Rainbeau Ridge Weblog

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 . . . Walking Hoop House for Shameless Beauty

My forearms burn from non-stop shoveling of the hoop houses out from under all the snow.  The grandeur of the hoop houses is shrinking by the day under the ever-shifting white horizon line.  New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg announced that the city had experienced the snowiest January in its history, enduring 36 inches of snow since Jan. 1, breaking the old record of 27.4 inches in 1925.  This does not include the first Nor’easter during Christmas or the one that is currently rearing its apocalyptic head across much of the nation.  At the farm, we’ve taken in over 75 inches in 1.25 months!  If only we could fit the tractor between the two hoop houses to shovel out all the snow.  (Check out this picture of me on the tractor . . . I'm only sitting on it, leaving its use to the people who know how to do so!)

  

You may be asking why all the fuss over the hoop houses. The hoop house is where our brave little seedlings grow in the winter.  To date, we have started about seven thousand seedlings in what we call the garden studio, serving as my shared office space on one side and growing space on the other. We then moved them into these “magic” houses, a protected space, defying the winter elements of Mother Nature.  Layered by only two thick sheets of translucent plastic separated by a constant stream of pumped air (but not heated), they absorb sunrays and insulate from the cold.  On a sunny day, it could be six degrees outside and sixty degrees inside. 

Walking into this “spa” the air is moist and warm, infused with the sweet smell of fresh young growth.  I can feel my dry skin bouncing back from the burning cold outside.  The warm aromatherapy of a nutrient-rich soil and chlorophyll elixir defrosts my windpipe and fills my chilled lungs.  Invigorated, I’ve found another garden beauty secret, our own farm spa, equipped with oxygen bar!

Walking out the door at 7am to the tune of minus eleven degrees on a sunny day is . . . well, it can be exhilarating with the right frame of mind.  Oddly, it felt warm, considering how cold it was.  The only perceptible difference between the other days, with the temperature hovering in the single digits was the unusual feeling of an ultra-thin sheet of frost forming on the outer layer of my eyeballs.  The only way I knew it was happening was by the “crunching” sensation upon blinking.  It was a little bewildering and strange, but nevertheless a novelty just as long as it wasn’t doing any damage.

Speaking of exposure, the harsh weather and elements are not good for the seedlings and not good for my complexion either!  I was concerned by the potential damage it was causing.  During the fall, when we were still milking the goats, I started experimenting with the filters used for straining the milk straight from the milking parlor. When the milking season winds down, the milk is most concentrated in fat, which is rich in lactic acid. The fatty milk gets trapped in these filters. It was then that I had the ‘ah-ha’ moment of “harvesting” another fine beauty secret from the farm. Though difficult to secure these milk fat enriched filters to my cheeks (too vain to show you this picture), I assure you it can be done!

I recalled the stories of ancient Egyptians bathing in pools of fermented milk to beautify their skin.  So at the farm, I decided to slather some goat cheese on my face. The thick and smooth texture of the cheese reminded me of luxurious $100/1.5 oz facial creams found only at Neiman Marcus!  So before the cheese season was over, I dolloped (with permission) a scoop of a farm favorite salt-less cheese (salt can be drying) into a dozen miniature Ziploc baggies which I then placed in the freezer.  A three month’s supply will get me through the worst of winter. Upon defrosting an individual packet – voila!  I’ve scheduled in my weekly farmstead goat cheese facial! 

To further maximize the benefits of my facial, I place Saran Wrap over my face cutting out holes for the eyes, nose, and mouth to keep the cheese from drying. I found this also takes advantage of my own body heat to assist in the absorption of all those skin nurturing fatty acids. I may look like a walking hoop house but vanity has no shame and I still have my priorities. And what a world of a difference it makes! I’ve found a solution to combat the negative impact of exposure to the elements. It turns out that I can have my cheese and eat it too, maintaining beautiful skin while continuing down the internship path of a sustainable farmer.

Hmm, perhaps I’m onto something here!  I’ll keep you posted.

-Julie

Reflecting on 2010, with Thanks

In our book, Over the Rainbeau, we name each seasonal chapter with a pair of descriptors—Fall is "Bittersweet Bounty", Winter is "Restoration & Reflection".  So as I stand here on the cusp between both seasons, I’m feeling a bit of each.

Being in the latter half of Fall, it’s more about bittersweet—knowing that the garden is coughing up its last, best efforts to fill our pantries, root cellars and freezers before being put to bed for the winter.  Having been tended so lovingly by Isaac, Sara, Samantha and scores of volunteers, it has been a truly remarkable harvest. 

With winter fast approaching—ask the goats to tell you about their already popped, winter coats—the daily burden of tasks is diminishing.  We’re only milking enough to pasteurize every other day; only one more week of farmers markets; evening chores are done within an hour.  The extra time allows for catch up on projects left unattended for many months, paperwork that should have been pushed long ago. 

And having just celebrated the holiday of Thanksgiving, enjoying evenings in front of a fire, I find myself in a contemplative mood as I reflect on the 2010 season and muse on what’s to come.

Reflecting on this past season, I have to acknowledge and thank all the many wonderful people who helped make 2010 so fabulous.  From our farm team to our teaching staff to our ever-growing group of volunteers, THANK YOU!  Without your dedication and hard work, we would not flourish.  Our customers—individuals, kids, families, our book readers, restaurants and stores—are among the best.  We appreciate your support, your feedback and loyalty.  Presumably the rewards of community, nutritious and delicious food, food and learning experiences have meant a lot to you.

No thanks would be complete without singling out two individuals, without whom the farm would not exist—my husband Mark and my sister Karen.  I couldn’t do justice to their contributions so I’ll leave this with my bountiful thanks.

There is one last piece of bittersweet to the season.  Isaac and his wife Jen (or as I like to refer to her, Dr. P.J.) will be leaving us shortly when they move to the next leg of their journey as she pursues her medical career.  Besides Isaac’s being an awesome grower, soil scientist, teacher and all around nice guy, Isaac and Jen have become an important piece of Rainbeau Ridge’s family and history.  We wish them well and hope they’ll stay close to us even when they are far away.

For now, I’ll finish tasks at hand and retreat to the warmth indoors and brainstorm on how we’ll roll out our 2011 (9th!) season, hopeful and confident that as in every season past, it will be an even more remarkable adventure.

In thanks and with love,
-Lisa

Managers of Rot

For years, cheese making has been referred to as ‘controlled spoilage’ but after this week’s American Cheese Society Conference in Seattle, we have a new distinction—Managers of Rot!

 It was meant as a compliment—in a very back-handed way—delivered by Michael Pollan in his remarks which closed the conference on Saturday.  Referring to his food rules, he reminded us that it’s important to eat real food—and to know what real food is, one of its attributes (in addition to having less than five ingredients, all pronounceable and things your grandmother would recognize) must be that it rots.  This is in contrast with preservative rich, Twinkies, reportedly still squeezably fresh after two years!

So the fact that  as cheese makers we fabricate a food which does in fact rot, makes us producers of real food—an honor these days.  There were some notable exceptions among us—cheeses with preservatives and vacuum packaging that were only a few steps above the Kraft, low fat cheese American cheese slices that Pollan disparagingly used as an example of what’s not real.

Real or not, rot or not, the group assembled in Seattle this week included the rock stars of the industry and I was proud to be among them.

-Lisa

Bee Happy

We all know that bees are critical to our garden’s health—and we all know how delicious and healthy local honey is.  But getting the bees to thrive and the honey to flow isn’t just about willing it to happen and it’s not so straightforward. 

Our success at Rainbeau Ridge over the years has ebbed and flowed—some a function of nature and weather and some due to better and worse beekeeping skills and attention.  DJ Haverkamp has come to our aide and has really stepped up this year.  DJ is an accomplished apiarist, or beekeeper, among other talents, and has the patience and teaching skills to train willing students.  (You can find him at djhonline@earthlink.net or through www.bedfordbee.com.)

Along with our team member Kelly, DJ has been responsible for pulling our existing hive through the winter, launching 3 new hives (packages) and hatching out our own queens to create two more hives (that was absolutely amazing).  For the first time in two years we have bees and honey worth talking about!

With Kelly’s upcoming departure, we had to figure out who was going to step up to the beekeeper’s job.  Lots of interest, but commitment and time would be the limiting factor for most people.  Talking this over with Karen, I saw her eyes light up.  She has become fascinated with the bees, their value to the farm, their beauty, their sophisticated communication, and the harmonic cadence.  We turned to each other and said, “I’ll do it if you’ll do it!” 

So it was settled.  Loving the output but knowing little about the job, neither of us was really sure we’d be up to the task.

We have a new set of skills to learn.  And we can’t go it alone, but with DJ’s assistance, lots of reading and strong wills, we are certain to make a best efforts basis. 

Besides, what did I know about goats and cheese before I had the chutzpah eight years ago to “Just do it”…?

-Lisa

The Ties that Bind Us

The ties that bind us are sometimes impossible to explain. They connect us even after it seems like the ties should be broken. Some bonds defy distance and time and logic; Because some ties are simply... meant to be.
 Grey’s Anatomy closing line episode 508

Much as I hate needing my car to get just about everywhere around here, I love a long, solitary drive.  For me it’s think time. 

Today I was thinking about ‘ties that bind us’ when I heard Neil Diamond singing Sweet Caroline at the Red Sox game, broadcast on the music station I was listening to.  Not being a Diamond fan (no goats named in his honor!) nor a fan of the song, I found myself sporting a big, goofy smile as I listened to his rendition, voice scratchy with age and cigarettes(?), as the fans chimed in with the oh oh oh and “so good, so good” chants. For a few minutes, people of all persuasions came together for the silliest of songs, the connection to the game completely escapes me- but who cares—they’re having fun, all smiles and part of a community.  In fact being amongst fans at a baseball game (assuming you have no interlopers from the opposing team) may be one of the few places these days where people enjoy being with others, regardless of politics, views on climate change or healthcare or anything else that matters.

Another rare venue that celebrates community is at Rainbeau Ridge on CAP pick up day—where our members come to shop for their weekly produce, eggs, cheese and other goodies.  In this case, the ties that bind are more obvious.  Some are confirmed locavores, others are just trying to find a way to connect to their food—the core of all who come to the farm share common ties of joy and interest in fresh and delicious food-- and it is palpable.  The enthusiasm of each and every visitor feeds my soul—their happiness in being a part of CAP, the shopping and farm experience, meeting of neighbors and greeting new friends as connections are made, recipes traded—it’s such good ol’ fashioned community and I’m delighted and energized by what has emerged.

Here’s what some have had to say—thanks for the feedback—it keeps us working harder for you!

Thanks for the bounty and the beginning of the growing season!

I will not be in Bedford this summer - but want to thank you for one of the nicest experiences ever - what you are doing is one of the things that make living in Bedford a true joy - Here's to a bountiful harvest

As a new member of your CAP, I love being a part of this family.  My own family enjoyed the fruits of your labor - and for that we are grateful.  I can't wait for all of the delicious surprises as I arrive on Friday mornings to see what goodies are there to select.

Thank you!  We are so grateful to Rainbeau Ridge for the bounty of yummy produce and eggs that we got all summer/fall -- it's wonderful to be able to eat local and know the people growing your food!!  Can't wait to see you in the spring.

Wishing you meaningful ties.

-Lisa

While we're on the subject of seasonal . . .

We spend so much of our lives living in the future; how about savoring the present? How can we expect people to eat seasonally when we are being bamboozled and confused about just what season we're in?

I had a rare occasion to go off farm and into the Big City a couple of times over the last few weeks. I was amazed to walk famed the Fifth Avenue in late October before Halloween, only to be confronted by store windows teeming with Christmas décor.

For years, we've counted on merchandising to chase us out of one season into the next but not by months!  Yes, candy was barely consumed on Halloween and you could expect to see pilgrim hats and turkeys in the store windows the next morning.  Friday post-turkey day, you could be sure to see the twinkling lights in department stores, helping to set the tone for the ensuing shopping frenzy.  When the winter solstice was barely behind us and days started getting longer again, we'd still be in the throes of winter but  the pink hearts for Valentine's Day would greet us.  Now-a-days, seasonal markers have sped up exponentially.

As we enjoy the bounty of this holiday's feasts, let's slow down and notice the beauty of this shoulder season: family at the table, soft grey woods, Brussels sprouts on the stalk and the smell of wood smoke.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

-Lisa

Doughnut Disconnect

Seasonality is the mantra for many of us who care deeply about both the health benefits and enjoyment of our food.  Eating close to home ensures us that we’ll most likely be eating in season, enjoying the delights of the moment and getting the most nutrient dense versions of those foods.

Then along comes Corporate America—jumping on the literal and figurative band wagon.  The scene opens with a farmer and his guests loading up on a hay wagon about to enjoy the sights, smells and tastes of autumn, then the scene cuts to the parking lot of a Dunkin’ Donuts, where they disembark to enjoy pumpkin lattes and orange frosted donuts.  Those guys certainly know a buzz word when they see one. 

Argghhhh. I understand their need to sell doughnuts, but are we really buying?  Yes, I’ve blogged jokingly about Mallomars as a seasonal product, but autumn is almost the best time of year to slow down, connect with the sources and pleasures of food and enjoy the moment. We get a sensational burst of produce from the garden and orchard, which fills our soup pots and pie plates with amazing delights and reminds us that winter is close at hand. We are reminded to preserve what we can for later, as well as savor what we can now. 

If you want to celebrate the season with doughnuts, go to the few remaining local orchards for the cinnamon ones they make on the premises and buy some tart apples too. Then make a place also for dishes you associate with the season, truly seasonal food. How about deep orange squash, mellow onions, earthy mushrooms and sweet pears?

-Lisa

They're Baaaack . . .

I saw that display of big yellow boxes in the supermarket the other day. It’s Mallomar season. Can I count them as “local and seasonal”? After all, they were for sale in my local market.  They only appear this time of year when the dark chocolate shell won’t melt off the marshmallow and cookie base. Of course I never have that problem anyway because I’ve emptied the package before I even get the groceries out of my car.  Giving in to that puffy, chocolate-covered temptation is one of my periodic “secret” indulgences.

I’m not a purist who longs for a strictly local, unadulterated food past.  I’m not looking to live without citrus, olive oil or coffee and certainly not without chocolate. I just want to eat well by grounding my eating in the rhythm of the year and the bounty of the land around me.   On the farm, we try to remind people, especially children, where food comes from, how it grows and how it nourishes us. We are not all-or-nothing, even when it comes to enjoying Mallomars, imported anchovies or even a few berries out of season. That incremental approach and acceptance pervade all the farm’s programs and, I think, help the programs work.

-Lisa