Rainbeau Ridge Weblog

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

Small Changes

Recently, at a luncheon benefiting Sloane Hospital for Women, Dr. Lori Mosca told us that a reduction of just 2% in risk factors for heart disease could save 350,000 lives every year worldwide. Her point was that incremental changes, small steps, start to add up. That’s been my mantra from the start about re-balancing our lives towards greater sustainability, including eating better food. 

Dr. Mosca reported also that small changes in your personal routine - 200 fewer calories a day or 30 minutes of exercise - can result in sure, steadily improved heart health.  

I see this theme everywhere. Changing light bulbs may not solve the energy problem but if we don’t change them, we aren’t taking that first step in the right direction.  

Local eating can begin this way too with just ten percent local sourcing in a school cafeteria or a chain restaurant. This can act as a sign of changing values to families, communities and even to industry. It may be challenging but a first step can lead to both a new personal habit and eventually to building a new food infrastructure.  

In similar ways, one vote alone may not seem to have much impact but many changed votes changed the direction of the nation. Tiny non-profits, born from one person’s frustration or experience, can touch many people and set the ball of change rolling. You have to start somewhere. The business world thinks in broad, global, scalable terms—but a one step, a starting point, has its merits and the potential for far-reaching impact too. Make small changes, as Dr. Mosca suggested. No matter how small, they are important for a better you and a better world.

Cuke & Zuke

No, not our barn cats!  It was a cucumber and a zucchini that Isaac presented me with today—the first of the garden (and one of the occasional privileges of being the boss).

We are hitting our stride—summer is here (notwithstanding that the sun and temperature belie this).  With a little steadier pace and a little less hectic daily activity, I’ve shunned my poor, ‘grab a carb on the go’ eating habit and returned to what I love—foraging the garden for my dinner. 

The cuke and dill salad and the sautéed zucchini with garlic scapes were the perfect accompaniments to my fresh fish dinner.  It wasn’t recipe directed or grocery list driven—it happened because that’s what was garden ready.  I love improvising each night.  Many times that will include a piece of cheese that I rescued from the cheese house refrigerator.

It is truly a privilege to eat the fruits of our collective labor.  Sometimes people take our ability to grow for granted—but most (CAP members) are as awed by it all as I am—the magnificent spirals of the Romanesco broccoli, iridescent red and green color of the radicchio, the sensational taste of the roasted turnips and the delicate flavor of the golden (not old!) snap peas jazz me like you can’t believe.

Eating ‘local’ these days is hardly a challenge as we head into the peak growing period—My advice is to slow down, savor the ingredients and be sure to squirrel some away for winter!

-Lisa

Reading the Tea Leaves . . .

It was Friday night of Thanksgiving week.  I had returned to the farm late that night to check on animals, cheese and when I walked out of the farmhouse, closed the lights and locked the door, I marveled at the clean crisp air and the sky filled with stars.

Drinking in the wonder of the evening sky, I was thinking back on two days of family, friends and food, having my children at home, reflecting on the successful 2008 farm season, how it was coming to an end and I was filled with a quiet contentment.

Upon returning home, it seemed that a cup of tea was a fitting way to savor the moment and hold on to those reflections a little longer.  It would turn out to be a tragic mistake.  I upended that simple cup of tea into my lap and managed to inflict second degree burns on both legs as well as my tummy.  A trip to the local ER was necessary and where despite great treatment, I was in severe pain until the early hours of the morning.  It would be a full ten days later before I was functioning at almost full throttle with minimal pain with some assurance that a skin graft wouldn’t be necessary.

How quickly that contentment vaporized, replaced by pain!  But it didn’t take long either to restore my balance and replace the self-pity with thankfulness, knowing that the injury was just that and not life threatening.  It was perhaps more shocking to realize how stressed my body was and how it would be taxed by the task of healing, zapping my strength from the simplest tasks of each day, forcing me to slow down, settling for accomplishing but a few items daily.

We all have setbacks.  It’s the question of what we choose to do about them.  Sometimes they’re a matter of health, sometimes a business or personal challenge—a failed exam or a rejected business deal, a burn or serious illness.  How large or small is all relative—to our age, experience base, and attitude. 

And if we’ve ‘been there, done that’, it rarely helps the next guy as we each have to endure the situation and deal with it for ourselves.  How many times are we given advice—albeit well-intended by others—heard countless personal tales of how others made it through similar circumstances?  Too often those pearls fall on deaf ears as the current victims just have to travel the path for themselves.

In its own way, the farm presents a continuous set of challenges—animal health (some life threatening), livestock decisions, crop failures, staffing, relentless hours, financial pressures.   There are moments when I question the wisdom of moving forward.  But then I reflect on a quote my son sent to me recently from Winston Churchill. I have posted that quote along with one from Helen Keller as two reminders of inspiration and attitude.

“Success is not final; Failure is not fatal.  It is the strength to go on that really counts.”
 – WC

“When one door closes, another door opens.” – HK

I hope I’m smart enough to follow those words, whether the challenge is large or small.  For now, I think I’ll just have a second cup of tea.

It Started and Ended with Rainbeaus!

Our early arriving Fall Fest guests included genuine Rainbeau’s!  (Yes the name is a family one).  Despite the dreary sky, close to 300 people passed through the gate at the farm to celebrate Fall. 
 
Neighbors, family, old friends from overseas, workplace colleagues, CAP members and people who have found us through the local media  (whose support we appreciate!), participated in seasonal craft projects, cheered on the hens and goats in their respective races, and enjoyed great music. 
 
Setting the background mood were the fabulous American Flyer Bluegrass Band, Rachel Laitman (playing acoustical guitar) and of course, Lyon’s Rock.  Acorns sloshed around in paint as beautiful art was created by the very young.  For those that love glue, sand art pictures of the farm were a lot of fun!  Families learned about our honey bees from Deb and enjoyed rolling their own beeswax candles. 
 
And what would a trip to the farm be without a visit with all our animals?  With Snooper providing the power, children were toted around on horseback with Mindy cheerfully leading the way.  Others enjoyed nominating names for the 2008 spring kids who have remained here at the farm and will become milkers next spring.  Ron & Max treated the crowd to hen races while onlookers ‘bet’ on the winners.  Ron & Bob, assisted by guests, tempted our goats to follow the grain in order to get them across the finish line.   (food always worked for me!)
 
Delicious cider, donuts, delectable baked goods from Red Barn Bakery, succulent preserves from Margie & Chuck.   The cheerful ladies from the NYU Herb Society were full of information, demystifying herbs for those who took advantage.
 
Our core of volunteers and staff, too numerous to count were fabulous and their help was greatly appreciated.  And it truly was a family affair—with Karen & Lisa at the helm, The Sabath boys playing music, Poppa & Laura manning the gate with Diane, Scott and Amy running the boutique, Liz & Andrew checking in, we are lucky to have such good-natured and helpful family.
 
The last of the sprinkles passed overhead and as the final visitors left, the tables and supplies packed away for another year, a rainbow appeared in the sky over the farm—I’d say that confirmed the day’s success, wouldn’t you?

-Lisa

The Cheese Conference

No sooner had I touched down from our Arctic adventure than I was off to Chi-town— the setting for the 25th American Cheese Society’s annual meeting.  Now for most people this is a non-starter but for me it’s the opposite—a jump start for my battery just about the time the mid-summer self-doubt kicks in. 

Reinvigorating
Working hard to keep milk quality high, managing the highly variable demand from customers, dealing with doubled feed cost and coping with the time required to be vertically integrated from milk to marketing are generally challenges that I thrive on, but by mid-summer, the kinks in the system have a way of getting me down.

But to be in a ballroom full of 800 people connected to cheesemaking is quite a kick.  To meet the ‘legends’ gets me jazzed.  To see familiar faces is a lot of fun.  To not stand out as a “what? A cheesemaker?” is comforting.

A few days of professional development and networking are invigorating.  Tonight’s program was ‘meet the cheesemaker’ and I worked the room to hunt out goat cheeses and their makers—I ran into a woman I went to a Cal Poly class with three years ago who is really making some wonderful cheese.  Some ‘old-timers’ are making some so-so cheese—and there are a handful of some really innovative cheese ideas that I found stimulating.

With the milk season about half over, I am happy to have gained a renewed view of how to approach the whole process with an idea of increased quality, improvements and innovation.  I’m already thinking about how I’ll do things next year—a big improvement over the melancholy thoughts I’ve been fighting off as recent batches of cheese randomly failed and cheese house staffing is in flux.

Soul Mate
My favorite conference attendee is Ricki Carrol of New England Cheesemaking.  It was Ricki’s Ashfield, MA workshop that I first sought out in March of 2002 before I picked up my first two milking does.  Her simple but complete intro to cheesemaking was a huge boost  to my book learning as I set my sights on becoming a cheesemaker (I highly recommend this to any food enthusiast). 

But it was more than the ABC’s of cheese—Ricki is the real deal, a cheesemaking soul mate who values the food ideals that led me to this in the first place.  Hearing her reminisce as a panelist during the conference’s opening session on “looking back” made me realize that the values then are still our values today—the difference may be that notions of ‘sustainability’, ‘knowing where your food comes from’ and ‘community’ are now more mainstream than belonging only to those who drop out.

Not Just the Big Producers
I don’t ask or take a lot from the ACS during the year but after seeing the retrospective film, I was humbled by the history and roots of the organization and appreciated being a member of this organization.  On the one hand it’s only 25 years old—just a babe in the scheme of things, but seemingly different today than at its origin with membership shifting to  a heavy ‘trade’ presence and large scale producers—maybe necessary for funding. On the other hand, there continues to be an influx of new, young cheesemakers which is encouraging.

Times change but stories resonate.  As cheesemakers share their stories of starting up 10 and 20 years ago, their tales of passion, persistence and poverty bring a smile to those who have followed in their shoes.  Thanks to those pioneers and early patrons, the path has been paved for many of us—with palettes and markets more receptive to new entries.  I had to laugh though as Alisson Hooper (VT Butter & Cheese) started her business with less money than the conference cost us to attend!

I took a well-deserved break after the evening session to walk the shoreline of Chicago, visit Millennium Park, enjoy the outdoor music and dance scene and slip into the Art Institute to pay tribute to American Gothic and other famous works before turning in.

The Competition’s Surprise
Day two was filled with more networking and breakout sessions.  I began to feel like I had my fill and should be heading home but changing my ticket was not an option.  So I stayed to listen to the awards from the judging and competition.  I learned that over 1100 individual entries from 181 members were competing in the various categories.  Points were awarded to each entry and 1st through 3rd prizes were point driven not comparative.  So it was possible to have multiple winners for any level and to have no awards given if it was not merited.  It quickly became clear that the large scale producers dominated the entries and the awards.  I was pleased to see some (newcomer) peers take awards.

Imagine my surprise when I heard Rainbeau Ridge called in a fresh goat cheese category!  I had one of those dream-like moments—‘did I really hear my name called?  what if it wasn’t and I’m halfway down the aisle?’  But it WAS real and it felt a whole lot cooler than I thought it would!  We had won an award for Meridien (click to read)! 

To be judged by the panel of experts on technical and aesthetic merits was somewhat intimidating—I’m looking forward to the detailed evaluations to help shape the future direction of our cheeses.  More importantly, I share the kudos with everyone on my team who helps care for our goats and milks our herd and helps in the cheese house.  And to my family, friends and customers who supported us through these early trials, in the absence of any award, it was these folks who made the effort worthwhile.

I’ve packed my bags and I’m ready to go.  Been away from the farm and cheese house for too long and am anxious to get back and get my hands dirty (so to speak).  I hope I can translate the lessons learned into better product and drive the reputation of Rainbeau Ridge even further.

Food Memories

There are a zillion reasons why I love food…but a very important motive is for all the memories that cooking and eating trigger.

For me, Thanksgiving is one big eating marathon.  Growing up, it was generally a holiday that involved seeing relatives whom I would only see annually.  Once past the obligatory jokes, cheek pinching and coat checking, the day was pretty boring.  Except—the food was fantastic—and the food rules (or lack thereof) were the best.  Shirley Temples, chopped liver, little hot dogs, nuts in the shell, olive trays—ok, not very Thanksgiving-ish—were my favorites.   I had to pass on the deviled eggs but they had their place on the hors d’oeuvres platter year after year.  We could stuff ourselves silly and not have to make excuses for why we weren’t eating the main course but managed to have room for dessert.  We even got to watch television—the parade of course—while eating.

As I stood in my kitchen today, preparing for family and friends, I moved quickly from one dish to the next, multi-tasking—cleaning, prepping, chopping, sautéing, frying—one after another, memories popped into my head.  Sometimes there was a direct connection, others seemed more remote.

The chopped liver and pigs in a blanket have been replaced by goat cheese and other contemporary foods. My menu is eclectic—not really traditional dishes but certainly traditional ingredients, made with a twist.  You will not find green beans, sweet potatoes sporting pineapple or marshmallows and I shy away from everything pureed (until dentures become a reality).  And of course, there are my kids’ favorites, regardless of whether they qualify for Turkey Day fare.

So as I made the ‘zippy tuna’, I was transported back to when my aunt & uncle would make this signature appetizer when we visited.  We couldn’t hold a family event without it and have adapted it somewhat to make it our own.  All my daughter has to do is say she’s coming home and zippy tuna appears on the menu.  Needless to say, I picked up the cell phone while prepping this and called her.  “do we use onions in our version?”— “No mom, but why not give it a shot.”   Didn’t matter what the answer was—just an excuse to connect.

The corn fritters, a new concoction and added to the hors d’oeuvres list as a nod to the ‘three sister medley’ reminded me of making latkes!  That triggered a quick call to my friend Lesley with whom I always share a knuckle grating story or two.

It was on to the wild rice dish, for our good friend and gluten free guest, Andre.  It happens to be an old Silver Palate recipe that was a notable favorite of my mother’s—unfortunately her untimely death just following Thanksgiving has made this food fav somewhat bittersweet.

By dinner time the day before Thanksgiving, (normally a no cook zone but a must cook because both kids were going to be home together for the first time in ages), I was whipping up their favorite Japanese meal.  As I ‘polished’ the sushi rice, I thought of my dear friend Kyoko and how much she taught me about Japanese cooking—not to mention her awesome meals.

By early afternoon on Thursday, the smells of roasting turkey mixed with freshly baked desserts wafted through the house.  Although some important people were not able to be with us, I was nevertheless floating above the scene, mulling over Thanksgivings past and contemplating those yet to come.  Free flowing associations of food , friends and family continued until the last dish was served—in fact until the last leftover was consumed. 

Adding to the personal side are Rainbeau Ridge’s cooking classes, I’m happy to report that we’re creating new food memories at the farm for our friends too.  My favorite these days has got to be the reports from our young cooks—kids in grades 4-6—making chutneys, pumpkin fudge and apple bread pudding at home for their families.  I couldn’t be happier that these young people are actively involved in the holiday food prep and with what will ultimately be recollections of their early cooking careers.

From now until New Year’s, there will undoubtedly be tons more culinary efforts that will be filed away in the family scrapbooks—whether we’re a piece of it our not, just knowing that food is such an important piece of our collective memories—makes me smile to be in small some way a piece of the ‘pie’.

Eggscellent!

Front page New York Times news today—“Cage free chickens produce better eggs”…It would have been more accurate to print—‘free range organic birds produce the best eggs’.

I had to laugh when I saw the accompanying picture to the article—massive quantities of birds, beak to beak, albeit no cages.  The caption should have read “Times Square at New Year’s Eve or jail cells—you pick the more desirable way to live…” There was nothing appealing about the conditions of cage free birds in such mass quantities which, at the end of the day, spend all their time in crowded confinement.

Whether you look at this from an animal rights standpoint or from an egg quality one, you come up short.

I was proud today when we served breakfast on the farm to 45 guests who were here for a family overnight (stay tuned for another blog).  We scrambled (or should I day Karen scrambled) up all the eggs we had from our hens.  Because we anticipated some hardy appetites, we bought extra organic eggs from a large, commercial producer.  There was simply no comparison—our eggs were head and shoulders above the others.  The commercial producer’s eggs may be better than say really crappy store bought eggs…but they didn’t hold a candle to ours! 

The color of ours was so deep, so much richer.  And the eggs had ‘taste’ – imagine that—even the kids picked up on the differences.  I’ve never invested the several hundred dollars required to test the nutritional value of my eggs but I’d wager a lot that they’d finish well in that race too.  (Click on the picture to see a larger version.)

Our chickens are confined part of their day to a coop and yard—both of which are sizable.  But then at mid-day, when most of the eggs have been laid in nesting boxes, we allow the girls to have the run of the farm.  The partial confinement helps us from having to conduct an Easter egg hunt 365 days a year…We’re able to collect the eggs promptly, clean and refrigerate them.  By confining the hens for their first 6 months, they learn where  “home” is—where we feed and water them.  After that, they’re allowed to range and we have reasonable certainty that they’ll be back by dusk.  Ranging around the farm allows the chickens to supplement their diet and apparently they do it better than we even feed them.

So while we’ll never produce the volume required by national chains, restaurants and food stores, what we do produce is such a superior quality.   If more people would choose to keep a small flock to feed their families and neighbors, the pleasure of eating farm fresh eggs could be available to so many more.

It would clearly be an enhanced eating experience and I bet a healthier one too.  Some food for thought this winter—there’s plenty of time to start a flock in the spring!

-Lisa