This morning I was checking my twitter stream and found this tweet: “But You Don’t Look Like a Farmer! http://bit.ly/obay0h #agchat” The tweet was from @agblogfeed and to be clear, agblogfeed is simply an aggregate account to promote all sorts of blog posts relating to agriculture.

The post is about farm wife (her phrase) that is meeting with some other women in or near Chicago to discuss perceptions about agriculture. The “city moms” are taken aback by how the farm wife is dressed, hence the title of the post, “But you don’t look like a farmer.” I think it’s great that this lady had the opportunity to explain more about what her family is doing and what American agriculture means to them, but as I read the post I couldn’t help stumble each time she referred to the other women as “city moms.” I couldn’t help but thing that the same prejudice that the farm wife was having to confront is the same sort of prejudice that allowed her to see the other women as “city moms.”

I used this lady’s blog post as a specific example of what I’ve seen happening a lot within the agriculture/city folk dichotomy. As issues of food security, agriculture sustainability, and the aging farming population continue to rise into mainstream conversations, those of us involved in producing food will continue to share about what we are doing. It is really easy to turn this sort of conversation into an us vs. them position. But if food provider’s continue to refer to other people in stereotypes then why should we expect others to do the same for us?

What do you think? Am I reading too much into this? Do you see examples of this in your relationships?


I’ve always had a pretty high standard for the produce that comes off of our farm. My boss at my previous farm was meticulous in his expectations of the farm’s produce that we delivered to our CSA members. I expected clean and fresh produce when I was working and cooking in restaurant kitchens. So now that I have my own operation, my standard remains pretty high. We triple wash our greens. We soak our roots. We cool everything as soon as possible. I assumed that other farms had the same goals. But this morning as I was scanning my twitter feed I found this post about making a DIY produce wash. I encourage our members to wash their produce before they use it not because I don’t think our produce is clean, but because I think that it’s an important practice to do consistently when preparing produce.

But what caught my attention was AJ’s opening paragrah: “My CSA share is getting bigger and bigger by the week, which means lots and lots of produce washing. It’s funny, you’d think that straight from the farm would mean less cleaning, since everything’s local, organic, blah blah blah. But that’s really not the case. I find more dirt and critters in my CSA fruits and vegetables than I’ve ever seen in any produce at the grocery store. You don’t even want to know what I found in one of my peaches this past week… seriously.”

So I’m left wondering, do people associate “straight-from-the-farm produce to be covered in dirt and insects?” What do you think?

More words from Trace at Cricket Bread.  His language is poetic.  Enjoy

Many of us never meant to become farmers.  We had our ambitions to enter the world as accountants or lawyers or teachers or some other clean, respectable professional.  We never really thought about the origins of our food; we always knew that the supermarket shelves would fill themselves, food came in boxes or cans ready to serve and farmers were simply one dimensional photographs in the mix of a hot new marketing campaign.

Farming was at best some idyllic retirement scheme, never a seriously considered career possibility.

But then something happened.  In the previously steady route of our lives, a shift occurred.  The soil moved under us somehow, got stuck in the creases of our pants, in the ridges of our shoes, in the lines of our palms.  Suddenly white picket fences, situation comedies and mutual fund returns didn’t seem so interesting anymore.  The big ball game and the driving range became distractions from the reality of a new love affair.  We got hooked on the possibilities of growing our own food and also providing that food to others.

The epiphany was likely different for many of us.  Maybe a friend took us to a farmers market.  Maybe someone had a plate of local hamburgers or collards at a picnic.  Maybe the news of some global food disaster made us question the monocultures piled high on our plates.  Maybe a real life farmer entered our life.

For a few of us, those with farming in our past – a childhood spent in the fields of the big farms or the family plots, throwing rocks into the hedgerows for little or no pay or watching over milking machines in the stench of industrial sized barns – there was no love, no kind of encouragement, no appreciation for our part in the dynamics of food production.  We were simply limbs and calluses then, small gears in a giant cranking clock.  We left the farm to pursue something else only to be pulled back hard when it became apparent that we could abandon everything that farming once meant to us.  We could make it ours.

Still others came to farming from DIY and anti-authoritarian backgrounds, building urban community gardens or putting up food in anarchist collectives.  Gardening always had a community aspect to it, but we wanted something more.  We knew that we could do the work, that we had the right vision and skills.  We just needed the access and the resources to get started.

Regardless of how we arrived at this point, here we are; we will call ourselves farmers from now on.

Our new loves – with their sharp hooves and unfamiliar odors, bright green leaves and bee covered flowers – give all the confidence to continue and pursue every goal we can imagine.  Our new hates – hail, crop failures and rain on market days – fully test our tolerance and keep those same goals in the territory of attainability.  Throughout all the highs and lows we can look at ourselves over and over again knowing that, if we stick to our ideals, we can do noble and appropriate work no matter what happens.

Local and sustainable farmers are our peers and our heroes, the most supportive, loving and steadfast community we could ever hope for.

We young and new farmers have the opportunity to change the features of the agricultural systems we have come to inherit.  Through the way we speak, act and work we can change the old infrastructure, market by market and county by county.  We have the time and ability to influence extension agents, educational systems and other institutions to make them function the way we need them to function in order to attain a sane and purposeful community based food system.

We are the new blood in the old body.

For nearly a year and a half I’ve been following a blog called Sustainable Food Jobs. The blog started as a very simple idea: post job listings that relate to sustainable food. In the beginning, things started pretty slowly. One post every few days, but now it seems to be averaging about five to seven listings a day. The job postings offer positions ranging everything from short term fellowship opportunities to assistant farmer/CSA manager to Executive Director for non-profit, sustainable food organizations. Even though I have a farm for myself, I’ve enjoyed reading the posts each day to get a sense for the types of positions that are out there.

This morning as I was skimming the posts, I saw a post for a position for a company that promotes sustainable agricultural practices seeking to fill a full time position with a salary around $45,000. (I would like to be clear on something before I move on. I am not being critical of this company or the salary that it is offering; I’m just using it as an example.) A few posts down from this one I started seeing posts for apprentice positions that, if they were year-round positions, would amount to $15,000. Certainly, there is a difference between the level of experience that the office position was seeking compared to the farming apprenticeship, but this reminded me of other discrepancies that I have seen before. It is a near-impossible thing to try to compare the value of two different positions, but it does make me wonder about how the positions are valued.

Last month, the USDA released a publication entitled, “A Revised and Expanded Food Dollar Series: A Better Understanding of Our Food Costs,” and in the publication they have a few graphic representations of the breakdown of each dollar spent on food. Here is a simple graphic expressing the percent of a dollar that goes directly to the farmer/rancher.

This graphic represents the difference between the farms share and the marketers share of the average dollar spent on food. This graphic is more representative of a bag of Dole’s baby spinach than of a bunch of spinach purchased from a farmer at a farmer’s market. It’s amazing to see that the people that are growing the food receive 5x less the amount of money than the company that is telling you to buy the food.

Seeing this graphic and reading through the publication reminded me about a podcast called Deconstructing Dinner. I remember listening to an episode a while back about a grain co-op that was getting started. The host was listening in on a meeting between the grain farmers and other co-founders of the grain co-op. They were discussing the possibility of hiring a CSA coordinator at the salary of $20/hour for 1-2 days of work a week. The discussion that followed was poignant. Here sat the grain farmers, who would be growing the grain for the co-op/CSA and would not be making $20/hour, trying to express how that felt. (Click the link above and skip to the 29th minute mark to hear the discussion.)

The people in the interview mentioned several times that the salary disparity between the grower and promoter of the food was “just apart of how things are now,” and I’m afraid they are correct. It seems to be the reality that those that produce the food will always retain a minor percentage of the money spent on food, and even organization that support, encourage, and champion small sustainable farmers will receive a larger paycheck then the farmers, themselves. What do you think about this? or perhaps a better question would be, do you think about this?

So what can we do to correct this financial disparity?

  • Go out of your way to purchase directly from the farmer/rancher/fisher.
  • Reduce the amount of prepackaged foods your family purchased.
  • Find a CSA to participate in.
  • Look for a restaurant in your area that is purchasing a significant amount of it’s food from local farms and ranches.

What else could we add to this list?

I’m kinda done with bacon.

There…I said it. Quick and painless–like pulling off a band-aid. I feel a bit better now. You can understand why that was so difficult for me to get out, can’t you? I mean, I am participating in this year-long celebration of charcuterie, and to mention that I’m tired of hearing about bacon is like a cheese maker expressing their displeasure for mozzarella. Homemade bacon (and mozzarella) is a gateway into the age-old craft, so why would I say that I’m done with it?

It’s because of the bacon donuts and bacon ice cream (Sorry Mr. Lebovitz) and other bacon desserts and bacon explosions and all this bacony crap. For the past 4 or 5 years it seems that people have been talking about bacon. All the talk about bacon has turned a wonderful food into a trite, cliche, marketing gimmick. Don’t get me wrong, I do like bacon; it’s fatty and salty and, if cooked properly, crispy. But I find myself wincing every time I see people talking about it. Why?!?

Maybe it’s because I’ve had enough bland, limp bacon in my life to wonder why people go nuts over it. Maybe I’m picturing people sprinkling Bac-Os on everything (you’re choice of Bits or Chips, but don’t worry neither contain meat or animal fat!). Maybe bacon has a PR problem.

Amidst all of this confusion I started to see the word “lardon” pop up in discussions about bacon. I didn’t have the same reaction to the word lardon as I did to bacon, yet there isn’t much difference in what they are. Maybe there was hope for me after all. So I started on my February challenge with the intent to make both a sweet and a savory bacon. I followed Rhulman’s recipes and added brown sugar to the sweet cure and garlic, black pepper, juniper berries, and bay leaves to the savory one. In the fridge for a week. Flipping the belly over for a nice massage every other day. By the eighth day, the thickest part of the belly was firm to the touch, so I rinsed it off and popped it into the oven for a couple of hours.  L and I had some friends over to do a taste test between the two types of bacon. The consensus seemed to be that each type of bacon had a significantly different flavor that it was hard to compare them to each other.

During the week that the bacon was curing, I was trying to decide what recipe to use for the challenge. It didn’t take long for me to remember a recipe that Deb at Smitten Kitchen posted a while back for Asparagus Hash. I’ve made it a handful of times, and I think we made it two times within one week once because it is so tasty. The savory bacon would be perfect for this recipe. Deb’s recipe called for pancetta, but since my pancetta wasn’t ready yet the savory bacon (lardon) would work fine in it’s place.

Into the pan goes the lardons to crisp. Pull them out and place them on a paper towel to drain. Into the pan goes chopped potatoes. Next goes the onions and shallots. Last into the mix is the asparagus. When the asparagus is finished, toss the lardons back into the pan and mix it all together. In a separate skillet, fry up a couple of eggs and plop them on the top of the hash. Pour yourself a tall glass of OJ or a Bloody Mary and enjoy!

I’m glad I chose the savory bacon for this recipe; it paired so well with the asparagus and potato flavors. I think the sweet bacon would have caused a bit of pallet confusion, and that’s never a good thing. I started to make pancetta for the February challenge, but it’ll still be hanging by the 15th, so I’ll put that post up when it’s done. In the mean time, I’ll raise my fork to home-cured bacon…er, lardons….er, whatever. This taste too good to quibble over semantics.

I am learning that winter is a strange season for me as a farmer. Rather than my days filled with the sun beating down on my and dirt underneath my fingernails, I am trying to familiarize myself with the muted glow of a computer screen and paper cuts. The winter season (for a zone 5 farmer) allows me to catch up on some needed rest and affords me some time to start planning for the next years farm. The seasonal transition reveals it’s effects on my body as the sun-kissed  color fades from my skin and as weight adds itself to my frame.

The physical demands of the winter season are far less than the demands from the spring, summer, and fall, yet the season has needs that are unique to itself. Winter is the season for dreaming, planning, and preparing for the up coming year. It is a time to reflect on the previous seasons and evaluate the vegetables that grew well sold quickly. It is a time to check the quality of your equipment and the supply of your seeds. The toll of the winter season is on the mind rather than the body.

A while back I picked up a book entitled, “The Organic Farmer’s Business Handbook” by Richard Wiswall. The book has been a great resource for challenging me to think of the farm in terms of a business– to think beyond the production aspect of farming and to think about core business decisions that can make the farm profitable. Many young farmers that I know have been drawn to farming for philosophical or ethical reasons. These aren’t “bad” reasons to pursue farming, but there must be some element of profitability involved in the farm or it can’t be sustainable. Wiswall’s book has helped me understand that. So I started to create spreadsheets of average plant yields and farm maps and planting dates. I started to calculate how much produce I could expect to grow on our little 1/2 acre. Then, I tweeked the types of vegetables to maximize my yield to profit ratio. For example, in the space that it requires to grow 2 ears of corn (about 1 sq. foot) I could also grow 12 beets, three times throughout the season. If I bunched the beets into groups of 6 and accounted for a little loss, then in the same space I could either yield 2 ears of corn or 5 bunches of beets. The market value of an ear of corn might be $.50 and the market value of a bunch of beets is around $3.00. So when I compare the two crops I quickly find that it makes more sense to grow beets rather than sweet corn.

The detail-oriented-ness that this type of planning takes does not come natural to me, but I know that this is as much of a priority as weeding is for the farmer. I am slowly learning to embrace spreadsheets as a tool as valuable as the hoe.


One of the best explanations of Twitter that I’ve heard is that it’s “a group of strangers that could be your best friends.” Sure, there’s a whole bunch of nonsense going on in the twitter-sphere, but the way I have chosen to interact with it is to find people who have similar interests, passions, focus, and ramble on about the things we love. It’s been great! (This also gives my wife a break from listening to me continually babble about varieties of squash, food trends, or new revelations in compost.)

So a few weeks ago, I started to see the hashtag #charcutepalooza pop up on a bunch of my friends’ twitter feeds. This piqued my attention because I had been toying with the idea of trying my hand at some simple charcuterie, but I didn’t know anyone (face to face) who was doing it. I started to look into this #charcutepalooza buzz and found out that two blogging friends (Mrs. Wheelbarrow’s Kitchen and The Yummy Mummy) have declared 2011 “The Year of Meat,” and that they were going to use Michael Ruhlman’s book Charcuterie as a guidebook for 12 challenges throughout the year. The past 6 week have created quite the commotion on the twitter-sphere using the hashtag #charcutepalooza, and there has even been a Washington Post article about it.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to sign up and join in because I thought I had too much going on with finishing up my last semester of school while starting an urban farm that employs developmentally disabled adults. But as I thought about, I realized that no matter how busy I get I find sanctuary in the kitchen. I never tire from cooking and experimenting with food. So I realized that even though I am in a very busy phase of my life, I always find time for food!

For then next 12 months you’ll see me posting the results of the challenges and some of the recipes for the different cured meats. The first two challenges include duck prosciutto and home cured bacon or pancetta. I’m sure that at some point in the year we are going to get into pates and terrines, and I might need some extra encouragement during those challenges.

I hope you enjoy the Year of Meat as much as I will.