My mother made the recipe for a family and friends dinner this weekend. But of course, coming from a long line of people who do not take instruction well, she made several modifications – the squash was blanched, not grilled. The cheese was not pepper jack, because several members of the eating team don’t like it – I think she used a regular jack, or maybe a mix of a mild cheddar and jack. No pimentos, because Nick refuses to eat any cooked peppers. No cilantro because she had already veered away from the Mexican version. More sour cream than the recipe called for because it was in her fridge and needed to get used up. Some mayonnaise too because this is a SOUTHERN summer recipe, and all southern summer recipes, including cake, include mayonnaise.

Summary:

Every Southern Junior League cookbook includes a version of squash casserole, which always makes an appearance in the summer as soon as squash becomes abundant. Pepper Jack cheese and cilantro give this one a Southwestern edge.

MAKE AHEAD: The casserole can be assembled and refrigerated a day in advance. Bring it to room temperature before baking it on the grill.


4 to 6 servings

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 pounds medium yellow squash and zucchini, trimmed and cut lengthwise into 1/2-inch planks
• Salt
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 cup creme fraiche or sour cream
• 4 scallions, white and light-green parts, chopped (1/3 cup)
• 3/4 cup grated pepper Jack cheese
• 2 tablespoons pimentos, drained
• Leaves and tender stems from 8 sprigs cilantro, chopped (2 tablespoons)
• 1/3 cup panko (Japanese-style) bread crumbs
• 1 tablespoon salted butter, cut into small cubes
• 1/4 teaspoon Spanish smoked paprika
Directions:


Prepare the grill for direct heat: If using a gas grill, preheat to medium-high (450 degrees). If using a charcoal grill, light the briquettes in a chimney starter and let them burn until the flames subside and a light layer of ash covers the briquettes (about 20 to 25 minutes). Dump the briquettes in a mound (or, preferably, into 2 half-moon-shaped briquette baskets) in the center of the grill. For a medium-hot fire, you should be able to hold your hand about 6 inches above the coals for 6 to 8 seconds. Spray the grill rack with nonstick cooking oil spray, then place it on the grill.

Lightly spray the squash slices on both sides with olive oil cooking spray. Season generously with salt and pepper. Cook the squash for about 6 minutes, turning frequently, until the slices are well browned on both sides and soft but still slightly firm. Transfer to a bowl and cool completely. The yield should be about 3 cups.

Blot the cooled squash slices on paper towels, then cut them it into 1/2-inch chunks, placing them in a large bowl. Add the creme fraiche or sour cream, scallions, cheese, pimento and cilantro; mix well and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Lightly spray a 2-quart casserole with nonstick cooking oil spray, then spread the squash mixture in the dish. Scatter the bread crumbs and butter cubes evenly over the top, then sprinkle with smoked paprika.

Meanwhile, prepare the grill for indirect grilling: If using charcoal, light the charcoal in a chimney starter and let the briquettes burn until the flames subside and a light layer of ash covers the briquettes (about 20 to 25 minutes). Open the grill's bottom vents. Dump the lighted coals into 2 mounds (or, preferably, into 2 half-moon-shaped briquette baskets) on opposite sides of the grill. (If using gas, with a two-burner grill, set one burner to medium-low and leave the other unlit; with three or more burners, set the outside or front and rear burners to medium-low and leave the center burners unlit.)

Place the casserole on the area of the grill that is not directly above the briquettes or a lit burner. Cover the grill, vents open, and cook for 30 to 40 minutes, until the casserole is lightly browned and bubbling. (The internal temperature of the grill should hover around 350 degrees.) Serve hot.

Quail Eschabeche

Below is my favorite quail recipe ever – from a 2008 Gourmet (sob, I miss it) article on global cooking in Paris. Of course, you could just wrap the little suckers in bacon and roast or grill (what would a recipe from me be without some bacon component), but, surprisingly, I like this better.
A globe's worth of influences go into this tender quail, but the result is a very subtle dish with a classic French balance.

Active Time: 25 min
Total Time: 2 1/2 hr (includes cooling)

4 whole quail (1 1/2 pounds)
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil plus additional for drizzling
2 fennel bulbs (1 pound total), stalks discarded and bulbs chopped
3 medium shallots, finely chopped (1/2 cup)
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
1 lemongrass stalk, 1 or 2 outer layers discarded and lower 4 inches of stalk minced
1/2 cup raisins
1 (2-inch) cinnamon stick (preferably Mexican/Ceylon canela)
1 cup dry white wine

Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle.

Pat quail dry and season all over with 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper (total). Heat oil in an ovenproof 12-inch heavy skillet over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Sear quail, breast side down, until golden, 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer to a plate.
Add fennel, shallots, garlic, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper to skillet and sauté until fennel is pale golden, 5 to 7 minutes. Stir in lemongrass, raisins, cinnamon stick, and wine. Bring to a boil, then cover pot and braise in oven 30 minutes. Nestle quail, breast side up, in vegetables, then cover and braise until thighs pull easily from joints, about 20 minutes. Cool completely, uncovered. Serve at room temperature, drizzled with olive oil.

Cooks' note:
Quail can be made 1 day ahead and chilled.

Finally, the beet recipes!

As part of our continuing “day late and a dollar short” series, we finally get around to telling you what to do with those beets we keep giving you (but probably will stop doing so until the Fall – we just replanted and hope to see the second crop by September, or so).

First, some basic beet information – they are a storage crop, so you can keep them for a while, up to a month, in the refrigerator. Just TWIST off the tops (which can be eaten like any green – prepare as you would spinach or kale), and put the beets, skin, tap root, and an inch or so of green stem, into a plastic bag in your refrigerator.

The Basic cooking of beets is simple. Wash (but do not peel) them and drop them into a pot of boiling water; boil until they are potato consistency – that will take about 35 minutes for large beets, 30 for medium, and 20 for small. Just poke them with a fork to check if they are done. Drain and let cool off. The skins will slip off when they are cool. Take off the top stem and the tap root, and do what you will with them.

Or you can bake them, which I prefer, though I can’t say why. Prepare as above, and let them stay damp after washing. Cover a pan with tin foil (why, you ask? – just do it, and you’ll thank me. There is a lot of sugar in beets that cooks off and caramelizes…). Put the beets in the pan and cover it tightly with tin foil. Cook in a 400 degree oven for about 45 minutes. Then treat as above (cool, peel, process).

From this point, you can make my favorite, very easy dish – beet salad. Just slice or chop your beets (I like to slice the chiogga’s (the red beets we had out at the CSA) because they have a neat bulls eye design inside. Make your favorite balsamic dressing (or use mine: 1 part walnut oil, one part balsamic vinegar, one part soy sauce). Sprinkle the dressing lightly over the beets, add blue cheese crumbles, and toasted walnuts.

I love serving this on a tray next to a salad of cold green beans with bacon crumbles (had to work bacon in here somewhere) and chopped egg, and a lightly dressed (or slathered in pesto mayonnaise – my choice) potato salad.
If you boil 3 medium beets, also as above, you can make the famous Harvard beets (I believe you need to use RED beets for this recipe to stay true to the crimson tradition): Reserve ½ cup of your boiling liquid when the beets are done. In a medium saucepan, combine two tablespoons of sugar, 1 tablespoon of cornstarch, and ¼ of a teaspoon salt. Stir in the reserved beet cooking liquid, ¼ cup of vinegar, and 2 tablespoons of butter. Heat and stir until mixture thickens. Peel and slice your beets then add them to the mixture and heat through.

From CSA member Karla Ramsey, a beet recipe for those of you who are deciding you really don’t like beets (this is really pretty too):

Beet Hummus

3 medium beets, cleaned, roasted, peeled then cut into chunks (stick whole beets in oven at 375* then roast until a knife inserts easily)
2 Tbsp tahini (sesame seed paste)
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 clove garlic, chopped
1/4 cup olive oil
salt to taste

Process all ingredients in a food processor. Blend until smooth. Tasted and adjust seasoning. Serve with a hefty drizzle of olive oil.

Finally! The turnip recipes….

Isn’t it lucky that turnips save? And that we will see them again in the autumn, so you will get a chance to use these recipes soon.

I’ll start out with a recipe I put in the blog last year, but since no one read it then, I can repeat it here (and since no one is reading the blog NOW, I can both admit to repeating it and repeat it again next year). This is simple: Peel your turnip and dice it. Dice some bacon and fry it up until starts to render its fat. Toss the turnip dice in the fat and fry until crispy and brown. If you want, add chopped onions (green or otherwise) about half way through the browning of the turnips. If you have tender greens, turnip or otherwise, toss them in about three-quarters of the way through the dicing. Salt and eat with a hearty meat (or pungent vegetable, if you are a vegetarian).

And from one CSA member (Kate’s comment – this will make a great fall dish as well, and luckily, you’ll have turnips in the fall): here's a great turnip recipe from Farm Journal's Country Cookbook of 1959! It is delicious!

TURNIP STEW: The Czechoslovakian way....

3 T butter
3 C diced cooked turnips
1/2 C whole kernel corn
1 medium onion, chopped
1 medium apple, sliced
nutmeg
sour cream
horse-radish

+Melt butter, add turnips, corn, onion, apple and seasonings. Simmer until apple and onion are soft...about 15 minutes.
+Add sour cream, heat through; add horse-radish and service.

And another member sent in a whole pile of recipes, including some for beets, which might be a hint for next week’s delivery:

Turnip and Beet Recipes
(nabbed from Live Earth CSA’s website)

Honey-Peppered Turnips
from Greene on Greens
Serves 4 to 6

1 tbsp. unsalted butter
2 tbsp. honey
1 lb. turnips, peeled, cut into 1/4" cubes
1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
Salt
Chopped fresh parsley

Melt the butter with the honey in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Stir in the turnips and pepper. Cook, covered, until tender, about 12 minutes. Add salt to taste and sprinkle with parsley.


Miscellaneous turnip preparation ideas
<> Many cookbooks suggest they are good mashed like potatoes, or with potatoes. So pull out your favorite mashed potatoes recipe and make it with half turnips, half potatoes.

<> Try them raw! Slice or sliver them in salads or vegetable platters. Serve with a favorite dip.

<> Add turnips to stir-fries for a nice crunch and a perky flavor.

<> Bake 'em! Scrub and remove tops/tails from baby turnips and put in a baking pan with chunks of carrots, onions and potatoes, drizzle with olive oil, season with salt and pepper, cover with foil and bake at 350 degrees Funtil tender, about 45 minutes.

<> [from "The New Joy of Cooking"] Turnip greens are especially good cooked with other greens, like collards, in water flavored with salt pork or a ham bone. They are traditionally seasoned with sprinklings of oil, vinegar, hot sauce or ground red pepper, and sugar.


Simple Skillet Turnips and Apples
from the Rolling Prairie Cookbook
serves 4

1 tbsp. canola oil
1/2 C chopped onion
1 medium apple, copped (approx. 3/4C)
3 C chopped turnips (1/2" cubes)
1/2 C fresh apple cider or juice
1 small cinnamon stick
1/4 tsp. salt

Heat oil in a large skillet over med. heat. Add onion and sauté for 3 to 5 minutes. Add apple and sauté 2 more minutes. Add turnips and rest of ingredients. Cover and reduce heat to medium-low. Stir occasionally, and add more liquid if necessary to prevent sticking. Simmer until turnips are tender, approx. 20 minutes. Remove cinnamon stick before serving.



Roasted Root Vegetables scented with Apple and Mustard
from Your Organic Kitchen (modified slightly)
Serves 8 (but you could halve it to serve 4)

3 C apple cider or juice
1 C fruity white wine (like Gewürztraminer)
2 tbsp. smooth Dijon mustard
3 tbsp. butter
4 -5 lbs. root vegetables, cut into bite-sized pieces, both sweet (like carrots and chiogga beets) and savory (like turnips and potatoes)
Salt and freshly ground pepper

In a saucepan, reduce the cider/juice, wine, and mustard over high heat to 1 1/2 C. Whisk in the butter and pour over the vegetables, tossing to coat. Season with salt and pepper and place in a single layer in a large roasting pan in a preheated 375 degree oven. Roast for 1 hour or so, or until the vegetables are lightly browned and tender. Stir 3 or 4 times while roasting to promote even browning.

Grated Turnip (or Rutabaga) and Apple Salad
from Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant
serves 4 to 6

1 C peeled and grated raw turnips or rutabaga
1 C peeled and grated tart apples
½ C chopped fresh parsley
juice of one large lemon
1 tbsp. vegetable oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Combine everything, toss, cover, and chill.

Chilled Beet and Buttermilk Soup
serves 4 to 6 (can be increased/decreased proportionally without problem)
4 C chopped cooked beets*
1 C unsweetened apple juice [Billy Bob’s!]
2 C buttermilk
1 tbsp. minced fresh dill
¼ C minced scallions or chives
salt to taste
finely chopped cucumber (for garnish)
*about 4-5 medium beets, more if smaller.
In a blender or food processor, combine the beets, apple juice, and buttermilk and purée until smooth. Transfer to a bowl or storage container and stir in the dill and scallions or chives. Refrigerate at least 2 hours. Add salt to taste and serve topped with finely chopped cucumber.

Beet and Gorgonzola Potato Salad
6 to 8 medium thin-skinned potatoes (such as Yukon Gold or Yellow Finn)
4 medium to large beets
1/3 lb. gorgonzola or feta cheese
1 small red onion, fine dice

Dressing:
1/4 C olive oil
1/4 C red wine vinegar
1-2 tbsp. horseradish
Dried thyme to taste
Salt and pepper to taste

Roast potatoes and beets in oven at 425 degrees for 50-60 minutes (until soft when pierced). Let cool. Dice to bite size and mix with diced onion and cheese. Some people like to skin the beets (which you should only do after the roasting), which is quite messy, but has a nicer presentation. Prepare dressing, and toss. Can be served immediately, but flavors blend better if refrigerated overnight.

What to do with all that bok choy?

This week, Green Fence Farm made its first delivery, on Capitol Hill, and both the full and half share members got what had to be the biggest bok choy ever grown. I have to admit, in handing these out, I broke one the rules my daughter, Viv, wrote when she was six years old (in a treatise called “Rules for the City”): “Never eat anything bigger than your head (sensible advice, almost as good as the rule that said “don’t spread tacks around where people are going to drive”).” But, unless our poor CSA members want to try to keep the heads alive and enter them in county fairs come August, eat it we must. To that end, here are some ideas on what to do with it. The first is from a NW CSA member, and it is what I’ll be cooking tonight:

I love bok choy. So far I've had no luck growing it so I'm excited to hear
we'll be getting some. Here is one of my favorite recipes for it. It's
straight from "A Taste of China" by Ken Hom.

1 lb bok choy
1 T. peanut oil
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1/2 t. salt
1 T. water

- Prep bok choy by quartering (if big) or halving (if small) and removing core.
Cut leaves from stem.

- Heat oil over high, add garlic, stir fry for about 30 sec.

- Add salt and bok choy stem, stir fry about 1 min.

- Add bok choy leaves, stir fry for till all is cooked. If the mix gets dry,
add water.

This next recipe is what I WAS going to cook tonight, but it is too hot, plus I have no milk or cheese in the house:

Bok Choy Gratin Gourmet | February 2003

The most commonly found Chinese vegetable is also one of the oldest — bok choy has been cultivated in China since the fifth century a.d. You can find many kinds of bok choy at Asian markets, all differing in shape and size; this recipe works well with any mature variety.

Active time: 40 min Start to finish: 1 hr

Yield: Makes 6 side-dish servings

Active Time: 40 min

Total Time: 1 hr

1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons fine dry bread crumbs
2 1/2 lb bok choy (not baby), tough stem ends trimmed
1 shallot, finely chopped
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cups whole milk
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 oz Gruyère, coarsely grated (1/2 cup)
1/2 oz finely grated parmesan (1/4 cup)

Preheat oven to 425°F. Lightly butter a 2-quart gratin dish and dust with 2 tablespoons bread crumbs.

Cut bok choy stems and center ribs into 1/2-inch pieces and coarsely chop leaves. Cook stems and ribs in a large pot of boiling salted water until just tender, about 5 minutes, then add leaves and cook 30 seconds. Drain in a colander and rinse under cold water until cool enough to handle. Squeeze out excess water by handfuls.

Cook shallot in 1 tablespoon butter in a 12-inch heavy skillet over moderate heat, stirring, until softened, about 2 minutes. Add bok choy and cook, stirring, until greens are coated with butter and shallot, 1 to 2 minutes. Spread bok choy in baking dish.

Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a 2-quart heavy saucepan over moderately low heat, then add flour and cook roux, stirring constantly, 2 minutes. Add milk in a slow stream, whisking constantly, and bring to a boil, whisking. Reduce heat and simmer, stirring, 5 minutes. Add nutmeg, salt, and pepper, then stir in Gruyère and 2 tablespoons parmesan and pour evenly over bok choy.
Toss remaining 1/4 cup bread crumbs with remaining 2 tablespoons parmesan in a small bowl and blend in remaining 2 tablespoons butter with your fingertips until mixture resembles coarse meal. Season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle mixture evenly over gratin and bake in upper third of oven until bubbly and golden brown, about 20 minutes.

Kate again – there were several comments on this recipe, but this one summed them all up:

I've made this recipe a few more times w/ minor changes and it's now become one of my favorites. I mix half of the mornay sauce in with the greens and spread the remainder on top. This melds veggies and sauce together and makes the whole thing taste delightfully cheesy. I also double the breadcrumb topping, for extra crispy contrast. I've used swiss chard, kale, chinese mustard and bok choy. I also like to add thinly sliced potatoes and/or turnips into the boiling water before adding the stems from the greens. The potato/greens combo is fantastic and will make anyone love leafy greens. Doing the shallot step in the pan you used for the greens will eliminate one extra pan. Still, this makes a lot of dishes.

And finally, a recipe I would have made (since it is so hot, I don’t even want to stir fry), but we already have salad greens out our ears, and my traditionalist family would balk at more than one salad on the table:

ORIENTAL BOK CHOY SALAD
1/2 c. butter
2 tbsp. white sugar
1 bottle of sesame seeds (1 oz.)
2 pkgs. Ramen noodles (broken up), do not use flavor packet
1 sm. pkg. slivered almonds
2 lbs. bok choy lettuce (chopped coarsely)
5 to 6 green onions, tops and all chopped
In large skillet melt butter over medium heat. Add sesame seed, noodles, almonds and sugar. Stir all the time until lightly browned. Set aside to cool to room temperature. Toss bok choy and onions together, mix and chill until ready to serve. Just before serving, break up the crunchy mixture, add to bok choy, pour dressing over, mix and serve.

DRESSING:
3/4 c. vegetable oil
1/4 c. red wine vinegar
1/2 c. white sugar
2 tbsp. soy sauce
Mix well and chill until ready to use.

Rhubarb Crisp

Thank to Capitol Hill CSA member Jean Flemma for pointing this out.

So easy – and I have to agree with Mark Bittman: better rhubarb alone than with strawberries. CSA members, take note. You should have enough rhubarb for this, and for the rhubarb bread I am making later this week (recipe to come)…

The only thing I disagree with is the whole peeling off the fibrous outer strings “as you would with celery.” I’ve never peeled celery OR rhubarb.

Rhubarb Crisp That Stands Up to Pie
By MARK BITTMAN
WHEN you think of rhubarb you probably think of strawberry-rhubarb pie, a quintessential spring dessert, especially if it’s made by someone who makes good pies. I usually manage around one pie crust annually, so I need alternatives. Thus, when the spring’s first rhubarb showed up, I adjusted the execution and produced a crisp.
Perhaps equally intriguing is that I ditched the strawberries. Not that I don’t like them, or the combination, but good rhubarb arrives much earlier than good strawberries do (they don’t really show up in the Northeast until June). Besides, with each passing year I appreciate rhubarb solo more.
If rhubarb is young and fresh, you can trim it in seconds. If it has fibrous outer strings, peel them off as you would those of celery. Just slide a paring knife under the topmost layer, grab the outer skin of the stalk with your thumb, and pull. This might take a minute.
Toss the rhubarb with orange or lemon juice and zest, and only a little sugar. I use a quarter cup or so — it seems to be enough — though you won’t go awry by adding another couple of tablespoons. (You can also substitute strawberries for some of the rhubarb if you want the classic combination.)
Blend the ingredients for the crisp topping in a food processor, but be sure to add the oats and pecans last so that you retain some crispness in your crisp. Crumble the topping over the rhubarb mixture, and bake — it is nearly effortless and as good or better than a pie.

Rhubarb CrispTime: About 1 hour, largely unattended



6 tablespoons cold butter, cut into small pieces, plus more for greasing pan

2 1/2 to 3 pounds rhubarb, trimmed, tough strings removed, and cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces (about 5 to 6 cups)

1/4 cup white sugar

1 tablespoon orange or lemon juice

1 teaspoon orange or lemon zest

3/4 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, or to taste

Pinch salt

1/2 cup rolled oats

1/2 cup pecans.



1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Grease an 8- or 9-inch square baking or gratin dish with a little butter. Toss rhubarb with white sugar, orange or lemon juice and zest, and spread in baking dish.

2. Put the 6 tablespoons butter in a food processor along with brown sugar, flour, cinnamon and salt, and pulse for about 20 or 30 seconds, until it looks like small peas and just begins to clump together. Add oats and pecans and pulse just a few times to combine.

3. Crumble the topping over rhubarb and bake until golden and beginning to brown, 45 to 50 minutes.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings.

Happy Belated Mother's Day

I actually wrote this post last week, but the original picture I had of Mary the lamb was on one of my many emergency back-up cameras, the one with the battery that works, but with the picture storage thing that doesn't seem to fit into my computer or any of the other 319 cords I have for transfering pictures from one place to another. So this week, I took another picture on the right camera, then took it again after recharging the batteries, and only today got it uploaded. In any case, this is what I wrote last week, when it was timely, and to go with a completely different picture:

Our first (and thus far, only) lamb arrived last week, but I thought I would save her (yes, a she) for today. She is a week and a half early, but not premature, her birth coming around 143 days after our stud jumped the fence (143 days being the gestation period of the Icelandic sheep, give or take a couple of minutes).

Her mom is from our Bambi breeding family, a long line of horned, hardy sluts – a compliment in the sheep world. She is the first non-white sheep we’ve had from this line (the white gene is super dominant, and the moorit (that’s sheep for brown) is recessive. The mother’s father was a moorit, and the father this year was a moorit, so there was a 50-50 chance we’d get one).

The rest of the sheep are ready to pop any minute. Get ready for more pictures!

DC Kids to Get Good Food in School

I am so proud of the District!

This article makes me happy – I’ve stopped drinking soda, but I might just go out and buy a crate full just to support this program.

If you are a District resident, please contact your councilmember and let them know how much you appreciate their support for this (I think it is important to contact politicians when they do something you like, not just when your angry – the chai latte antidote to the Tea Party). You can find their email and phone numbers here; the vote is supposedly tomorrow. Post if you call!

The picture, by the way, is Alice Waters – THAT Alice Waters – who has endorsed the DC program.

Duck, Duck, Egg

If they weren’t loud, stupid, smelly, and dirty, ducks would be the perfect farm animal. They don’t mind the cold, we didn’t lose a one during the snows this winter, and the ducks don’t even have to have a house. The chickens, with their insulated gypsy wagons, still managed to die in astounding numbers, but the ducks weren’t put off their daily routine of quacking wildly at every single thing that came near their pen and pooping.

And now that it’s Spring, we are getting 21 duck eggs a day (with only 20 female ducks – someone is overachieving). There is a small, but fiercely loyal, group of regular duck egg customers. These are either folks who are allergic to chicken eggs (and most are NOT allergic to duck eggs) or fanatics like Nick who think chicken eggs are pale imitations of the bigger, yolkier, robuster duck egg. The latter treat the arrival of duck eggs like white truffles straight off the plane from Italy. The other group of customers is the curious and culinary adventurous. And it was from one of these, a new CSA member, I got a good duck egg tip.

I had passed on to him my baking rule for duck eggs – 1 duck egg = 1.5 chicken eggs. He tested that on soft boiling, cooking a chicken egg for 4 minutes and a duck egg for 6. Perfect in both cases!

OK, I know this is not really a recipe, but as we get into the season of fresh everything, I realize that recipes are oh so not important. Really, you want to cook that fabulous 1 day out of the ground asparagus INTO something – to what? Mask its flavor with cheese (normally something I applaud, by the way)? Why cook it at all? Eat it raw and on the way home from buying it. Come to the farm and eat it out of the ground. No, this is the time of year when you don’t need a cooking channel. You need a “eat everything as fresh and unprocessed as possible channel.

Green Farm at WIS in NW SUNDAY, 11-3

That’s right, Kate and Nick will be hawking eggs, greens (including ASPARAGUS), gourd bowls, sought-after Green Fence Farm T-shirts, guinea fowl, ground beef, and other assorted goodies 11 AM – 3 PM, Sunday, April 18 at the WIS bazaar. If you missed out on the greens at our last DC drop, come on over this time -- we should have more to sell.

Also, bad news for our CSA and Buying Club friends, contrary to what I told you earlier, this is our LAST DC delivery until the season starts on May 26 on Capitol Hill, so you may want to lay some eggs in now. We had planned to come back 2 more times before that, but massive confusion (our normal state) over when it was our oldest daughter was graduating and a date for our pigs to go to the butcher messed everything up. So come to WIS on Sunday and don't complain later that I didn't warn you.

WIS is located in NW DC very close to our NW pick-up point (see directions below). The bazaar is an annual fund raising event that includes an incredible international lunch buffet (the reason you won’t see much of Nick at our stand), kid’s games, REAL high tea, arts and crafts booths, and, of course, US.

We should have a good load of vegetables at this showing – for those of you who came to the drop off last week only to find the first three people took all the greens. And eggs, lots of eggs.

We’re not taking pre-orders this time, but mention you are a CSA or Buying Club member and get 10% off.

Come for the discount, come for the cool kid games, come for the great food, or just come to keep us company! Hope to see you there.

Directions to WIS Bazaar at the Tregaron Campus From Washington DC (downtown): From Connecticut Avenue, Macomb Street is located between the National Zoo and the Uptown Theatre. Take Connecticut north and turn left on Macomb Street two blocks past the Zoo. Entrance gates for the school are on your left marked by signs.

Metro: Cleveland Park Metro is about four blocks from the school – South on Connecticut, right on Macomb, the school driveway will be on your left.

Parking: Available on Macomb before you enter the school, along the driveway of the school, in a lot to your right as you go down the Hill leaving the school, and on Klingle after you exit the school.

Green Fence Farm Offering On Farm Pastured Poultry Seminars this Summer

Sign up now for Green Fence Farm’s pastured poultry seminars this summer. All day, on-farm experience for the hobby farmer or small farm wanting to get into the lucrative pasture raised egg and meat business. Covers everything from the economics of feed, housing, equipment, and sales to butchering to specialty fowl and rabbits. Seminars run from 10 AM – 4 PM several Saturdays and Sundays through the summer. Read more in the document I really hope I attached here.

And you urbanites, you don’t have to want to raise chickens to enjoy this day on the farm. You’ll get an up close (or as up close as you want – you don’t have to attend the butchering segment) look at how we raise our meat and eggs. And you get lunch!

Asparagus and other signs of Spring...

As a lucky few of our Buying Club members know, the first asparagus is in – a full two weeks before we saw any last year. On the right, a picture of the way asparagus grows – right out of the ground like some greens-fairy has come along and planted them there. We hope to have lots of asparagus to sell at the WIS market, April 18.

Another sign of Spring is the first Mennonite market. I was so happy to be back in the (now expanded) barn this last Tuesday, filled with the most amazing array of bedding plants. We bought enough started broccoli to feed Napoleon’s army (see our car) thoughI did not get any of the hanging baskets I came for (for me!) – by the time they got down to a price I liked -- Nick had filled the car with the aforementioned broccoli plants. He also got some rhubarb plants from 70 year old cuttings.

And though I don’t really like to take pictures at the auction – these may be the last unspoiled plain folk in the US -- I fell in love with the girls in these pictures, and I am sharing them only in the hope and expectation (in the words of former Majority Leader Mitchell) that none of you will see this incredible time warp place as an opportunity to introduce a shoe outlet mall or multi-media “life of the Mennonites” event (I never recovered from my one trip out to see the Pennsylvanian Dutch)

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Washington Post, Hamming it Up

The Washington Post had a great article of fresh ham yesterday – which makes sense since Sunday is Easter. Green Fence Farm will have fresh ham (and the rest of the pig) in about a month (in keeping with our motto, “always a day late and a dollar short”) in time to be well clear of any pork eating holiday. And though I have not tried the recipe listed here, we have brined and smoked fresh ham, and it is even better than the author says (and this author does go on and on). Read it here.

California, farmers markets, and one very cool link

Sorry about the fact that you all had to look at Nick’s mug for a solid week, but Viv and I were in California looking at colleges (for Viv – she is trying to figure out the maximum distance she can get from the farm without actually leaving the country). Low point: Disneyland’ California Adventure, where the “Farmer’s Market” eatery celebrating “California’s farm fresh tradition” featured “hamburgers, hot dogs, and fries.” Not even a pre-packaged salad. High point: San Francisco, where you can’t walk five feet without tripping over a farmers’ market.

In any case, we’re home and ready to start the Green Fence Farm buying season. If you are a reader of this page, in the DC metro area, and NOT a member of our buyers’ club, email me RIGHT NOW and get on our list. We’ll be sending out a pathetically short list of products tomorrow evening to buying club members, so make sure you get a chance to order now (and even more so in the future when we have lots to sell).

And for all of you CSA and Buying Club members anticipating the part of year when we actually get some green stuff, check out this link sent to me by Liz, ersatz family member and Austin’s girlfriend/roommate. It answers far better than I can the question, when can I expect produce and what am I supposed to do with it. Click here to play…

Green Fence Farm and Nick in 3/17 WaPo!

Media hound, Nick Auclair, got Green Fence Farm a mention in yet another press piece, this one a Washington Post story on local slaughter houses written by Sam Fromatz, one of our Capitol Hill customers. We quite enjoy the reference to Nick selling "out of the back of his truck" -- it gives us that edgy tinge we like to cultivate.

Read the story here: Local slaughterhouses come back to life

And Sam's blog post on writing the article here: Where Animals Become Local Meat: A Virginian Slaughterhouse

Tops and Bottoms

I spend a lot of February and March shifting through emails signing up (or resigning up) old and new members for our DC CSA (just a few shares left, check here for details). This is preceded by a January that I spend arguing with Nick that there has to be a better way to process orders. Other businesses have automatic web sign-ups with little shopping carts to click and, I assume, wonderful reports generated with everyone’s email, phone number, and payments all itemized. I answer email queries, try to write a personal note to everyone who joins, and read whatever information they want to share with me.

I know this is inefficient, but I think it makes me a better farmer. I don’t want to give a ratty box of strawberries to someone I feel like I know. And I think it gives my customers a little more connection to their food; there’s a human they know handing them that box of strawberries. The last Senator Willaim Proxmire was convinced that the only campaigning he needed to do was shake as many hands as he could across Wisconsin. “A man who shakes your hand will never vote against you.” My archaic ordering system is like that.

Which leads me to the book linked above: Tops and Bottoms. We’ve always had families with kids as customers, but this year it seems like we picked up several more. Tops and Bottoms is a great way to introduce kids(up to about second grade) to farm produce, in a fun, non-hectoring way. It is a classic trickster story of a family of rabbits who trick a lazy farmer. The rabbits offer to farm his land for him and split the crop. First they give him the top half (and grow root crops, like beets, and carrots). Then they give him the bottom half (and grow veggies like lettuce and squash). Finally, they give him the tops and bottoms saving the middles for themselves (corn). Our CSA members will see a lot of the vegetables in this story as our year goes on, and Tops and Bottoms is a fun way to make those veggies less strange to the more suspicious members of the family (not that they’ll eat them; I don’t promise miracles).

Sugar Snap Peas, St. Patrick's Day, and the Slow Food Movement

I’m doing two things to get ready for St. Patrick’s Day – ordering sugar snap peas to plant (since it is good luck to do so on St. Patrick’s day) and corning my own beef (following this Cooks Illustrated recipe – the picture to the left is the beef right after it got it’s salt rub (ala the finer spa treatments)). Doing both of these has led me to an epiphany about slow food (that is, local seasonal food you process yourself).

Food is better if you have to plan for it, wait for it, and work a little for it.

I can get sugar snap peas right now at Whole Foods. They are from Chile, and while not as sweet or crunchy as the ones we’ll start picking in May, I could have them immediately without any intervening period of crawling in the frozen mud or fretting over vines that come off the trellis during rains or picking for hours in one spot without making any dent in the pea population.


But during all that crawling, fretting, and picking, I’m also anticipating that first crunch and spurt of sweet. I’m thinking about the way the farm will be when I eat those first peas – warm, green, noisy with baby animals. The Chilean peas are easy and available, vegetable sluts, really. But they also come without sensory baggage, the good kind. They aren’t special; they are just food.


I could also buy corn beef – and the cabbage and potatoes I’ll serve with it (instead of using the cabbage and potatoes from last Fall I have stored). But I wouldn’t do that, mostly because I don’t really like corned beef, or I didn’t think I did.

The recipe for making corned beef came to my email this morning, and I decided to use the sirloin tip roast I was going to braise for this instead (not the cut the recipe calls for, but I bet the Irish didn’t just use the brisket, since, like flank steak, there just isn’t that much of it in a cow). While getting the beef ready, I thought about St. Patrick’s Day when I was a kid. We always had corned beef, cabbage, and boiled potatoes – the only time we ever had it. I remember not really liking it, but appreciating the shot at potatoes with butter, a rarity in my house where my mother practiced a strict anti-starch religion.


And I can see my Dad tucking into it, relishing it like a memory of the Old Country, claiming he loved it and why didn’t we have it more often. My father was not Irish, though he did resemble a happy Leprechaun. And he did enjoy a good holiday designed around food and drink. Opera night he was Italian, tears running down his face at arias he didn’t understand and plates of spaghetti washed down with Bolla Valpolicella at Chicago’s Italian Village. Oktoberfest it was beer and brats at the local Kicker’s Club. His birthday, he became a good ol’ boy, eating my Texan grandmothers lard fried chicken with Pinot Grigio (which my grandmother pronounced “pee-nee-oo gree-gee-oo” In an “ee-i-ee-i-o” rythmn).


And St, Patrick’s Day, beer and corned beef cabbage, a meal I am, to my surprise, eagerly anticipating next Wednesday. The more we slow our food down, the more it gives us in taste, context, and pleasure.

Northwest Current Article featuring Green Fence Farm

Click here to read the article, which also appeared in the Dupont Current, the Georgetown Current, and the Foggy Bottom Current.

The article appeared a few weeks back, but I only now figured out how to load it on the website. We really loved the write-up, nice to see in print an accurate report of exactly how much money we are losing doing this. They picked my favorite pictures too – especially the one of Viv aggressively NOT picking beans….

Yesterday Soup: Best Soup Ever

Remember that stock we made last week. Here’s how to use it to make the best soup ever.

By the end of the week, I have a refrigerator full of odds and ends. In the freezer, there are always a few containers of frozen one or two serving dinners that just hadn’t made it back to the table.

These are the building blocks of Leftover Soup – a fabulous and fabulously easy recipe that lets you revisit favorite meals, costs nothing, and is probably good for you.

The result is a soup that has hints of everything you ate the week before – a little Chinese spice from the leftover General Tsao’s, a beef flavor from the Tuesday meat loaf, some crunch from fried chicken Friday.

In its most basic form, leftover soup is made by saving all the leftovers from a week’s meals – leftover bread or other starches included, taking them on (for me, usually) Monday, dumping them in the crock pot, adding stock and water (if your stock is reduced down), cooking on low all day, and eating when you get home. Do take meat off the bones, but no other prep is needed. If you want Cream of Yesterday soup, use an immersion blender on the brew before serving.

OK, that is the no frill, no work version of Leftover Soup. But to make the Best Soup Ever takes a little more thought.

I discovered this Saturday, a day I was in the city, but without plans, child, or husband. I also had a refrigerator full of bits and pieces of leftovers that I I had hoped to eat during the week, but were still there come Saturday.

I started a sauté pan with some butter and added green onion (grown from one of our onions that had gone old and started to grow – you can do that you know), garlic, three whole dried cayenne peppers (from our garden, dried in the bathtub in the basement). I added some leftover harissa from the Capitol Hill restaurant Cava (harissa is a hot pepper and oil dip, I believe of African origins, but made by Cava, a greek mezza restaurant on Capitol Hill, and available at Whole foods). I also blended in Curry powder, garam masala, and ground fenugreek seeds.

I let this concoction sauté for a while, mostly to enjoy how great it made the house smell. Before the garlic burned, I added a couple cups of stock and some water (since my stock was quite reduced down and gelatinous). I covered the mixture and let it bubble away for a while – maybe an hour. If your lid is not tight and the liquid reduces down, add more back as you notice the level falling.

About 30 minute before I wanted to eat (maybe less), I first pulled out the dried chili pods. Then I threw in the low simmering pot the leftovers I had gleaned from the fridge – a bowl of Asian noodles in peanut sauce, a bowl of spicy chicken tikki masala (off the bone), a bowls of lightly cooked mixed veggies.

That’s it – the final result was incredibly spicy – which I wanted – probably the result of the harissa. But I loved it – and it was a one bowl meal, with a selection of veggies, tasty chicken, and Asian noodles.

The beauty of Leftover Soup is that you can choose the flavors from the last few weeks you want to revisit, you can add any herbs or other flavors you just want in any dish (for me, garlic and hot peppers), and you can use your own delicious stock.

Guinea Hens, mmmmmm

OK, I know I promised to post Guinea fowl/hen recipes here soon, but I was waiting to fix my favorite recipe and remember not to eat it before I took pictures. For the record here’s the recipe,

Roasted Guinea Hen with Whole Grain Mustard and Herbs.

And the reason I haven’t made it yet to photograph is that all my potatoes are at the farm and I am in DC. One of the best things about this recipe is the potatoes roasted along with the Guinea, crispy and tasting of hen and butter. I sometimes take the birds out of the pan to sit and settle a bit and put the potatoes back in the oven for a little more crisping.

In any case, I knew it was time to post this recipe when I got a call from Nick this morning saying he had “looked through the blog and couldn’t find the guinea hen recipes.” This is unprecedented – Nick does not cook or read recipes (or follow instructions of any kind), and Nick does not read our blog or website (his comments: “that looks like OUR Thanksgiving turkey on there”). He had, however, promised a couple of potential buyers that, if they took our hens, he could tell them, in a nice way, what to do with them. So here you go, potential buyers – get your checkbooks out!

And in searching for a picture of a cooked yet uneaten Guinea hen, I found this post on Principia Gastronomica that describes the care of taste of these birds much more succinctly than I.

I know some of our Buying Club members have bought Guinea fowl, and if you have done something with them besides curse the space they are taking up in your freezer, please post your ideas here – or email them to me with pictures.

My choice for the Oscars: Food Inc.

(You have to watch this trailer -- if for no other reason than it took me about three hours to figure out how to make it appear here).

I know, even with 10 movies on the “Best Picture” list this year (I haven’t even seen 10 movies this year, and that includes counting Food Inc. twice), my favorite isn’t on that list, but is nominated for best full length documentary. And it should walk away with the prize (not that I have seen, or even know of, any of the others. In fact, I don’t like documentaries, and I don’t think I’ve watched one in the theater since I was a kid and The Ra Expedition was the only movie playing in our one-horse, one-theater town for three whole weeks).

And it is not just that this movie is a two hour infomercial (a good one! Not the creepy type for hair removal products with Cher) for the kind of food we produce. Not just that our mentor and neighbor, Joel Salatin, is the good guy in the movie (they show him slaughtering chickens in a facility that could be ours). And not just because I have a crush on Michael Pollan (he is my old lady version of Davy Jones) who is featured throughout the movie speaking in his smooth, slightly amused voice sounding all smart and reasonable but with a tinge of passion.

More than all that, Food Inc. changed the way I think about what I eat, the way I eat, and, as a result, the way I live. And this is from someone who had, well before I saw the movie, decided to grow most of my own food, and what I couldn’t, to source locally.

I know what you are thinking – I know because several of you have already told me -- you don’t need to see a movie that puts you off your hamburger with gruesome slaughterhouse scenes. But even though Nick calls this movie a modern-day Sinclair Lewis-s “The Jungle,” its yuckiness factor is quite low. I’ve watched episodes of Law and Order that were much worse.

It is not the pictures that are disturbing in this movie (though it is often visually stunning); it is how it lays bare how big agri-business and food processors have enriched themselves by selling us food that has made us one of the sickest, fattest nations on earth. And I don’t believe we are a country of dolts. But Food Inc. shows that we have been lied to, injured, even killed in great numbers for money.

Yeah, that’s heavy stuff, But Food Inc. -- with cool but creepy music, crisp editing, the complete absence of a lecturing tone, real, charming characters (the aforementioned Pollan and Salatin to name two), and a positive ending – is not a heavy movie. Believe it or not, it’s fun to watch.

At its end, Food Inc. gives you realistic ways to escape the unhealthy, dishonest food we’ve all lived (and died) on for too long – and not horrible, unrealistic ideas like becoming a vegan (no offense to you already there) or never having another Ho Ho. In fact, if you are reading this blog, you probably are already removing yourself from the polluted food mainstream, buying from us or other local producers, demanding to know where you food comes from and who produces it before you feed it to your family.

So see the movie (or at least watch the trailer above), validate choices you already made, and let me know what you think.

Food Inc. is out on DVD and available to rent on Netflix and to buy at Amazon.

Leah

Mostly, this blog is about food, specifically the food I and you make from Green Fence Farm products. But sometimes the blog is about the farm and the souls that make it work. Leah, on the right with her sister, Lily, to the left, was one of those; today Nick pays tribute to her:

Leah, our Great Pyrenees sheep/goat guardian dog, died recently. She was an amazing dog—a gentle giant with an old soul. Despite a long history of hip dysplasia, she performed her duties wonderfully, without complaint. She asked for nothing—except for a bear hug or to sit on your feet. Several ewes were her friends—sitting together. Leah, during lambing time, would always find a ewe giving birth in the woods and lay protecting her in a most vulnerable moment.

Her greatest joy was for a person to sit on the ground so she could lie on top of them. She would have made a lousy pet—a big hairy, slobbery, ottoman sized dog—but as guard dog with hundreds of years of breeding she was well suited for her work. As we laid her to rest near a burial spot for past sheep and goats—so she could continue to perform the work she loved-- a flock of geese flew by in a seemingly memorial fly over. I’d like to think that her nemeses, the pack of coyotes that prowl the woods nearby, stood in silence for a moment to honor a fallen adversary. It will be hard to find another Leah—but her sister Lily will need another partner. I found more coyote tracks outside the perimeter fence and possibly a mountain lion track. The fight goes on—Leah would want that.

Nick

Taking Stock, Making Stock

When we started to farm for a living, the way I cooked changed – more than changed, turned inside out. I used to start with the recipe and searched down the ingredients, clutching my Gourmet, hunting that spice only found in “specialty Asian markets.” Now I start with ingredients – what’s in the freezer, garden, cold storage, and what can I do with it.

I wish that I made the change because I had become a cook who had advanced beyond the cookbooks – hardly. It is much more because that “making a living farming” comment above is really a joke. There is no room in the budget for pheasant from France when I have three chest freezers full of Guinea hen from my backyard.

And I don’t have to be a very good cook to work in this “ingredients first” way – because when the produce is straight from the garden and the proteins are pasture raised and processed well, it is hard to wreck a meal – and even harder to justify doing much more than sautéing in butter (or bacon fat!) or roasting over potatoes.

Which brings me to stock – if you are cooking by following ingredients rather than recipes (or, the technical term, “winging it with what you have”) you have to have good, homemade stock around – for instant soups, sauces, braising liquids.

My favorite sort of stock falls into the category of Ghosts of Dinners Past – stocks made from the leftovers of a roasted bird, most deliciously, turkey (though I am becoming partial to roasted Guinea Hen stock too).

We had a 19 pound turkey on Sunday for an open house. As Nick carved it for the platter, he tossed the carcass into my stock pot. Later as we cleaned up, the extra garnishes from the turkey platter went in as well, as did the carrots and celery from a veggie platter (on Thanksgiving, we throw the leftover potatoes and brussel sprouts in too, sometimes broccoli, cauliflower, rolls – Nick swears he can taste Thanksgiving in the soups made from that broth, like a wine connoisseur tasting the Burgundy spring air in his plonk ).

The stock pot can sit quietly on the stove, carcass covered, during dinner or the party. At night, we tie the lid on and set it outside (if it is going to be freezing, might as well treat the world as your own walk in freezer). In the morning, it goes on the stove, filled with water, and covered. Do not salt – later you will want to reduce the stock down – and even later when you use it for who knows what, you may reduce it down more. Salt doesn’t reduce down, and your stock will be nasty salty if you start salting at the beginning.

At night, back outside to cool. The next day, I scoop out as much of the bones and other junk as I can and boil the remaining liquid down to at least on half, and often more than that. . Cool, strain, freeze. The next day (or when you use it), scrape the fat off the top.

And what to use it for – oh come on, EVERYTHING, but stay tuned. Saturday, I think I’ll use some of this batch to make one of my favorites, leftover soup.

Chuck Roast with Orange and Cinnamon ala Mike Davis

One of my New Year’s resolutions was to update this blog more often, or at all. Another one of my New Year’s resolutions was to carry through on at least ONE of my New Year’s Resolutions sometime around New Year’s itself.

Oh well, Happy Chinese New Year, and here we go. I am going to update this sucker every day, or at least more than once a week. We have all sorts of new Buying Club and CSA members who I am sure will be happy to see I am typing my thoughts on food rather than cashing their checks or ordering seeds so that there is something in their baskets come June.

But here is the thought I was having about food yesterday: There are a lot of roasts in a cow. There is a lot of hamburger too (and only a teeeeeny bit of good stuff like filet and flank stead), but I can easily think of things to do with hamburger (like, say, make hamburgers). The roasts mostly need braising -- which would be fine if I didn’t live with Nick who won’t eat anything that can be described as “stew.”

So that leaves me with pot roasts that don’t fall off the bone or involve mushy potatoes or carrots (the latter, Viv’s demand).

Last night I tried a version of this unstewy, uncarroty braised meat dish sent to me by CSA member Mike Davis. I used a top blade chuck roast, though I imagine this could work on the tougher pieces of meat (it better, because we are out of top blade and the cow we had hoped to take to the butcher this month just isn’t the right size yet). I also got to use some oranges and fresh tomatoes I picked up on the way home from Florida last week. And this was the perfect dish for my very favorite big ol’ (yes, that is the official size) cast iron pot with a lid.

Brown the roast on both sides in some olive oil in the big ol’ pot on top of the stove. Remove the meat from the pan. Add to the hot and brown crunchy oil a couple rough chopped onions, maybe 3-8 (I like 8) whole, peeled garlic cloves, and a whole cinnamon stick. Cooks those until the onions are translucent, 5-10 minutes.

Turn off the heat, add a couple of peeled and halved oranges and a large rough cut tomato. Pour 2-4 cups of homemade chicken or turkey stock (I had stock going on the stove from turkey the day before, so yay me!). Salt and pepper to taste, and braise (covered with the big ol’ lid) in a preheated 300 degree oven for 3-4 hours (Mike used 275 degrees, but I was running behind and needed it to be done more in the 3 hour range).

When it’s done braising, remove the meat and keep it warm. Throw out the cinnamon stick and as much as the orange as you can recover (mine mostly disintegrated). Puree the remaining muck and boil it down to about 2-3 cups for sauce. Mike serves it over egg noodles – I used rice. It was great.

The picture above is of the meat right before it went in the oven. There was supposed to be a fabulous “here it is done” picture but we ate it too quickly – which I guess is a good thing.

Kate