Rainbeau Ridge Weblog

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

Double Dipping, Paula Deen

In our business, manure is often referred to as a source of “double dipping” revenue—you pay to have it taken away and you pay to have it returned as compost—lucky hauler!

While my sympathies are with Paula Deen for having to suffer with type 2 diabetes, I’m horrified by the double, if not triple dipping she commits. For years, Ms. Deen has been promoting the most unhealthy (albeit tasty) recipes—butter, oil, sugar and more spilling off of the recipe pages. I am used to my chef friends saying ‘butter is your friend’ but ‘moderation’ is at least in the next sentence. Not the case with her brand of southern cooking.

So while Ms. Deen sat on her health news for several years (her right), she continued to profit from a kind of cooking which she knew was uncategorically dangerous. As of late, her recipes are being refashioned by her son, in a healthier format (dip #2). On top of all this, we learn that she is promoting a diabetes medicine (dip #3)—giving some, not all of her earnings to diabetes causes. Are you kidding me?

Let’s hope this is a wake up call to consumers—don’t be sucked in to blindly following celebrity chefs without critically thinking about what you’re buying into . . . Don’t let them profit at your expense.

-Lisa

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

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. 

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!

A Different Lens . . . Fowl Play

Want a good laugh?  Try to imagine this.  Your friend Julie can officially say she caught a flying baby turkey.  In midair.  Yup, in the basement of the farmhouse.  How’s that for a visual?  I’ll tell you how it happened as I welcome you back to our Cineplex where comedy is a regular feature, particularly in this one wing of the farm complex. 

It all started when a couple of our high school volunteers were cleaning two of the cages that house 22 baby turkeys that hatched a little over three weeks ago.  It’s a bit of a chaotic assignment to begin with, meaning the turkeys aren’t always the most cooperative.   As the volunteers started the cleaning process, two of the birds escaped and kept escaping their grasp.  Instinctively, I raised my hands and grabbed the turbo-flying turkey like I was catching a perfectly thrown Tom Brady pass, only it wasn’t quite as graceful as it sounds.   Still, I caught the little guy and it surprised the hell out of all of us—me more than anyone, for sure.  We broke out into hysterics.  Turkeys are not the smartest of all farm animals, but they’re often a great source of humor.

Another humorous turkey incident occurred just before the babies were old enough to be transferred out of the basement.  While Ron was working in the turkey pen, a few of the adult turkeys broke into the peacock section of the bird “paddocks".  Talk about an odd juxtaposition of feathery friends—who knew turkeys and peacocks and their female counterparts would get along so well?  And because they get along so well, the new poults have their own pen to themselves while their elders live with the peacock and peahens!

This brings me to the grand ‘ol musical, another feature that pops up every now and then on the farm.  Genki (Japanese for Uber healthy, being the only survivor of her 3 other siblings) has recently been integrated with her own kind.  We originally thought she was a peacock; it took a couple months for her markings to come in.  To our collective surprise we discovered he was a she.  We had to keep her isolated from the other adults (another potential killing field “amongst their own kind”) until she was fully-grown. 

Blair and I kept her company on many a cold winter night, climbing into her pea hen house, preening and petting her while I would sing, “The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Music,” and Blair would do her very best Maria Callas by singing opera.

As a little side note—I missed my Royal Wedding photo op, with adult Genki adorning my head, making for a great headdress, hands down, and no competition on this one!

Not too long ago another wonderful discovery took place while I was milking a few of the nervous goats.  Turns out that my mellifluous singing relaxed them almost immediately.  There’s a theme here.  I found myself singing to Llulu the lama while on our walks (yes, like a dog on a leash), and also singing to the tomatoes while they were in their recovery.  Who knew singing show tunes from The Sound of Music for my eighth birthday would become so useful in my adult life on the farm?  It’s crossed my mind to invite Julie Andrews to Rainbeau Ridge.  I’m sure it would make her sing, too.   And I do believe Lisa will be naming one of the kids Julie.  So, Dear Julie Andrews, if you happen to read this blog . . . you’ll see these hills are definitely alive.

-Julie

Lucy and Ethel, Rainbeau Ridge Style

For the last couple of days I’ve been eying the strawberry patch in my backyard.  Like so many magical perennials, the berry plants somehow endured the frigid winter and reappeared this spring, most recently prolific with flowers.

Having just talked to our cooking class attendees about the joys of fresh, local, organic strawberries and how they should freeze them to help get through the winter, I was anxious to enjoy the first red fruits but torn about consuming now vs saving for the winter.  That decision was made easier as the unseasonably warm temps coaxed forth so much fruit, swelling their size, shining up their color.  

The sun-kissed berries burst with flavor.  I found myself picking three and eating one, picking two, eating one.   And they kept coming!  Lifting up the leaves that camouflaged the fruit, I discovered more and more as I went down the rows.  In a Lucy & Ethel chocolate factory moment, I couldn’t seem to pick fast enough or consume enough.  With red juices staining my fingers and lips, I decided to call it a day and bring my treasures inside. Sharing some with family, others were headed for my frozen stash.

There are a lot of reasons to look forward to tomorrow—now I have one more! 

-Lisa

A Pleasant Day in Pleasantville

A day at the farmer’s market is the ultimate in marketing your product—you know from the look on a customer’s face, instaneously, whether your product is a hit or not.   We offer samples to passersby, most accept eagerly; some insist they do not like goat cheese—but an occasional soul will try bravely.  From fresh and clean to more robust, the preferences sort out and after a few weeks, the regulars beeline back to the tent to purchase their favorite.

For us it’s an early start to the day, packing up cheeses, ice, tents, tables and decorative touches. With the car fully loaded, the ride down the Saw mill Parkway is easy this time of the morning.  Hoping the weather is in our favor (both for customer flow and our comfort), we find our spot and begin unpacking.

Last weekend was the 2011 season opener —as vendors unloaded, some up since 3am, making the long drive from their upstate farms, returning ones greeted each other and newbies checked out the scene, figuring out which 10 foot section belongs to them.  Several vendors had participated in the ever growing indoor winter markets but for many of us it’s been six months off.  So it’s a reunion of sorts, family coming back after the long winter holiday.  Greetings, news updates, hugs, and more break the quiet of the early morning as it morphs into a calm buzz in anticipation of the first customers.

For customers it’s a reunion too—emerging from homes on these lovely spring days, walking dogs, chatting with neighbors, sampling the day’s products.  As they stream towards our tent, a smile of recognition on their faces, they offer warm greetings as they tell of missing the cheese for all these months.  I beamed at the sight of a one year old, who I knew as a bump in his mom’s belly when she asked whether our cheeses are pasteurized a year ago.  Couples banter as they try to remember which cheese was their favorite.  Others boast at having eaten at area restaurants and enjoying, as an insider of sort, the cheese there. 

If I have any doubts about why I do this, a day at the market is a good reminder why!

-Lisa

A Different Lens . . . Now Playing

I bet you’re wondering what’s playing at the Rainbeau Ridge Cineplex this month.  Of course, we have our usual full range of comedy and drama, but if you like horror films we’re featuring a story about some fierce creatures making their presence felt with a vengeance. 

Grubs, mealy bugs and bean aphids are on the attack.  The title of their blockbuster smash is, “Seek and Destroy.” As spring unfolds these over-wintered alien monsters rear their ugly heads and zero in on almost everything that has been transplanted or direct seeded on the farm.   They’re on a mission from hell to decimate everything they land on.   These nasty little creatures are equal opportunity bullies -- they don’t care what plants they mess with.   They love the 6 varieties of cabbage we planted.  They’re obsessed with the Napa, broccoli, purple and cheddar cauliflower we’re growing.  And literally, right before my eyes, I witnessed a throng of beetles razing whole plant beds; it was like a David Copperfield disappearing act. 

Oh, and we got quite a scare from the potential reappearance of Late Blight.  As you may remember, when LB touched down on the East Coast 2 years ago, it took down all the tomatoes in the North East. Talk about having a freak out, we had over 300 tomato plants, 75 of which were to be transplanted and the rest made available for the farm’s annual plant sale.  It was the same fungus that brought down Ireland during the Great Potato Famine. That episode sent me into a full-on panic attack until we reached out to one of the legendary farmers I’ve been so lucky to be in contact because of Lisa’s wonderful connections.  The legend that is Annie Farrell (she co-designed a great deal of the farm for Lisa) suggested a remedy that saved all 22 tomato varieties just in the nick of time before they were to be transplanted into the pool garden (drilled holes and filled with soil when the farm was started), while the balance of tomatoes, tomatillos, peppers and eggplant were also rescued so they could be sold at the sale this week as well (I'm so proud that we had over 20 varieties of healthy tomato plants to offer, along with more than 13 peppers and tons of eggplants).  Good thing these horror films have happy endings.    

To be honest, I was struck by my obsession with all these creatures.  Where did it come from?  Why was I losing sleep thinking about bugs and their impact on everything we do here?   Then it hit me.   Under my adult peace/love and all things natural veneer I realized what a terror I was as a little girl.  I loved killing bugs with potions I created in the kitchen.  I took great pleasure in burning them to a crisp with micro-fine glass.  It’s the stuff therapy is made of and while I can’t change the past… it has fueled a different kind of obsession these days.  

As an adult, my interest in these creepy crawly characters demanded that I hit the farm library and read anything and everything I could find about bugs, fungus and diseases.  And if it wasn’t in the library I spent nights on the internet trying to Google as much information as possible.  The farm has made me a different person.  I’ve said on more than one occasion how what a wonderful opportunity this has been to date, but this was bugging me (sorry, I couldn’t resist).  I was reading everything I possibly could.  If there was something I didn’t know, I would call the organic insecticide companies and talk to their experts for further clarity and education.  If there’s such a thing as a healthy OCD, I had it now.   No joke. 

If I was still unclear about something I’d reach out to Jerry, my contact at the Cornell Garden Extension Program for our county.  I’ve been having bi-monthly phone conversations with him since Isaac left, and Jerry’s finally making it to the farm this week.  Upon Lisa’s suggestion we’ve invited him to join our weekly garden co-op meetings.   I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wanted Jerry to myself to answer my laundry list of questions, but that would take hours, if not days.   And my true egalitarian nature is to share, so I’ll abandon any selfish thoughts for the benefit of us all, because Jerry’s wealth of knowledge has to be shared.  

What we experience here is a Close Encounter of the Extraordinary Kind, where horror stories and alien visits morph into incredible learning experiences that help us all grow.   Yes, life here at Rainbeau Ridge can be other-worldly.  Just like the movies… only here we don’t have to suspend our disbelief… what happens in our farm Cineplex is real.  It’s visual.  Emotional.  Thrilling.  Scary.  Heartwarming.  Sustaining.  And just plain amazing!

-Julie