Travels with Chili: Whidbey Island Redux

This post was going to be about our trip with a friend to Seattle to celebrate her birthday. Other friends were driving down from Vancouver, BC, and we figured the Emerald City made a nice halfway point. That's until some research revealed that the only hotel rooms available were running about $250 bucks a night, and even if we shared a room with the birthday girl—yes, we've known each other that long—it would still be at least $500 a night to accomodate all of us.

Port Townsend from the Coupeville ferry dock.

Being frugal and also flexible, we started casting about for alternatives. When someone mentioned Whidbey Island, we heartily endorsed the notion, having just been there last fall. Our Canadian comrades quickly found a sweet little house overlooking the Saratoga Passage just outside the quaint mid-island town of Coupeville. With a view over the water, a pebbled beach to walk on and Mt. Baker looming over the scene, the price of $175 a night split five ways seemed like a steal.

View from the deck of our rented house.

I rode up with my friend on Friday, taking a route that avoided the obstructed bowel that is the traverse between Tacoma and Seattle. Instead, we cut off I-5 just before Tacoma, crossed over the Tacoma Narrows Bridge and wound our way up a four-lane scenic highway through Bremerton to Port Townsend. A quick ferry ride across the narrow entrance to the Puget Sound put us ten minutes from Coupeville, the whole trip taking almost exactly the same amount of time as driving from Portland to Mukilteo, north of Seattle, then catching the ferry to the southern end of the island with Coupeville still a 40-minute drive away.

Whidbey Pies & Cafe at Greenbank Farm.

Feeling very clever, we pulled up to the house at almost exactly the same time as the northern half of our group. We quickly unpacked and headed out to the sheltered side deck with our drinks in time to see a stunning sunset reflecting off of Mt. Baker in the distance. Dinner that night was a paella studded with delicate Penn Cove mussels that we'd picked up at Toby's tavern in Coupeville. The mussel version of Kumamoto oysters in their small size and creamy texture, they were not only gorgeous but gave that local, briny kick to the meal.

It took very little arm-twisting to convince the rest of the crew to explore Coupeville proper the next morning then hit Whidbey Pies & Cafe at Greenbank Farm for lunch. (Frankly, I doubt if this crowd heard much more than "pies" and agreed immediately.) That way we could meet Dave, who was driving up that morning from Portland, and we could all have lunch and some well-deserved beers before heading back to our new island "home."

The Oystercatcher's duck breast and confit.

The birthday girl's dinner took place that evening at the Oystercatcher, a casual but well-regarded spot in Coupeville. Longtime owners Joe Scott and Jamie Sastre had only recently sold the restaurant to Tyler and Sara Hansen, which left locals wondering if the change of hands might mean big changes to their beloved dinner house. If our meal there was any indication, the place is in expert hands, with everything made in-house and showing a clear dedication to working with island fisheries, farmers and ranchers.

My beef shoulder with creamed new potatoes and nasturtium butter was meltingly tender and deeply flavorful, though I have to say the whole table agreed that the duck breast and confit leg with roasted potatoes and an intriguing cherry mostarda was the hit of the evening. The 2011 Syncline Grenache was so lovely that we had to order a second bottle, followed by toasts with a couple of older Scotches back at the house to send the birthday girl off to bed.

So while I'm sure the Seattle trip would have been equally nice, the DIY aspect of this adventure, plus the opportunity to simply hang out with friends in a beautiful and relaxing place, made it so much more—and this is the operative word—fun.

Travels with Chili: Whidbey Island Idyll, Pt. 2

Mention living on an island and what springs to mind is an existence far from the concerns of busy mainlanders, a place where everyday cares and concerns take a back seat to quiet and contemplation. While it is impossible not to appreciate, and even meditate on, the deep green beauty that is the northern end of Washington's Puget Sound, there is much happening of a consequential nature on these islands, too.

Greenbank Farm

North of Langley, past Holmes Harbor and through fields dotted with yet-to-be-sheared sheep, near the narrow waist of the long body that is Whidbey Island, is a cluster of old-style red buildings known collectively as Greenbank Farm. Originally more than 500 acres of prime agricultural and forest land, it had evolved from an ancient gathering place for Native Americans to a dairy farm and, by the middle of the last century, to the largest loganberry farm in the country. In the mid-1970s it was acquired by Chateau Ste. Michelle as part of a larger business deal, and by the 90s was slated to be sold off to develop 400 homesites.

Horrified locals rallied to save the historic farm and buildings, and in 1997 a unique con­sor­tium con­sist­ing of the county, the Nature Con­ser­vancy and the Port of Coupeville pur­chased the prop­erty, renaming it Greenbank Farm after the small community nearby. The mission of the farm was focused on four areas: agriculture, natural resource stewardship, economic development and recreation, outlined in an ambitious Master Site Plan developed in 2009.

Go there now and  you'll find the original barn from 1904 that contains farm offices, a large event space and the startlingly delicious pies and pastries of Whidbey Pies. Next door are newer buildings built to mimic the architectural style of the barn and housing art galleries, a wine shop and a cheese shop.

It's also the home of an innovative farmer training program called the Organic Farm School, a 7 1/2-month-long hands-on course that teaches aspir­ing farm­ers the tech­ni­cal and busi­ness skills needed to run a small-scale organic farm. And it doesn't stop there…the school offers mentoring, networking and placement for its students, as well as teaching students how to develop an individualized business plan and giving them practical help with financing.

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Camano Island Coffee Roasters



By the time he was in his early 30s, Jeff Ericson was a multimillionaire businessman in Arizona. Despite this early success, he was also unhappy, realizing that all that money hadn't brought the satisfaction he desired. Added to that was his weight—well over 400 pounds—and the life-threatening toll it was taking on his body. Looking to get healthy, as well as to rekindle the passion for business he'd experienced earlier in his life, he decided to start over on Camano Island, which he'd run across on a business trip to Washington State.

Serendipitously, about the same time he was starting Camano Island Coffee Roasters, he read an article about an organization called Agros International in Seattle. Dedicated to social and economic justice in Central America, it purchases agricultural land and provides microloans to families caught in the cycle of poverty, giving them the tools to become self-reliant. Attracted to this model, Ericson decided partner with Agros and buy his organic, fair-trade, shade-grown coffee beans from their farmers.

Now involved in more than 40 villages and having worked with 25,000 farmers, Ericson has become an evangelist for socially responsible business and how it can affect real change in people's lives while serving the bottom line. And he's not just talking about the poor farmers that he's met. He's heard from his customers that his coffee has changed their lives, too. As he says in the video above, "Change can happen with every cup of coffee."

Read the other posts in this series: Whidbey Island Idyll, Pt. 1, about the town of Langley, and Pt. 3, Cama Beach on Camano Island. Photo of Greenbank Farm at top ©RoseAnn Alspektor.