Farm Bulletin: Call to Action

It's not often that I ask readers to take action on an issue, but in this case the issue is the continued economic survival of many small Oregon farmers, the ones who depend on direct sales to customers at farmers' markets. And who better to speak to those issues than contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek, who was on the bipartisan agriculture committee that helped draft HB 2336 (link to full text at bottom). Please consider contacting your state legislators about this important bill.

The “Direct Farm Marketing Bill” has passed out of committee February 7th and is going to the floor of the Oregon House of Representatives for critical vote. We need people to call their representatives and urge a ‘yes’ vote on HB 2336. Click on the link for the phone number and email for your representative.

Here is why this bill is important:

Over the last two decades, agriculture in Oregon has seen a marked increase in venues for selling agricultural products directly to the consumer. Farmers’ markets, community supported agriculture (CSA), and buying clubs have increased without a clear place in the regulatory structure. Historically, roadside stands selling produce, eggs and honey have been treated as exempt from licensing, but these new venues stretch that definition. HB 2336 provides necessary statutory guidance on this issue with a balanced and sensible regulatory approach to direct marketing. The provisions of the bill are the result of a year’s worth of meetings between the Oregon Department of Agriculture, the Oregon Farmers’ Market Association, farmers and legislators. This working group was chaired by Representative Matt Wingard.

The bill identifies foods that, from a food safety perspective, are regarded as either non-hazardous, or minimally hazardous, and that can be safely produced by the farmer and sold directly to the consumer without licenses or inspection. I want to emphasize that, with the help of ODA staff, these definitions are tightly drawn. Foods that pose a greater hazard, such as sprouts, low-acid canned vegetables and fruits, and baked goods, are not included and must be processed in a licensed facility. The bill includes labeling requirements so the food can be traced to its source. It must be stressed that farmers’ market rules still prevail, regardless of licensing requirements. These organizations will still determine who can participate in the market, and what they can sell.

With its provisions regarding preserves and pickles, this bill provides room for innovation at a small-scale. New ideas invariably start at this level whether it is in someone’s kitchen or garage. Allowing farmers to try out new products at a small, manageable scale is an important step in fostering innovation. HB 2336 also includes a provision that allows the ODA to expand the list of foods that can be prepared at the farm, consistent with food safety. With the $20,000 annual limit on sales of these foods, the bill set up a clear threshold where the farmer must shift into a licensed facility. Finally, the ODA can withdraw the exemption in cases where the public health is deemed in jeopardy.

At the public hearing for HB 2336, the NW Food Processors and the Farm Bureau came out in opposition to the bill. Their testimony undermined the support of some members of the committee who were not part of the earlier process. In the work session, Representative Wingard and the staff from the Oregon Department of Agriculture did a great job clarifying what the bill does and doesn't do. It was a long session for them, but they answered all the questions carefully and thoroughly. Their measured presentations eased the concerns of many members.

HB 2336 passed its first legislative hurdle Monday (2/7) evening when it passed out of the House Committee on Agriculture and Natural Resources on a bipartisan 6 to 2 vote with a "do pass" recommendation. The "nay" votes were also bipartisan, one Democrat and one Republican, for what it is worth.

The bill now goes to the House floor. The lobbyists for the NW Food Processors and the Farm Bureau will likely try to stop this bill on the House floor. It is critical that citizens express their confidence in the farmers' markets by calling or emailing their representative. The floor vote will likely be on Wednesday (2/16), so the contact needs to be made quickly. All that is needed is a statement in support of HB 2336, and a nice word or two about farmers’ markets and buying directly from a farmer to underscore the bill’s purpose. If you can relay a positive story or experience, even better. Legislators like to hear they are doing something positive, especially this session when they being called upon to cut services.

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Update: The Direct Farm Marketing Bill passed in the Oregon House 45-13. Thank you all for your calls and messages to your House reps!

For a pdf of the complete text of HB2336, click here.

Farm Bulletin: Patience Is a Hard Virtue

 

This week's bulletin from contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm, nestled in the sylvan hills of the Wapato Valley near Gaston, is short, sweet and pungent.

Shy on greens this week. We are waiting for the late winter growth to start, and it will. We should have more for the next two markets. Once the shift happens, the greens start to grow quickly, and will double in two weeks. The sun is riding higher and the day is increasing. In the meantime, we drum our fingers.

Pancakes 101

Good cooks become good cooks over time, developing recipes through trial and error, experimenting with ingredients and methods until they finally find the mix that works for them. Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food has done just that with pancakes, and this week he shares two of his favorite recipes with us.

My pancake touchstone is the recipe in my 1943 Joy of Cooking. A couple of eggs, milk, salt and flour, the batter leavened with double acting baking powder. When our boys were young I made it with buttermilk, Nancy’s yogurt and a blend of white and whole wheat flour. We ate them with jam and yogurt mostly, sometimes fake maple syrup. My approach has evolved a bit over the past couple of decades.

Pancakes

For basic pancakes you need three mixing bowls. In one combine about a cup and half of whole wheat flour (or mixture of unbleached white, white whole wheat, etc.) with a teaspoon each of baking powder and salt. Blend well.

Use the other two bowls to separate two eggs. In the bowl with the yolks, blend in about a cup of buttermilk (or milk and yogurt mixed, or just milk). Set the whites aside for a minute.

Make a depression in the flour mix in the dry bowl, pour in the milk blend, and mix gently until combined. It should be fairly thick, but not that it won’t pour, so add a little more milk if necessary, but don’t mix any more than you need to.

Use a manual eggbeater to beat the whites to soft peaks, then gently fold them in to the batter.

Your griddle or skillet should be heated already (low heat, preferably cast iron). Drop spoonfuls of batter onto the griddle; keep them small and the cakes will be easier to manage. Don’t crowd them, either.

Ignore them for about 3-4 minutes, then look to see if the edges are drying out and small bubbles are forming on the top. When the bubbles on top begin to open, gently slide a thin metal spatula under the edge of the first cake. Lift it a bit to make sure it’s brown, then loosen the edges before flipping it over. Flip the rest, cook for another 3-4 minutes, then remove to a warm plate for eating.

After I started getting the incredible corn meal produced by Carol and Anthony Boutard at their Ayers Creek Farm, I made corn cakes by substituting the corn for some of the flour. These are also delicious, especially with the addition of some chopped cooked bacon, or, even better, candied bacon.

But after making some fritters from cooked winter squash and polenta, and liking how the squash blended with the corn, I thought the same combination might work with pancakes. It does.

Winter Squash Corncakes with Bacon

In one bowl, combine the dry ingredients: 1 cup good cornmeal (Ayers Creek, Anson Mills or similar whole grain ground corn), 1/2 cup whole wheat flour, 1 teaspoon each baking soda and salt. Add about a half cup of chopped, cooked bacon.

Separate two eggs. To the yolks, add a cup of cooked winter squash, and a cup of milk (or buttermilk or yogurt or a mix). Blend well, then combine with the dry ingredients. Add more milk if the batter is too thick to pour. Beat the whites to soft peaks and fold in.

Cook as described above. I like to eat these with maple syrup and creme fraiche.

Top photo: For a great topper, check out this recipe for Braised Apples, Maple Syrup and Bourbon.

Farm Bulletin: "A Wolfish, Cussed Root"

This week, contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm gives us an essay that turns on a historic canal, a chance meeting and an ugly root, Armoracia rusticana, or, as it is more commonly known, horseradish. One note: If you've never had freshly grated horseradish root, it has a much milder, earthy bite than the stuff you'll find on your grocer's shelf.

I've got a mule and her name is Sal,
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal,
She's a good ol' worker and a good ol' pal.
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal,
We've hauled some barges in our day,
Filled with lumber, coal and hay,
And we know ev'ry inch of the way,
From Albany to Buffalo.

In 1825, the Erie Canal opened, allowing the shipment of agricultural goods from Buffalo to Albany, and then down the Hudson to markets and ports of New York City. It was a stunning and audacious achievement for a young nation. This 363-mile self-contained and mostly artificial body of water had 36 locks that accommodated the 550-foot elevation difference between the two cities. Elegant aqueducts carried the canal, about 40 feet wide and a scant four feet deep, over rivers and ravines. Moving produce and freight by canal barge is slow but highly efficient, roughly twice as efficient as rail. Stretches of the original canal are still used to move freight.

The horseradish plant.

The opening of the canal had a huge impact on the hill towns of New England. Marginal farms were abandoned, their soils having been depleted after a century of use, and the farmers moved to the fertile soils of Western New York and Ohio. There was a shortage of timber in southern New England, so the houses and barns were disassembled and the wood used elsewhere. The first house the two of us owned was in New Haven, Connecticut. Built around 1830, most of the framing and planks were recycled from abandoned barns. Anomalous paint, dimensions, nail holes and notches betrayed their earlier use in a barn.

One of these abandoned farms was located on a hilltop in West Stockbridge, Massachusetts. All that remained of the homestead was a brick chimney and a caved-in stone foundation. The big locust trees still shaded these remnants. Unlike many of the abandoned farms, the meadow was used as summer pasture by a nearby farm, so the old fields remained open. Underneath the locusts, a horseradish patch still flourished about 150 years after its cultivators moved westward. Every autumn, after the tops died off, we dug a dozen or so roots. Gardening and cooking authors reflexively describe horseradish as an "invasive plant." Robust, expansive and persistent, certainly, but it it is not invasive. The horseradish roots we gathered in the autumn were from a root planted two centuries earlier, a life longer than Ghengis Khan or Alexander, and they yet remained just a small patch.

Grated horseradish.

A bit south of the horseradish plant, Ambrose Hunt was born in Hillsdale, New York, in 1803. He moved westward shortly after the canal was finished, settling in the Finger Lakes region. Old habits die hard, so he found another farm on a hill. Our daughter farms that land on Italy Hill in Branchport, New York with her husband, Jonathan Hunt. After an unsuccessful inquiry, the Hunts assumed the house in Hillsdale fell to the same fate as other abandoned homesteads. One day, Anthony's brother, a landscaper, brought a bottle of the Hunt's wine to a client of his in Hillsdale. Seeing the label, she exclaimed, "that's interesting, my house was once owned by a family called Hunt." In vino verum.

Horseradish is a wolfish, cussed root and as unyielding at harvest as the most stubborn canal mule. Few farms bother with it, especially in the heavy soils of the Willamette Valley. It grows on our farm because it reminds us of the beautiful pasture on Maple Hill, the Erie Canal and winter meals livened up with its evanescent bite. Horseradish is the Bohemian parmesan. Grated or shaved into soups or salads, on meat or fish, or on top of mashed potatoes, it brightens the winter table. One of the great wonders to us is why restaurants don't have a horseradish steward on the staff. "Would you like a bit of freshly grated horseradish on your vichyssoise?" A lot more stylish than the affected fetish with an oversized pepper grinder.

Don't let your opinion of horseradish be shaped by the prepared root in a jar. The vinegar and mustard oil in the processed condiment linger on the palate. The mustard oil is used the boost the heat of the horseradish, but the oil destroys that fleeting and refined pungency you find in the freshly grated version.

The Tests of Winter

No, this isn't what you're thinking…there are no not grand musings about man v. the elements or figuring out how to crawl out of a crevasse or even how to dry flannel sheets so they don't turn into a wadded, crinkled mess (anyone else have this problem?). It's about what farmers do in winter, when the farmers' markets are few and far between, the crop selection trims to cold-tolerant species and the mud on their boots adds 10 pounds to each leg.

I was out at Ayers Creek Farm in Gaston on a recent Friday and Anthony and Carol were experimenting with a few new value-added products to add to their lineup of preserves, popcorn, polenta, frikeh and the like. This time it was hominy using their heirloom Roy's Calais Flint Corn and Amish Butter Corn varieties and a new preserve using jostaberries, a cross between a blackcurrant and a gooseberry that has an intense, tart flavor combined with a deep purple, almost black color.

First up was the hominy, which was first cooked in a mix of water and slaked lime—calcium hydroxide, also called cal in Mexico—then allowed to sit overnight where it would "bloom" in a process called nixtamalization (say that six times fast). After rinsing (right), some of each type of corn was put straight into canning jars, while another batch was cooked an extra hour before going into the jars to see which would have a better texture after pressure canning. As an added variation, half of each type had lemon juice added to the water to see how it might affect the color and flavor.

In a nod to caution, not to mention to avoid having the kitchen look like a battlefield with blood and glass and hominy littering the floor, the jars were only filled about three-quarters full (top photo), since no one was sure how much the hominy might expand in the pressure cooker. This turned out to be a wise move, since the corn ended up almost filling the jars.

Anthony decided to wait a week before opening them to test for flavor and texture, then refine the final product from there. Actual processing, should the venture turn out, will take place under the watchful (and certified) eyes of Paul and Judy Fuller at Sweet Creek Foods.

The jostaberry preserves were a much simpler operation, taking berries that had been macerating overnight in sugar and essentially cooking them down to concentrate their flavor and boil off any water. Anthony insisted on using a copper pot for the process, in this case a gorgeous hand-hammered beauty with a curved iron handle that they had picked up on a trip through Spain (left).

Before cooking the berries were run through a grinder attached to Anthony's trusty KitchenAid mixer to remove the bulk of the seeds and pulpy parts, leaving juice and some fleshy bits for the jam. The Boutards never use pectin or solidifying agents in their preserves, preferring to let the fruit speak for itself, so the jam was very loose as it was poured into the jars. But after sitting overnight in our refrigerator the natural pectin in the berries firmed up nicely and it was the perfect texture for spreading on Dave's toasted sourdough (right).

The flavor was a bowl-you-over rich, slightly tart mouthful of deliciousness, and I can't wait for it to start appearing (right, you guys?) at their stand at the Hillsdale market. It might just give their blackcap jam a run for the money as my favorite preserve ever. Though sadly, as I prepared to leave the science-lab-cum-farm-kitchen, I found that hammered copper bowl was a tad too large to sneak under my coat and home. Dang.

Farm Bulletin: Jam Session

The first time I tasted the preserves from Ayers Creek Farm, it was a jam made from the blackcap, a tiny blackish-blue berry whose shape is similar to a raspberry but with a shallower cup and much tinier drupelets. Spread on warm buttered toast it was a revelation, and I've since gone on to sample many more of their amazing preserves, each one the distilled essence of the fruit. This week contributor Anthony Boutard describes the process used in making them, and you can get some for yourself two Sundays a month through the winter at the Ayers Creek stand at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market.

In mid-November, we made our third run down to Elmira, a small town 105 miles south of Gaston. The sky was clear and Orion's belt twinkled low and clear in the early morning sky. We left 20 minutes early, hoping to arrive before our customary 9:06 arrival time. Bogged down in Corvallis, we arrived at 9:09. Upon entering the sparkling processing room at Sweet Creek Foods, it is clear that Paul has everything set up for the day's processing run. The deseeder is in the middle of the room. Stainless steel vats were filled with fruit that had been macerating in sugar for 36 hours. On the table stood a hand-cranked juicer, a case of organic lemons, a knife and cutting board.

Sweet Creek Foods is a small processing and bottling company operated by Paul and Judy Fuller. The facility is certified organic and the Fullers pack tuna, pickles, salsas and jams under their own label. They are also a co-packer; they allow farmers to bring in fruits and vegetables they have grown for canning. Paul is a refrigeration and food processing engineer, and runs the facility. The machinery has been assembled from auctions and demolitions as the valley's smaller canneries closed their doors. It is a classic steam operated cannery, the most gentle way to process food. The machinery clanks, hisses and wheezes just like the 'African Queen'. At the center of the facility is a bottling machine Paul purchased new from Italy. There are some machines, he notes, that must be purchased new, and a bottler is one of those.

In the summer of 2005, after our second winter season at Hillsdale, we decided to produce preserves from the fruit grown at Ayers Creek, and contacted Paul and Judy whom we had met a couple of years earlier. From test runs, we knew we wanted a simple preserve made from fruit, sugar and lemon juice, without additional pectin. Adding commercial pectin dulls the acids in the fruit, and you lose its spritely quality. We also learned to cook up the fruit in small, two-gallon lots and use freshly squeezed instead of frozen lemon juice. We harvest the earliest fruit for the preserves; they have the highest concentration of pectins and acids. It works for us because there is not enough fruit in those early harvests to justify a delivery run. Mixing the fruit and sugar a day or more in advance is called "maceration" and helps free the pectins in the fruit. These complex molecules give fruit its body and, when brought to 222°F, cause the fruit to set. After explaining with due diligence that this is not the way processors make preserves, Paul set about make it work for us. 

Every single variety of fruit cooks differently. Of the fruit we process, the most difficult are the raspberries. Red raspberry should be simple, but it is a delicate fruit and quick to take umbrage at careless handling. This year's run went without a hitch and is the very best we have ever made. Blackcap and purple raspberry have hard, sharp seeds, so deseeding is essential. For some mysterious reason they also take about three times as long to cook as the other berries or the plums. We have learned to cook purples and blackcaps on separate days, and always in the morning when our humor is fresh. The raspberry, boysenberry and loganberry are the most fragrant fruit to cook. The currants are explosive in the pot and exact their share of blisters. The plums have a rolling, sensuous boil due to their heavy skins.

Working with Paul and his staff is one of the great pleasures of the year. The Fullers are in a tough, competitive business, yet they retain a playfulness and enthusiasm that makes a five-to-nine day fun. They source fruits and vegetables locally, and buy our blackberries for the preserves. The tuna is purchased from a fisherman that Paul has known for years. The wall of Judy's office is decorated with jars from the many farms they have worked with over the years. Our preserves are possible because of their vision and business acumen. The two of us have strong opinions about making preserves, yet at the end of the day full credit goes to Paul and Judy for opening such a fine little factory to so many farmers.