Clear Brook Farm CSA Week #5

I got my weekly e-mail from Clear Brook Farm announcing the contents of this week’s farm share (drum roll, please): broccoli, rainbow carrots, regular carrots, gilfeather turnip, broccoli leaf (raab), garlic, onions, arugula and cabbage.

I was psyched to see that we’re going to get so many carrots in this week’s share. I was hoping we’d get carrots so that I could make Alice’s awesome carrot ginger soup. I haven’t made it yet this fall. Since I still have about two pounds of carrots leftover from week three, I plan to make a double batch of the soup and freeze a bunch of it.

I don’t like broccoli raab, so I’ll probably replace it with a second head of arugula. That way I can use one head in a salad (or I can wilt it) and make pesto from another head. If there’s something in our farm share that we really don’t want, Clear Brook Farm lets us swap it out for something else, which is awesome.

Clear Brook Farm CSA Week 3

Eric and I signed up for Clear Brook Farm’s 10-week winter CSA again this year, and we’re heading into week three of our farm share. 

Every Wednesday, Clear Brook Farm sends an e-mail to all CSA members listing everything they’ll get in their share that week.  It’s a courteous gesture designed to help us plan our meals–and the rest of our grocery lists–for the following week.  I’m sure it’s also intended to generate excitement for that week’s share. I know I look forward to receiving these newsletters in my inbox every week and to finding out what awesome organic veggies I’ll get to cook with. 

This year, Clear Brook Farm’s newsletters contain recipes for some of the produce in each week’s share.  I’m glad they’re doing this because last year I really didn’t know what to do with some of the veggies I had never heard of, such as romanesco and celeriac, and I never made the time to search for recipes for those items online.  This week’s newsletter contains recipes for roasted root vegetables, celeriac root bisque, beet and celeriac salad, and sweet and sour carrots.  As you might have guessed from those recipes, this weeks’ share contains celeriac and carrots, in addition to butternut squash, fennel, spinach, brocoli, lettuce, scallions and onions. 

I saved two carrots from the first week’s farm share, so I think I’ll make my favorite carrot ginger soup–the recipe comes courtesy of The Silver Palate cookbook via my friend Alice Stokes.  Maybe I’ll try that celeriac root bisque, too.  The recipe didn’t excite me at first, but it did elicit a Homer Simpson-esque “oooh!” from Eric.  (What the heck else am I going to do with celeriac?) I’ll definitely make roasted root vegetables, too. 

What would you make with this week’s farm share?

Local Eggs

My neighbors, the Grouts, raise chickens.  A few weeks ago, they placed a sign in their front yard advertising, “Fresh Eggs. $2.50/doz.” I told Eric that the next time we need to buy eggs, we should purchase them from the Grouts. He agreed. “Doesn’t get more local than that,” he said.

No, it doesn’t.

So we’re down to three eggs in our fridge. Not nearly enough to feed Eric, his friend Dave, and his brother-in-law Gary, who are both here to fish and turkey hunt.  So I went to the Grouts’ this evening, handed over $2.50, and got a dozen eggs.  Alden said they’d taste like no other egg I’d ever had. His son Max warned me that the eggs might look more orange than the pasteurized eggs sold in the grocery story.

I can’t wait to have one for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll think I’ll fry it, with bacon.

Update on the Clear Brook Farm CSA

When I went to Clear Brook Farm on my lunch break on Thursday, I asked about my status on the farm’s waiting list for a share in its CSA.  Good thing I did because Clear Brook had space for me.  I am now officially off the waiting list and a winter shareholder!  I forked over 300 bucks (thank g-d I had gotten paid the day before), and the deal was done.  I look forward to awesome Clear Brook veggies from mid-October through mid-December.  It’ll be so great to just pick up my bag of veggies on the weekend and not have to pay a dime since I already paid for my share.

Clear Brook Farm CSA

Clear Brook Farm, my local organic farm stand in Shaftsbury, Vermont, is making its first foray into community supported agriculture (CSA) this fall. Andrew Knafel, Clear Book’s founder and head farmer dude, told me that he decided to offer the CSA this year so that he could keep some of his farm hands on his payroll into the winter.  The farm shares Clear Brook is offering run for 10 weeks, from roughly mid-October (when Clear Brook Farm normally closes–always a very sad day for me) through mid-December.  I’m on a waiting list for a farm share. I hope I make the cut!

Clear Brook Farm is offering two different kinds of shares.  The basic offering (yours for $300) consists of veggies Clear Brook can grow in its greenhouse along with hardier winter stuff, like potatoes.  The gourmand offering (as I like to call it) consists of Clear Brook’s produce as well as veggies from other local farms, along with local cheeses, breads and when available, meats. The gourmand offering costs $500.

I would have liked to have signed up for the gourmand offering (mmmm…local cheese…mmmm), but at roughly $50 a week, it’s more than I can afford. So I opted for the basic, proletariat offering.  As it is, I spend an average of $25 to $30 a week at Clear Brook on fruit and veggies (the tab runs closer to $40 when I buy bacon, smoked turkey, mozzarella cheese and hummus) so I don’t feel like I’m getting cheated by spending $30 a week for a share. Plus, I have a feeling I’ll get way more veggies in my weekly farm share than I’d get buying stuff on my own.  I told Eric that he’s going to have to start eating his vegetables.  (He doesn’t eat kale and collard greens the way I do.)

I hope I can get in on a share. Clear Brook offered 100 shares this year, and I hear they got snatched up pretty fast. I hope the CSA program goes well for them so that they can offer it again next year.

Chicken from Two Spoon Farm

On Sunday, when I was shopping at Clear Brook Farm, I purchased two whole, organic, free range chickens raised on Two Spoon Farm in Pownal, Vermont. I was delighted to learn that I could purchase locally raised, organic chicken at Clear Brook, which is going to be carrying chickens from Two Spoon Farm throughout the season. It seems Clear Brook Farm is carrying a lot more local meat this year than previous years.

The chickens weighed in at about five pounds a piece, though they looked bigger, and they cost $4 a pound. I paid $40 for two chickens, which to my cheapskate mind is a staggering amount of money to spend on poultry. Talk about golden eggs…

Two Spoon Farm Chicken

The upside of spending all this money is that Eric and I got three full meals out of one bird, and we’re supporting a Vermont farm. And that, my friends, is worth the money (and also the reason why I no longer buy designer jeans).

Eric hacked the chicken into eight pieces (we don’t own poultry shears, but since we will be buying more Two Spoon Farm whole chickens we will invest in a pair), and generously seasoned the parts with salt and pepper and then grilled them to perfection. The thick skin was as crisp as a Ruffles potato chip, and the meat was juicy and tender and tasted like it had been poached in matzo ball soup. It was geschmecht (that’s Yiddish for lip-smacking good). Two Spoon Farm chickens are raised on organic grains and whatever other tasty treats they peck at in the pasture.

There was a lot of meat on the chicken. Eric, looking at the plate of chicken on the dinner table exclaimed, “Look at the size of those breasts! They’re double Ds!”

Grilled Salt & Pepper Chicken

Two Spoon Farm also raises organic beef, pork, lamb and turkey and is offering shares to interested consumers. The turkeys, which are fed organic grains, cost $3.25/lb and weigh approximately 18 lbs, which is a good-sized bird. Grass-finished beef is $6.00/lb. for 100 lbs (a full share) or $6.50/lb. for a half share (50 lbs.) and comes butchered in a variety of different cuts (steaks, roasts, ground beef, stew meat, etc.) A share of pork, which like the turkey is raised on organic grains, consists of chops, ribs, smoked bacon, sausage, and for those who ask, ham. Pork costs $6.00/lb. and you get about 40 lbs. Grass-fed lamb sells for $7.50 lb. and a share provides roughly 20 lbs.

A $100 deposit is required to purchase a share in Two Spoon Farm. Then, 50 percent of your balance is due by August 1. You make your final payment when you pick up your farm share.

I’d really like to buy half a beef share for $325 and a pork share for $240, but Eric and I first need to iron out some logistics. We have to figure out if we have room for a chest freezer somewhere in our house, and if we have enough electrical juice to run it (we’re still running knob and tube wiring in our house).

Why Buy the Cow…Shaftsbury, Vermont Couple Explain the Ins-and-Outs of Buying Cows for the Beef

Shaftsbury, VT — When Scott and Erin McEnaney decided to buy their first cow from a local friend in October 2006, they weren’t motivated by a desire to get closer to the source of their food. They simply wanted to help a friend who had a cow he needed to slaughter.

In return for going in on the cost of butchering the cow with their friend, the McEnaneys, who live in Shaftsbury, received a veritable beef bounty: close to 100 pounds of hamburger, ribeyes, T-bones, roasts, stew meat and filet mignon—all for a price of less than $3 per pound.

“I remember biting into the steak for the first time, and it was like nothing I had ever eaten before,” says Erin, 29. “It was like butter. It really melted in your mouth.”

Indeed, it was love at first bite.

The McEnaneys are representative of a small but growing group of food consumers increasingly turning away from supermarkets in favor of local farms for meats, dairy products and produce. The McEnaneys and their ilk are members of the localvore movement that is sweeping the United States as rising commodities prices drive up the cost to produce and distribute food and as Americans grow wary of agribusiness thanks in part to books like Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma and Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.

According to a survey conducted by market researcher NPD Group, 61 percent of consumers report being concerned about the hormones and antiobiotics industrial farmers give to animals. Consequently, 43 percent of consumers have incorporated locally grown foods into their daily lives. The market for locally grown foods reportedly reached $5 billion in 2007, according to market research firm Packaged Facts. Packaged Facts expects the local foods market to grow to $7 billion in 2011.

Though the McEnaney’s decision to purchase their first quarter of a cow wasn’t influenced by any ideology, the couple, who both work for Orvis, has become more aware of the potential health benefits associated with consuming meat that hasn’t been tainted by hormones and antiobiotics as well as the importance of supporting local farmers. This awareness has motivated them to continue to participate with friends in the purchase cows for their beef. In 2007, the McEnaneys went in with a group of friends on a second cow raised on a farm five miles from their house. The got a quarter of the meat from that cow. They plan to pick up and pay for their third quarter of a cow from the same farm, Saga Morgans in Shaftsbury, later this fall.

“I’m more surprised that I ate store bought beef, hockey puck steaks for the majority of my life,” says Erin, who, at five feet four inches tall and zero percent body fat looks like she eats lots more salad than steak. “Now it’s like, holy crap, why did I wait so long to do this.”

Adds Scott, “Anyone who ever does this doesn’t want to go back to getting grocery store beef. If you have the money to do the initial outlay, it’s a great way to go.”

The McEnaneys are a font of information about buying cows from local farmers. Here, they share their advice and lessons learned on buying cows for the beef.

The Challenge of Buying Local Beef: No Viable Business Model

Since I started this blog in April, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to buying beef from a local farm. Clearly, it’s something I want to do. Supporting Vermont farms is critical to the state’s economy and to its future.

Unfortunately, I’m realizing that buying local beef isn’t easy, at least not down here in the southwestern part of Vermont. Consider my beef buying options:

Option 1: Drive approximately 30 miles to the Merck Forest in Rupert, Vermont.

The Pros:

I can purchase individual cuts of meat on an as needed basis.

The Cons:

a. I have to drive close to 60 miles round trip to get this meat.

b. The meat is frozen.

Wildcards:

a. I have no idea if this meat is expensive.

b. I don’t know what the cows eat. I do know that the meat is not certified organic, but the fact that it’s not doesn’t matter so much to me.

Option 2: With a group of friends, purchase a cow from a farm in Shaftsbury, Vermont.

The Pros:

a. Shaftsbury is a hop-skip-and-a-jump from my home in Arlington.

b. The net price of the beef is cheap. Friends tell me that the meat winds up costing around $4 per pound.

c. The cows are grass-, not corn, fed. Thus, I don’t have to feel guilty about supporting the corn-industrial-complex.

d. I’ll get a ton of meat. (This is also a con. See below.)

e. I’ll get to the know the farmers who raise the cows.

The Cons:

a. I’m responsible for getting the meat butchered, and finding a reliable butcher nearby is not always easy.

b. Since I’ll be getting so much meat, I’ll have to freeze most of it.

c. I won’t have room for anything except this meat in my freezer. Thus, I may have to buy a small, standalone freezer to store this meat, and I have no idea what that will cost.

Wildcard:

Coordinating with a group of people could be a pain.

I’m finding that the problem with buying local beef is the lack of a viable business model that serves both the farmers who raise the beef and end consumers.

The direct-to-consumer model that I describe above in option 2 puts too much onus on the consumer for that model to be viable. The practice of buying local beef will never penetrate the mainstream if consumers have to find a butcher for the meat, figure out a way to transport a side of a cow from the farmer to the butcher, and then have to buy an extra freezer to store all the meat. I realize buying local forces liberal do-gooders like myself to act in alignment with our ideologies, but I’m sorry: Asking average consumers to jump through all of those hoops is absurd. And for the Buy Local movement to become something more than a bumper sticker slogan and passing food fad, it’s got to penetrate mainstream consumers. We’ve got to find a viable and realistic way to get fresh, local meat on Vermonter’s kitchen tables.

In upcoming posts, I will talk with friends about their experience purchasing a cow from a local farm. I’ll also explore different options for getting local meat to consumers. In the meantime, I’m interested in hearing about your experiences buying local meat, whether you live in Vermont or Virginia, and what you see as the barriers preventing the Buy Local movement from really going mainstream.

Where’s the (local) beef?

A few weeks ago, I visited the website for the Vermont chapter of the Northeast Organic Farming Association (NOFA Vermont) in search of leads on local beef farms. The site provided a list of 24 “certified organic Beef farmers/producers in Vermont.”

The first few farms on the list—Auger Heights, Back Beyond Farm and Brotherly Farm—were too far away, either in the Northeast Kingdom or Orange County. But Crow Hill Farm in Tinmouth didn’t appear to be too much of a stretch when I located the town in Rutland county on my map. (Rutland is about a 50 minute drive from my home in Arlington.)

I called Crow Hill Farm, which is operated by Caleb and Louise Scott, a few weeks ago, and left a message on their answering machine. I said that I got the name and phone number for the farm on NOFA’s website. I said that my husband and I were looking to buy beef from a Vermont farm. I asked if Crow Hill farm did in fact sell beef to individual customers. I left my name and my phone number for someone to call back.

I never heard from anyone.

On Friday, April 11, I tried calling Crow Hill Farm a second time. This time, Caleb Scott answered the phone. Again, I explained that I got the name of his farm from NOFA Vermont’s website, that my husband and I were looking to buy beef from a Vermont farm, and asked if Crow Hill Farm sold beef to individual customers. Mr. Scott explained that he hadn’t sold beef since the slaughterhouse burned down. I told him I was sorry to hear that. He said, “I’m sorry to hear it, too.”

I was beginning to think that finding Vermont beef was going to be easier for all the wealthy Manhattanites shopping at the Union Square Farmer’s Market than it was going to be for me.

I returned to the list of Vermont beef farmers on NOFA’s website and found one in Rupert, which is even closer to me than Tinmouth: Merck Forest & Farmland Center. I dialed the number and found out that Merck Forest did sell beef that was raised at the Farmland Center. It was frozen, and I could buy it—along with pork and lamb—at the retail store. Linda, the woman who answered my phone call, added that the meat was not “certified organic” because the feed the cows eat is not organic, but she assured me that the cows were not hopped up on any hormones. (Wish she could give the same assurances about Roger Clemens.) I failed to asked what the cows eat, but I’ll find out.

I shared my findings about the Merck Forest with Eric. He didn’t seem crazy about the fact that the meat was frozen. He hates to freeze steaks, thinks it ruins the texture and flavor. I told Eric the frozen meat from Merck was worth trying. He said he wouldn’t mind driving up to the Northeast Kingdom.

Anyone know of a farm in the southwestern Vermont area that sells beef, preferably fresh or vacuum-packed?

(Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net, where I couldn’t find a picture of a steer.)

The Challenge of Buying Local

April 11, 2008 — About six weeks ago, some friends of ours bought beef from a farm in Greenwich, New York, about 20 minutes from where they live in Sandgate, a small town in southwestern Vermont.

“We should do that,” I said to Eric as he told me about our friends, the Monahan’s, beef bounty. “Only we should buy meat from a Vermont farm,” I quickly added. Eric, a life-long Vermonter, concurred.

Why Eric and I haven’t done this—purchased meat directly from a farmer—sooner is beyond me. After all, we live in a state known for its dairy farms (say cheese!). We like to support local businesses (a pox on the big box stores.) And we fancy ourselves more-or-less aware of the source of our food—though admittedly, Eric, who grew up hunting and fishing and who continues to bring home grouse, ducks, turkey and occasionally a deer, is a lot more aware than I. (I do, however, cook a lot of what he drags in dead through the kitchen door. Venison Bourguignonne anyone? Home-made turkey soup?)

Over the past couple of years, Eric and I have taken some small steps to reduce our dependency on the supermarket. For example, from June through October, we buy produce at a local farm stand, Clear Brook Farm, since I’m incapable of cultivating anything but weeds in the beds around our house. (At least we’ve got dandelion greens for salads. If they were good enough for Martha Stewart when she was at Alderson, they’re good enough for me.) And throughout the year we buy chicken, pork and beef from the two butcher shops in our small town instead of at the grocery store. In fact, when Riverside Custom Butchery opened across from the East Arlington post office last summer, Eric and I were eager to support the new establishment, which is within walking distance to our house. One day, when we were picking out some nicely marbled ribeyes for our charcoal grill and our rumbling stomachs, I asked the butcher, earnest do-gooder that I am, where the meat came from. We figured he was getting it from a local farm. Not so. He told us he got it in Boston.

So much for buying local.

I guess the realization that our “local” butcher shops weren’t so local coupled with our earnest desire to support Vermont businesses (and farms are businesses), coupled with the fact that hey, our friends were doing it, prompted us to get off our lazy butts and find a farm from which we could buy meat directly from the grower.

Note that we are not doing this because we were inspired by Barbara Kingsolver’s book about subsisting exclusively on local foods for a year. We haven’t read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Nor are we doing this because of Michael Pollan’s portrayal of industrial farming and the corn industry in The Omnivore’s Dilemma. We haven’t read that one, either. So far, there’s no dilemma for me: Give me Oreos or give me death. (Of course, if I read Pollan’s best-seller, I might think differently about those corn-sweetened cookies.) Anyway, we don’t need to read books by the New York intelligentsia to understand the importance of eating local and especially of supporting Vermont businesses.

In all seriousness, though, I am facing a dilemma, and I would venture to bet that legions of other ordinary, middle income Americans like me face the same conundrum when it comes to buying local: It ain’t always easy and it ain’t always cheap. Buying local forces me to prioritize what’s most important in my life. It calls on me to make tough choices about where and how I’m going to spend my hard-earned money at a time when I’m struggling to pay off an oil bill that’s grown as big as my monthly mortgage payment, in an economy that grows more unstable every day. Fully embracing the “Buy Local” or “Localvore” ethos requires me to execute on my ideals, to act on my beliefs, to literally put my money where my big mouth is.

Over the next several months, I’m going to share with you my experiences procuring (hunting, fishing, growing, foraging, purchasing) and preparing wild and local foods in Vermont. I hope you’ll share your experiences and recipes in this forum, too. To what degree do you subscribe to the localvore ethos? What challenges have you faced trying to eat local?