Cheers to the decade behind and ahead!

Well, another year and decade have come and gone. Lately, I’ve been troubled by the media hype on the terrible moments and decisions that have occurred during the past decade in our country, but I have decided to dismiss the negative hype and reverse my thinking. Now, I’m in a state of amazement over realizing what strides have been made, especially with food and agriculture. Just think what you knew ten years ago about the food system and then compare it to what you know now. For me it’s mind blowing how much I have learned. I’ve gone from a Kraft mac-n-cheese “cook” to a wannabe farmer who makes sauerkraut in her spare time. Of course, the past decade has just happened to be my most developmental and educational years of my life, but nonetheless I think similar changes around food have happened in our society.
The Mains at the Davis Farmers Market in 2001

Just this morning, for instance, on NPR Martha Stewart spoke about the connection between food, the environment, and our health and the importance of organic production. Ten years ago Martha Stewart was focused on fancy cakes and decorating dinner tables. While I don’t hale Martha as the queen of food, she is an icon for mainstream America and represents a cultural shift in awareness. Even more momentous is this: after more than half a century of decline in number of farmers, 2008 was he first year that the number of farmers increased! Small organic farms, farmers markets, CSA’s,… have increased tremendously and continue to. Today, college students can major in Sustainable Agriculture- in 2000 those words weren’t even spoken of in universities. Now, that’s worth toasting to!

I could write all day about the changes that have occurred for the better in our food system, and likewise I could list the many things that still need changing, but that’s not what I want to do. Instead, I want to leave you with optimism. Think what has improved in your life and community, and next time you’re discouraged by the huge hurdles that seem impassable, remember that change does happen- sometimes it’s slower than we would like, but little strides make a big difference.

On a final note, I want to commend the work of both the Mains and BluePrint Productions. The past decade has been huge for both- the very notion that there’s a documentary on preserving farms is in of itself amazing. But this next decade will be crucial for both crews: the Mains will see a shift in the ownership of their land as it’s put into an easement for permanent farming, and Chuck and David will finish and release The Last Crop. This means that not only do they need our support more than ever but also that we have lots to look forward to!

Tis the Season...

Well, I just got home after spending a wonderful evening out at the Main’s farm. My mom is in town visiting me, and Annie invited us out for dinner, so we journeyed out to the country. As we were driving to Capay, the sun was falling behind the hills intensively lighting the open fields- I so easily forget how vast the sky and land are. When we arrived Zach was the only one on the farm- working on the house, putting up drywall in the upstairs bedrooms. He gave us a tour of the house, showing us the latest additions and upcoming projects. Then he headed home, and Mom and I took a walk around the farm guided by the dogs, Molly and Bean. California is not known for its fall color, but I have to say there were some mighty rich shades of orange and yellow dangling from the trees- persimmon, apricot, peach, and nectarine leaves. The tomato and basil rows were disked, and the lettuce, chard, and carrot rows were lush and untouched, while the navel oranges, ¾ turned, knew they were the next to go.

Not too much later, Annie and Claire, whose home from college for Thanksgiving, came driving up. It was funny to be greeting them at their own house. Jeff, who was unfortunately not able to join us, was meeting with Kendra Johnson of California Farmlink to finalize the easement plans. All girls tonight. We assembled a meal of spinach salad, cheese and crackers with quince preserves, some wine, and dark chocolate to top it off. We talked about the early days of the alternative food movement, which both Mom and Annie were actively involved in, and where it’s headed now (are we finally reaching the tipping point?). Annie shared stories of traveling the world farm by farm, and we reminisced on my first day working at market when all met. At the time I was just looking for a part-time summer job, and now two and half years later we’re sitting together at their kitchen table.

This was my last time to see Annie before I go home for Christmas break- I’ll be missing market this week for Thanksgiving, and the following week Jeff and Annie will be traveling to the East Coast. They are first headed to see Allison in Brooklyn, where she attends Pratt Institute, and then to Durham, NC where they will gather with the other “Five Farmers” (You may recall that in May, NPR broadcasted a series called “Five Farms” which followed five farmers in different regions of the US. The Center for Documentary Studies at Duke University, who made the program, is now bringing them all together to meet.) Luckily, Chuck will be there catching the action on film, so hopefully we will get to see a bit of that experience in the future. I know it’s not easy for them to leave the farm and can even be harder to go somewhere so different like New York City, but it should be good nonetheless- well, at least as long as it rains here in the valley.

I wish good times and safe travels to you all over this season!
If you want to check out the “Five Farms” series (five 1 hour pieces), go here: http://cds.aas.duke.edu/fivefarms/

Falling out of Summer

As I opened my pantry this morning, the stacks of home-canned tomato sauce came roaring at me. I glaze over them every day, but today I saw them beyond just their jar and contents- as a symbol of what has been and what is to come. Summer has slipped away; the days of tomato abundance, triple digit heat, dry air, and long hours are done. Some days I feel as if I just arrived back in Davis and others as if I never left. Where time goes, I don’t know, but at least there have been some hallmarks along the way to remember what’s happened these past two months. My work at the market with Good Humus has continued of course, only now it’s not just the Davis Farmers Market- it’s America’s Favorite Farmers Market. That’s right, America voted and Davis was the winner. There was a celebration one Saturday for which Annie spoke about the early days of when it all first started and how she hired the still long-running market manager. It was a proud moment for everyone, and I can’t say I’m a bit surprised that Davis won.
Now, market has begun to slow, and with dusk drawing earlier each day, Wednesdays are losing their summer zeal. The produce is changing with bits of summer harvest still hanging on and new things popping in each week: winter squash, root veggies, and greens in every shape and size- ah, the glories of year-round growing in California!
In order to stop and enjoy the change in seasons and what summer harvest has brought, there’s a tradition here to celebrate all that and more; it’s known as the Hoes Down Festival. But don’t be fooled by the name, as it is no time when the farmers actually put their hoes down. In fact, it’s “hoes up” for the Mains and the farmers of Full Belly Farm, where the event takes place. For 22 years they’ve put on this event that brings in 3-5,00 people each year. It’s one Saturday full of every farm craft, activity, music, dance and good eats you could imagine. It’s impossible to do it justice in words (I recommend visiting the website: www.hoesdown.org), but I will say that after 3 years of attending and helping before, during, and after the event I have witnessed the most amazing collaboration of farmers, families, and friends who pour out all their compassion and energy into making this event the best it can be. They are a special group of farmers that are not only gifted in tending the land but creating community – community around what our culture has progressively drifted away from over the past century: the farm. All I can say now is you must come next year! It’s always the first weekend in October- be a volunteer, camp out under the orchards, and enjoy a beautiful, fun-filled, awe-struck weekend in the Capay Valley. You won’t regret it.
So with Hoes Down behind us and the rain just beginning, I believe that Fall is actually here. Last week, the air was still stark and the ground was dry as bricks, but after two days of downpour and tumultuous winds, life is looking a little different in Yolo County. I’m seeing growth and life in places that have been dead and dormant over the summer drought. It’s funny here in California, as elsewhere in the country the vegetation is preparing for winter hibernation. But no matter where we are one thing we can all do is look at our jars full of summer’s creation and be thankful for the cycles of bounty and regression, and then just think of warm tomato soup…

Screening The Last Crop's WIP in Central Valley and Bay Area

Hello Everyone,

It has been a very good week to ten days. I am getting ready to drive to Somoma State University for our 4th screening of our new work-in-progress (WIP) this week. Slow Food Sonoma State University's students are hosting a Northern California Slow Food Gathering from 12-5PM. Our screening follows the event at 5:30.

It all started with a evening screening at the 22nd Annual Hoes Down Festival held at Full Belly Farms in Guinda, CA on 10/3 . On Tuesday the 6th, we had a brown bag lunch screening at the CA Department of Food where Annie and Jeff Main spoke directly with Secretary A.G. Kawamura. Later that afternoon, we had a great screening and talkback session with 70 Sacramento State University students of the Environmental Student Organization at the university's Hinde Auditorium. Another 100 people attended our Friday night screening at the Senior Davis Performing Arts Building hosted by Slow Foods Yolo and the Davis to Farm Connection.

The response to our WIP has been very positive. The feedback has been constructive and appreciated.


We have another busy week of screenings coming up with a requests to screen our WIP at:
Land Trust Alliance (national) Rally
Portland Convention Center
Tues Oct 13 in the "Working Lands" - "When Conservation Easements Aren't Enough"...

And

Davis Senior High School's - Agriculture Department

Followed by screenings at the San Francisco School of Digital Filmmaking - hosting San Francisco Slow Foods members on 14th and with Slow Food Russian River on the 15th.


Stay tuned for next week's news.
Best

Chuck

Reflecting on TN, CA, and a little bit of in between

I just had my last day working on Williams Island Farm, and as I sit here in the humid air with billowy clouds above me sad to leave the farm and people I love yet anticipating what’s ahead of me back in California, I’m comforted and restored by what I’ve seen and been a part of this summer. You might expect that after working on a farm for two months in the middle of the summer I would be burnt, sore, itchy, and just plain tired. But, in fact, that is not the case at all- I’m hopeful, energetic, and ready to progress (and well, still a little itchy). I’ve learned a lot, done a lot, seen a lot, thought a lot, and guess what? so to have many others- all over the country. It’s like I’m this microcosm of a greater thing- that thing being the Food Movement and a resurgence of young new farmers. I’m now convinced it’s a movement. For a while I was unsure, but now I’ve been from one coast to the other and seen it for myself. People are learning and caring about food and change is happening. When I left for college in 2007, I knew of two organic farms serving the Chattanooga area and now I can easily name seven, though I know there are more. Community gardens are popping up left and right; just a few weekends ago there was an open-house community garden tour including churches, schools, food banks, and neighborhoods. This isn’t just a boogie, white, upper-middle class fad. Issues such as food deserts, food insecurity, and farmland preservation are being addressed. I read the statistics all the time- farmers markets, CSA’s, farm internships are higher than ever but now I’ve seen it for myself.

This doesn’t mean, however, that I can just sit back and watch the change happen. I’m definitely aware that this movement has long strides to make. It’s easy to get caught up in a bubble of the reality that I want to see, yet it doesn’t take much to realize how the majority is living. Just the other day I took a little visit to a Wal-Mart grocery store with a friend who shops there. I went in with a fresh and observant eye and was quickly reminded of the food that most Americans have access to and choose to buy. My Wall-Mart reality check got me thinking: just as I can go about anywhere in the US and find a Wal-Mart with buggies full of sugared cereals, frozen entrees, and fat-free everything, I too can find farmers markets with cloth bags full of summer’s bounty, artisan cheese, and fresh baked bread. But while Wal-Marts (or whatever corporate food chain there is) are the same everywhere, farmers markets are anything but the same. Yeah maybe you can find squash, tomatoes, and melons anywhere this time of year, but they aren’t the same. Each place, each farm, each product has a different story.

For this reason, I love to change where I’m living. By periodically migrating, I’m able to appreciate each place more while at the same time thinking of ways to improve them. At the first glance, two places seem fairly different, but over time similarities start popping out. I love both Davis and Chattanooga- the landscapes, markets, people, and food- for they each have their own unique flavor yet share similar values and hopes for their communities. There’s a connection, an unknown relationship, and it’s not just between these two communities- like I said earlier, it’s happening all over the country. Sometimes it just takes getting out a little bit to realize.

In honor of my love for both these places, I invited the Island women farmers, Beth and Ashley, over to share with them a taste of my experience working with Annie. We prepared a delicious Mediterranean meal of homemade falafels, dolmas, sauces, and Island veggies. The highlight of the evening, however, was teaching them how to make dried flower wreaths like Annie’s. I had been talking these wreaths up all summer long. Though we certainly don’t have the variety that Annie does, we did our best collecting what we had throughout the summer- straw flowers, yarrow, wheat, dogwood buds, and laurel branches. Since I had attended one of Annie’s wreath workshops (which luckily I sent my wreath home so we could have it as an example), I had an idea of what we were doing. At first they were doubtful, but as their wreaths slowly filled out the women were amazed with their efforts. As we continued making our wreaths, I showed them pictures from the Davis Farmers Market- in particular Annie’s flower bouquets, wreaths, and vegetable displays. They were both shocked and inspired by the variety, the bounty, and the beauty. They kept asking, “And Jeff and Annie do all this?” They have help, but yes, they are renaissance farmers. The evening ended in the best way possible. We had apricot tart (with the Good Humus apricots that I brought home and froze) and watched the latest cut of The Last Crop. For them to see the Mains in all their hard work and to hear their words was indescribable; it brought out emotions in me I didn’t even know I had. I think they were not only inspired as farmers but also assured that I was returning to good people in California. In sight, sound, taste, and touch I was able to share my California farmers with my Tennessee farmers. I can’t imagine a better way to end my summer.

With that said, I’m headed back to Davis in just a few days and will be working at the market and going to classes soon. I’m grateful for what I’ve learned and gained from being in Chattanooga but excited for what lies ahead. There’s a lot happening in this country with food issues and I’m ready to jump on. I hope that wherever you are you can appreciate the community you have and then take a step back and see your place and effort as a piece of this greater network. I think you will be amazed- but don’t get caught just watching.

Farm Life in Tennessee- Island Style

Hello all!It’s been awhile since I last wrote, so I have lots to catch you up on. I’ve been working on the Williams Island Farm back home in Chattanooga, Tennessee for about a month now. I’m absolutely loving it and learning more than I ever imagined. I’m learning not only about what it takes to grow great vegetables and raise healthy animals but also what it takes to do all of that on an island, the challenges and joys all included. The farm consists of twenty acres, of which five are cultivated, one-hundred chickens, twenty sheep, four farmers, three interns, and five to eight volunteers a week.
One of the best things about working out here is that all of us come together bringing our various experiences to make this farm what it is, and my experience working with the Mains seems to continually be of use- everything from making dried-flower wreaths to organizing the cash box at market. I think of Annie all the time, especially on Wednesdays when we go to market; I now know that getting to market- the planning, harvesting, washing, packing, driving- is more work than most people are cut out for. My appreciation for and amazement of Annie continues to grow even when I’m 2,500 miles away. Just about everything I do, I think to myself: I wonder how Jeff and Annie do this?
Though it is hard to describe exactly what I’ve been experiencing, here’s a recollection of one of my days (actually just half a day). I hope it gives you a taste of Tennessee island farming. 

It’s 7:15 Tuesday morning. The others have just crossed the river, and there are no more canoes left. I make a call and then wait to be picked up. With my few minutes to spare, I sit on the concrete boat ramp and soak in the beauty around me. In front of me is the calm water of the Tennessee River and beyond in all directions are giant green hills (often called mountains) completely covered in forest of all shades. Coming down the river gorge is a light fog from the humid summer night. The sky is not yet clear and the sun is only beginning to crack through and heat the damp air. There’s a stillness around me, yet I know it’s about to all break loose. A fish leaps into the air, the birds chirp loader, and a cluster of ants pace by my feet. The canoe arrives, and I know it’s time to start my day.We paddle across the 200-yard stretch, pull the boat out of the water, and set it on its side under some trees. We make our way through the cleared path, over roots, under weeping trees, and pass the “Williams Island Farm” sign hand painted in white letters against a royal blue background. Continuing through another path knocking down spider webs from the night, we finally make it to the kitchen. The kitchen has many functions- it’s not just where we cook and eat, it’s where we rest, talk, read, and just gather together. Once at the front, I slip my dusty Chacos off my feet and walk through the kitchen to the other side where I hang my backpack on a bent nail. Just above the row of nails is the almighty white board- it’s the never-ending list of things to do. Most mornings I take a few minutes to study it, talk priorities over with everyone, and then plan out our day’s work, but today is a harvest day and I’m already late, so I pass the board without a glance. I run out to the field to meet the others.They are just beginning to gather boxes and containers to collect the harvest in. We walk over to the spring garden. Though it’s early July, the spring vegetables are still hanging on. Most mornings there’s about six or seven of us on the farm, but today we have some volunteers. We divide up, some in pairs, each taking a vegetable. I take chard. I count out twenty-five rubber bands stretching them over my wrist, still red and swollen from yesterday’s ant bites. I start on one end of the row, pick a few leaves, and estimate how many bunches I think I can get. The plants are looking rough; this will probably be the last week to harvest it. I think I can stretch it and get twenty-five bunches. That will be enough for the fourteen CSA shares that pick up on Wednesday and some to sell at market. It’s always difficult to estimate what will sell - one week chard flies and the next it sits and wilts. Eleven bunches should surely sell. At first I notice bumps on the stems and holes in the leaves, but before long my mind drifts and I make my way down the row- sorting, picking, bunching- all in a sort of rhythm. I make it to the end and use the last rubber band; my estimate was right. I pack the box of chard in the mule making sure it’s still in the shade. There’s a crew pulling out the carrots and then a few finishing up on kale, arugula, cabbage, and beets. I check in with the others first before heading over to the Elder garden, where our summer crops are planted. Someone else has already started on the sungold tomatoes. I grab a basket and head to the peppers. They are just beginning to turn red, so I get what I can not wanting to reap those that still have potential to sweeten. With room left in the basket, I gather what I can find from the sickened cucumber and squash plants. My basket is full.We reconvene in the kitchen. I fill a mug with water and take a seat. It’s mid morning, and we are doing well. As others return to harvest, I man the washing station. First, I turn the generator on, ceasing the quiet serenity, and then proceed with the hose. The chilled well water, splashing my hand, makes me shiver as mud runs off my fingers. I dump the box of chard in, give it a good soaking, shake each bunch, and place them back in the box. As I proceed with the rest of the greens, two others are washing and bunching the carrots. How quickly they change from long brown sticks to shiny orange deliciousness. I scamper over and bite into a fallen carrot. Yum! Still crunchy and sweet, but I can tell the summer heat is starting to take the best of them.
By noon, we have finished with harvest. Of course, there will still be some things to get last minute tomorrow before market but for now this will do. We pack the mule high with boxes, buckets, and crates full of fresh produce. Noah turns the key. The starter’s shot. He tries again. Third time’s the charm. I find a spot and squeeze in. We drive down the path going over roots and big holes slowly and with ease. Once at the dock, we unload everything out of the mule to the dock then from the dock to the motor boat. Everything fits and I find a spot to sit. We try the motor but somehow water has leaked into the gas. So we row. As an unexperienced rower, I get a short lesson from Noah and then give it a go. For his every one stroke, it takes me two or three- so much for unison. Twenty minutes and many zig-zags later, we make it to the other shore. We jump out and begin unloading onto the dock. Noah brings the truck down, and we load from the dock to the truck. I climb aboard the old Ford and close the passenger door with a rickety bang. Noah chain locks the boat to a post, but the lock is rusted, so he ties it tight and hopes it’s still there when we return.
We drive down the gravel road, as rabbits and squirrels dodge the tires, and then approach the paved road- the smooth roll of the tires contrasts the roaring diesel engine. It’s a different world on the “other” side. Stop lights, fast cars, people with places to be. After about an eight minute drive we pull into an industrial site. Down by the river in an abandoned lot there sits an old ice cream truck- that’s our walk in refrigerator. We back the truck up to the fridge door. I climb in the back and hand off each box to Noah as he packs them into the cold fridge. With the last box, I step in to get a cold shock and see how much space is left. Just enough to take a nap, I think to myself. Before anymore cold air is lost, we lock it up, get in the truck, and journey back to the island. When we arrive, the table is set, everyone is gathered, and lunch is ready. Ah, a moment to restore and relax!

Unofficially, today concludes the second year of my working with the Mains. I’m leaving now to go back home to Tennessee- but just for the summer. As I reflect on my experience in Davis the past two years, I can’t imagine what it would have been like with out working at the market with the Mains. In fact, I think many people in the community would say the same- that is the Mains mean a lot to many. Just the other day, I was at a retirement party, and Jeff and Annie, who were there, were honored for the work they do to provide us with food. Just recently, there was a program on NPR called “Five Farms” which Good Humus was featured as one of the five American farms. It is absolutely incredible to listen to (www.fivefarms.org). Being aired on national radio has now spread the Mains magic beyond the Northern California region.
Being on the radio is certainly not the only exciting thing happening these days. It’s June now and that means apricots! Jeff and Annie are known for their Royal Blenheim Apricots. It’s an heirloom variety that is hardly grown anymore because of it’s delicate shelf life, but just taste one of these little guys and you’ll never want to eat another kind of apricot again. Being from Tennessee, I didn’t grow up eating apricots, but once I tasted these they quickly my favorite summer fruit (well, that is second to melons). I have a developed a particular method to eat them: I hold it with one thumb on each side of the rib and then slowly pull it apart. If it’s good and ripe the top will break apart easily and even but the bottom will be lush and juicy and will ooze as I pull it apart. I first eat the half without the pit and then follow it with the other half. There’s a rich complexity to the fruit: the top has a slightly sour flavor and crunchy texture while the bottom is smooth and creamy with the taste of floral honey lingering on your tongue that only makes you want to eat another (and another and so one until it’s too late- oh, the dangers of standing with fresh fruit at hands reach for seven hours).
When we were packing up after market on Wednesday, it suddenly hit me that my apricot season was going to be cut short this year- I was going to have to say goodbye that night. But then there was a flat leftover and the thought came to me: why don’t I just take these home to Tennessee with me? So, I did it- I carried them on the flight, ate a few as a snack, gave a few away (great conversation starter), and greeted my parents with my arms full of California goodness! Now, I get to share the Main’s magic with my own family and friends at home. In some ways having the apricots and sharing them with others eases the pain of having to leave the Good Humus stand for two months, but only as long as I still have the apricots, which won’t be long.
Fortunately, I don’t have to wait a year, like I do for the Royal Blenheims, before I’ll be back with the Mains. Until September, I’ll be staying in Chattanooga working on a small farm learning as much as I can. I look forward to comparing agriculture in TN and CA and getting a better hands-on feel for what’s happening in the food movement across the country. I’ll be sure to document it along the way and let you know how it goes.
Until then, be sure to get an apricot before it’s too late (and eat an extra for all of those who can’t get them)! And no worries cause peaches and nectarines are just around the corner…