It was just one of those days—the insanity of Spring and the farm was dizzyingly busy.
Before morning rounds and milking even began, Alanis decided to kick off the day by delivering her twins, pre-dawn. With the sun just popping up, Justin tackled rounds, Ron took on the milking of our first set of does, I hit the milk parlor, ladling our second batch of the season before heading to bottle feed our early kids. The farmhouse kitchen was sparkling and the spring opener of in lisa’s kitchen with Nicki teaching knife skills was about to launch. The trio of co-op gardeners set to work in the office, watering seedlings, the hoop house and planting more peas in the pool garden. Kevin tackled the last of spring’s essential farm improvements. And before we could even catch our breath, it was noon. Cooking students armed with their new skills, had departed, barns were cleaned, the garden was in order (save the newly discovered pests in the hoop house), molds were brimming with curd and it was time again to feed those adorable babes.
I love when people call to set a meeting and say “let’s do it early, maybe 10am”—by then we’ve put in a whole day’s work on the farm! Exhilarating in its whirling dervish pace and I wouldn’t want it any other way!
-Lisa
March 27, 2012
Strange, but Enjoyable
There was something vaguely familiar about it. I can’t put my finger on it. As I came around the corner to the farm on Sunday morning, red maple buds carpeting the road after being knocked off by a gentle rain, a cool mist in the air, a cloud-filled sky, it finally dawned on me. I recognized it—Spring!
The reason it was so hard to recognize was because we were only just emerging from the strangest winter in ages. Not that I minded the no snow concept . . . I never once put on my carhartt overalls. And it was a pleasure not to be constantly cracking ice from animal water buckets.
But the shoulder season never existed. There was virtually no maple sugaring, no mud season. And then summer temps happened—the whole thing has me a little spooked. What price will we pay for the mild winter? What happens when the weather decides to be spring or even worse, the winter that wasn’t—what will become of our trees and plants that are many weeks ahead of schedule?
As the clouds dissipated, the sun poked out, highlighting the verdant green grass. The bluebirds played in the orchard and I decide to stop thinking and just enjoy—each day for what it is.
-Lisa
March 05, 2012
Almost Kidding
The moon is bright, the stars are out, the air is crisp and the barn, newly cleaned, smells of fresh hay. A perfect scene set for kidding season. I've been away from the barn for much of the winter, the does under Lauren's and Ron's care. But it didn't take more than a couple of midnight barn checks and it all came flooding back to me-- I'm pumped for my absolutely favorite time of year-- the miracle of birth.
With Olivia and Florence, sisters O and Flo bedded down and virtually inseparable, we all have our ways of preparing for this special season.
-Lisa
February 29, 2012
The Empty Barn
As we approach kidding season, my antennae are up for signs of any does in labor.
Normally, winter weather and discomfort would drive the girls inside the barn. The floor would be packed, gently swelling bellies, abutting neighbors. It would require careful stepping to negotiate around the does to do barn checks.
I was having a dinner last night at the farm with a couple of my best farmer girlfriends, something we do too infrequently. I think this was a 'do it now before we're knee deep in the season' dinner. Good catching up and lots of laughs!
Before I left for home I thought it would be a good idea to do a barn check particularly since when I left the farm this morning, I had noticed a goat who was pawing and groaning with the intensity of early labor signs. I jumped out of the car to check more closely and quickly convinced myself it was nothing but this reminded me, although we may be a week away from official due dates, goats don't read calendars.
The mid-evening barn check was a hoot-- all quiet, all girls were outside enjoying what's left of the nice weather. The barn was empty of does, and it caught me by surprise . . . but it was due to nothing more than the girls enjoying a lovely starry night (still cold to me!).
I did get to say goodnight to Llulu (our llama) and Gracie (our barn cat). At least they seemed glad to see me.
Don't forget to tune in to the BarnCam and watch the goings on or the empty barn!
-Lisa
January 19, 2012
Good Food Awards
(aka a good excuse to go to San Francisco for a few days)
I’m proud to say that two of our cheeses, Meridian and MontVivant were recognized along with 11 other cheesemakers by the Good Food Awards, presented this past Friday. Artisan producers of cheese, charcuterie, pickles, beer, preserves, coffee and chocolate from across the country proudly featured their sustainably crafted foods for the over 200 attendees that night.
Held in the Ferry Terminal Building and with speakers and presenters including Alice Waters and Ruth Reichl, it was a real kick. We sampled the delicious winning entries, chatted about the highs and lows of artisan foods. Two great takeaways—Avalanche goat cheese, Wendy Mitchell (www.avalanchecheese.com) makes several delicious varieties—try it if you can find it! Sea salt chocolate caramels from Gilt Taste (www.gilttaste.com) liddabit sweets sea salt caramels—in our goodie bag and I consumed them in minutes!
Back in SF, I was reminded of what a great food culture it is out here. Legends and newcomers, the climate, both physical and attitudinal, all embrace fresh, local and seasonal ingredients. Proudly featuring them, the trendy Mission District’s latest restaurants did not disappoint. Heirloom and Slow Club were on our list along with Mission Cheese (ww.missioncheese.net), where cheesemongers Liz & Eric shared some great choices with us. And no food expedition would be complete without some inventive ice cream flavors at BiRite Creamery (www.biritecreamery.com).
One of the highlights of the Ferry Building is undoubtedly Cowgirl Creamery. With lines overflowing into the hallway, customers get to sample the most amazing cheeses. A new addition is Sidekick, Cowgirl’s stall next door where you can feast on cheese-based dishes. I loved seeing Sue and Peg at their Saturday night cheese reception.
Thank goodness for the fitness culture—pairs well (necessarily) with the food one! We walked the marina to the Golden Gate Bridge, hiked the Marin Headlands and generally strolled the city as we are known to do before returning home.
Pumped by our recognition, I can hardly wait for the 2012 season and being back in production. Today Meridian . . . tomorrow something even better?
-Lisa
January 18, 2012
August 15, 2011
How Many Seasons?
My son, the Michigan graduate, used to say, in college there were two seasons, ‘winter’ and ‘construction’. For most if us, four seasons is more the norm. But as a gardener, I feel there are many more than four.
The cusps of the seasons are themselves unique time periods. For example, the end of winter, the air, just at the edge of spring here in the northeast, has a sweet smell to it. The accompanying moisture is clean and sugary. The gray landscape is slightly edged with chartreuse as spring lies in waiting. If you’re out in the early morning as farmers are, the slightest increase in bird life is in evidence.
Currently it’s August and by anyone’s standards, we’re well into summer. But I would disagree—the morning lawn is graced with dew, the sun is already rising lower in the morning sky, setting noticeably earlier at night. It smells like ‘school’…a new season?
And then there are the seasons as defined by crops—we are deep into tomato season right now—those heirloom varieties with their cracks and crevices, juices dripping as I slice them liberally on my tomato sandwich (perhaps the only permitted use for mayonnaise but stunning with our mixed herb goat cheese spread). We’ve passed through blueberry season too quickly. Peaches are here and I can’t wait for pear season! Eating seasonally is not only healthy for you but the flavor is so superior—you wish you could bottle it!
There are a few alternatives to hold onto those edible seasons. From where I sit, there’s no such thing as “too many tomatoes” or a “zillion zucchini”. I am intent on finding a few more ways to prepare those ingredients, eating more than I should, knowing that before too long, those tastes will be only distant memories. And although it takes some time, a “no regrets” approach is to freeze or preserve. (Zucchini relish is pictured here; full tips to follow.)
Two? Four? More? No matter how you account for the seasons, there’s no doubt that every occasion on the farm is unique, precious and most certainly delicious.
-Lisa
A Different Lens . . . Fond Farewell
As my 10-month internship comes to an end I am struck by a quote from Abraham Lincoln that says, “The greatest fine art of the future will be making a comfortable living from a small piece of land.” How did he know? At this point in my life I can truly say that I’m a living, breathing example of Abe’s insightful prediction.
At first it was hard to imagine integrating my 25-year career as an LA-based advertising entertainment photographer with a total immersion in sustainable organic farming. But it happened -- amazingly, beautifully, sometimes with difficulty, but always profoundly. It’s allowed me to coin a new expression, “I’ve been debarnacalized.” I define this as breaking a lifelong routine and series of attachments while opening myself up to a whole new horizon of experiences. Nothing is lost in the process. It’s my way of saying this love affair with an inexplicable something I’ve found within the garden has brought me to a place in life I could never have expected; the path from the garden is going to continue with new chapters.
So as I pull my head out of the soil, so to speak, it’s time for a little reflection. This was a year Mother Nature unleashed her fury. Record breaking weather patterns tested everyone’s mettle. From the worst Nor’easters the North East has seen since the 20’s, to the unrelenting spring flooding, right into a sweltering heat wave that topped the mercury at 107 degrees. Extremes were the norm. Each season was so unpredictable it was hard to get a handle on what to prepare for. My mantra became “expect the unexpected.” It should have been exhausting, but instead it was totally invigorating. You’d think after a day’s work of harvesting 2,250 heads of garlic I would have collapsed. Tired, yes. Ready for more, absolutely. Call me Julie the sponge, because I was definitely taking it all in, rain or shine, snow, sleet or hail – I wanted to be in the eye of the storm, and I was.
A kaleidoscope of images from the farm has cast its spell on me. I won’t forget animals breeding and dying right before my eyes, or the mid-wifing of many births late into the snowy night, and a most unusual relationship with ‘Genki’ the pea hen. There were lovely walks with Llulu the llama. I experienced the baby turkeys hatching, the kids growing, milking the does, and hearing the billy goats bleating.
And then there was the mind-bending strategic planning that felt like mental somersaults, involving such things as insuring proper crop rotation, succession planting, seed calculations per bed space requirements while landing each crop safely into the ground. Not to mention the madness of future uncertainty, i.e. the potential loss of over 300 tomatoes. It took incredible persistence and an ultimate display of faith across the board to see it all through. This was definitely not for the faint-of-heart.
I couldn’t wait to go to sleep at night, only to discover what awaited me in the garden the next morning. Walking the gardens at 6:30 AM with a cup of coffee in hand initiated my days. Traversing fields of cool wet grasses (in winter months, crampons worn in the crustiest of icy garden landscapes) to reach the gardens awakened my senses. Talk about aromatherapy, this was the ultimate. Refreshingly effervescent, the path between the hoop houses lined with chamomile and thyme heightened my senses.
As my last days on the farm unfolded, my experiences ran together ranging from the subtle to the overwhelming, an accumulation of events I often described as a cinema multiplex, a living theater, an awakening of a force so great that it will be forever etched into my memory. Whew! My photography captures moments, but this is a canvas with no borders, a series of images, sensations, teachings and realizations that leave me breathless and in a state of awe.
The chef at Bedford Gourmet calls me her “farmer.” The encouragement and support I’ve gotten from the garden co-op members has been extraordinary. Who knew I’d have such a wide smile on my face because of genuine relationships with a few of these wonderful peeps and even with a pea hen (a female peacock)! I’m reminded of the beginning of my internship and my ‘Edward Scissorhands’ faux pas of hacking down a rare pink grape vine to a half -inch from the ground which Isaac thought I killed. Not to mention the Elderberry tree I chopped down to a shocking state. But lucky for me, both are thriving now. In one of the first few blogs I asked the question, “Do we REALLY learn from our lessons?” Something to think about.
This symbiotic theatre of nature and all our surroundings here on the farm have heightened the poetry of my life and, even more importantly, given me a deeper appreciation that compels me to continue to contribute to new frontiers. If you follow the signposts of life they often lead you where you’re supposed to be. With all that I’ve learned, the next part of my journey takes me to a new adventure where I will be designing my first farm for a Hollywood studio executive and client for 27 years. After that I will venture into the field of soil micronutrients, working with business visionaries to unlock more mysteries of the world in order to take better care of it. I reflect on the irony that I will be learning ‘cutting edge’ techniques from an Amish farmer who will be my bridge in this venture that will benefit everyone from the back yard gardener to the business farmer.
So, with a tip of my hat to Lisa who so generously opened her farm doors to me and a huge applause to the RR Team, I thank you all. I will take with me all the jewels I mined from mother nature and all of you which include Isaac and the four months of his brilliant mentorship; the cooking adventures late into the night with Blair; Kevin’s insightful ways to navigate “the RR waters” literally and figuratively; Ron’s brilliance ranging from animal husbandry to identifying exotic edible volunteers; Lauren’s unforgettable laughter while working in minus fourteen degree weather making for great memories (I’ll work by your side any day); and Karen’s kindness and her passion to teach; and to the audience of my family and friends and your unwavering support-Wow! I love you.
Signing off for now with deep thanks, as the adventure unfolds…
-Julie Brothers
June 22, 2011
Gizmos & Gadgets
In lisa’s kitchen, we offer cooking classes to inspire home cooks to master basic skills, learn new techniques and find inspiration stemming from the garden’s bounty. We ‘promise’ at least on ah-ha moment in each class and after almost ten years we haven’t disappointed.
A running joke is that the kitchen generally has all the necessary tools and then some. So when a chef says he needs a microplane, it’s there; a silpat, check; squeeze bottle, got that too; mandoline, immersion blender, no problem. You might say any cooking program worth its salt would have these items. I would agree.
But over the years I have acquired some kitchen toys that might not fall into the essential category. For instance, there’s the pasta maker, no, not the roller type but the one that you add ingredients, point and shoot. The apple/peeler/corer may have been fun for the first spiral it created and then got relegated to the bottom drawer. And we can’t forget the onion goggles, a gift.
As unnecessary as they may be, gadgets are fun. My daughter Bari came home recently from a party in NYC where a whipped cream maker was repurposed to extract flavors from ingredients and infuse liquor. After hearing her description of this molecular gastronomic event, we rushed out to our favorite local store, Charles Dept Store in Katonah where we knew we’d find the device. Returning home, we assembled strawberries and bananas, coffee beans, chocolate and almonds and set at infusing vodka, supplied by my sister Karen, co-conspirator in this kitchen chemistry experiment. The results were delicious—but I sent the gadget home with Bar, knowing its fate if left with me.
Recently, back in lisa’s kitchen, we needed some freshly squeezed lemon juice so naturally it was time to talk gizmos & gadgets. In its simplest form, taking a lemon, rolling it gently on the counter, slicing along the equator and inserting a fork, efficiently extracts the prized juice. But then there are reamers (recently featured in Florence Fabricant’s New York Times column), citrus presses and of course electric juicers (yes I have two of those!). While I love having the juicers when I’m doing multiple fruits for my sponge cakes, I can’t help but chuckle as I pull them out, use and clean them before returning them to disuse for many months.
At the end of the day, my vote is for simplicity. To cook, you don’t need gizmos and gadgets—all you really need are a set of great knives (also available at Charles) and fire.
June 19, 2011
Desperately seeking bluefish-- from pond to plate
Without any real forethought, Mark & I set out on a weekend away. It was our anniversary and for business reasons, we needed to be in Boston (one of our favorite cities) so we improvised from there, retracing old haunts from Massachusetts to Rhode Island to Connecticut and home. The routes were familiar but the food fest was new and fabulously delicious!
The tickling of the taste buds began in Boston’s financial district at Radius, run by Chef Michael Schlow. From James Beard to Food & Wine to all the Boston Magazines, the awards and accolades are too numerous to count. Lunch was a treat, the flavors of spring were harmonious as well as beautifully presented and accented with the help of some molecular gastronomy.
Although hunger didn’t drive us, the reviews did—we moved on to Providence, where despite passing through a million times, we’ve never spent a minute. Our dinner reservation was at Local 121. As you can imagine, I was drawn there by the attention paid to local fare—from veggies to fish to brews. Honestly, the food of Chef Dave Johnson was among the best I’ve had in a long time. The flavors were complex yet uncomplicated. Without a doubt Mark & I couldn’t get enough of the bluefish pate. You might wonder what the big deal was -- it was smoky yet light, lemony but not acidic—we might have made a meal of the pate alone but entrees arrived and did not disappoint. My honey-miso glazed salmon might make you a skeptic thinking this dish is ubiquitous but I swear it was magical. With no room for dessert, we left vowing to return. We’ve even plotted about routing through Providence on our next trip to Beantown just to get back to Local 121.
It turns out, Providence is a quite a food town. Numerous restaurants, too little time. We considered a movable feast but would have needed a designated driver! We did take in the Saturday farmer’s market, Farmstead Cheese Shop and artisanal bakeries (like a busman’s holiday…). At the market in the park, we found a local fisherman selling none other than smoked bluefish—the very same that is used in the divine pate of Local 121. Unfortunately, we were 36 hours from home so a purchase seemed out of the question. We did find out that the fish monger would be at a Sunday market in CT but…
Fresh fruit smoothies in Newport, pastries on Federal Hill, brunch in the jewelry district and dinner in an iconic Italian eatery, I’m afraid to get on the scale. Despite the range of fare, we schemed the whole ride home about bluefish—would Mt Kisco Seafood have it? Could I smoke it on the grill? Who would debone it?!? The mystery was solved when we diverted off the interstate into small town CT to stalk the fishmonger—as they husband and wife duo were packing up their last few pieces of seafood, we snagged the treasured fish. Inspired by the garden, our shaved beets with mint and tarragon, sautéed zucchini and garlic scape pesto accompanied our dinner in the best restaurant ever—home!
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