bfm summer farm tour

Whoa, I knew I've been a slacker on posting, but damn, apparently, I've taken all of June off. Well, now I can comfortably tell you a bit about our 2010 BFM Summer Farm Tour:

So there we were, in the rain shadow of Mt. Diablo with Farmer Al out in his cherry orchard, talking about pheromone confusion tactics as a means of battling pests. Pointing out the cards in the trees, he explained how they emit female pheromones for several months time. (Sound expensive? Try $100 bucks an acre!) This means, that when the bad-boy bugs (literally) come in to mate, they home in on the female scent and before they know it whammo! find themselves spooning up next to this pretty white card. Maybe not exactly like described, but it must work here at Frog Hollow, because as their saying goes, it is home to legendary fruit.

I found myself oddly attracted to these white cards. I wanted to climb up into the tree and spoon up next to one, where I could hang out with the guys and gorge myself sick on cherries. Then I snapped out of my daydream and we had shifted gears, now talking how dwarf root stock was used. Prone to blowing over when mature, they thrive and produce a more reachable bumper crop. We moved on again, touring two "newer" varieties of early apricot (Apache and Kettleman) on our way back to command central.

Becky greeted us outside her magic kitchen. The fruit coming straight off the farm may be legendary, but it still takes an enormous amount of work to properly preserve the yummiliciousness of it all. Well, not all, as they sell the same varieties to the public. Still, certain varieties of favorites are immediately turned to jam. However, there is far too much fruit to make into jam at once, so a lot gets dipped into citric acid and frozen for a later date with this jamtastic cauldron. Have you tried their preserves? Wow! And the pastries? Oh my lord! Brilliant.

Lucero knows strawberries. Out here in the middle of the Central Valley, looking out at a second-year field of berries and listening to Ben, his quiet charm reminded me of yoda. He described past-pest problems and laughed. He mentioned that his favorite tractor, as old as he is, fires up right away. Then he turned the key for us and grinned. He pointed out how his berries still have their umbilicus. His partner Karen and son Curtis exhibited similar takes on the same light-heartedness and down-home kindness. Genuine. Hearing about their hopes of expanding, they pointed out the dire need for more available organic farmland. I wanted to somehow go get some and give it to these guys.

Walking through the oasis next to their home, they told of how depending on the time of year, you can meander through the bamboo and pick various fruit. Just at the bench here, you could reach up to a loquat, behind you to a pomegranate, take a few steps across the path to a fig. Our group wandered on, hearing something I surely missed, while I lingered another moment here, letting the serene scene pull me in. Calming indeed. Bound to help balance the work involved in nurturing, harvesting, and bringing such great produce to market.

At the first toes of the foothills, on the edge of the Central Valley, Jon and Cleizene Smit, much like their land, continue to evolve. After decades of being dairy farmers, they are now on their third decade of fruit farming. At a point in their lives where most folks are being taken care of by their own kids, these two are clearly still in charge of the family business. Having recently cleared a large plot with a ridiculously large bulldozer (a D-10 with 6 foot teeth for breaking up some of the hard-pan), we saw this little rig out digging holes. They grow a huge amount of apples here, yet they still have a need for more. And with their love and hard study, within 2 or 3 years, you'll see apples at the market from the trees that will fill these empty holes.

We made it over to the old milking parlor, and discovered it's modern usage. Converted to cold storage, and juice production, it now turns out a different liquid than milk. No animals involved, yet something is still getting squeezed inside. What you see here is a belt juicer. It "presses" apples by running them between two oppositely traveling belts. I'd love to see this baby run. Ever tried their cider? Mmmm. Fine stuff there. Treated correctly, it makes for some fine hard cider too.

We heard of trials with tree spacing, branch configuration and shape, trellising, and more of the miraculous dwarf root stock. And that was only apples. With cherries and grapes, pluots and who knows else up their sleeves, the Smits are a fine example of a couple who have divided the burden of work and knowledge evenly, and thrive. Sharp. I hope I'm half as spry and with it as these two when I reach their age. Wait, I'd be better off than now.

Leaving the farm, they offered up some paper bags and told us to go pick some cherries if we wanted. We loitered in the orchard awhile, gorging and picking. When someone mentioned they were beginning to feel greedy, we piled in the cars. The ride home went smoothly, and without delay we arrived a short pound and a half of cherries later.


Hope you enjoyed. For previous Berkeley Farmers' Market field trips, check out:
2009
2008
2007

poached scramble with gifted speck

It's been nearly two weeks since the last BFM. I'm going through severe withdrawal. Without fresh veggies, my skin turns ashen, the gray at the temples becomes more pronounced, and I want to sleep more. And it's not just me. The kids get cranky that the broccoli doesn't taste the same as usual. My partner points out that the store bought tofu tastes like the reason why people don't like tofu.

But then, I was rescued. I went to B's house to mix up 100 gallons of persimmon glop for the latest, crazy, fermentation based, hair-brained idea and came home with some wild collected fungus. We still had a few market eggs left over after all the holiday cookie making. Then G-dog came over with some Nueske's bacon yesterday morning and it all came together. It was a fantastic way to start the year.

Now, today, I get on my bike and ride to the market......YEAH!

Oh, and happy 2010!

pick-up truck

My pick-up truck. I can haul all sorts of stuff home on it. In particular, I enjoy pedaling home with the bartered bounty from the farmers' market. I bring various fermented goods (english muffins, beer, cider) and as was the case here (August '08), came home with not only food but also building materials. I was in need of bamboo (at least, in theory) for my garden projects. At first, I wasn't sure how I'd get the bundle of eight foot lengths on my truck, but some careful bungee work made for a solid haul. Not wanting to challenge other bikes to a jousting contest, I made my way slowly home among quieter streets. I was so proud arriving, I asked for a photo.

The following month, there was a clearance sale on soybeans. They were cheap! With a beer involved, I think they were a buck a plant. I brought ten home. It was not unlike lurking behind a hunting blind. (The perspective is bad here, but riding home at 5+ feet in width, I made sure to ride way out in the middle of the lanes.) Testing my camouflage, I took busier streets. It was a breezy day and the plant stems blew all this way and that. It brought back thoughts of having a sling-shot as a kid. It was so much fun, I took a picture when I got home.

The beginning of August this year found the farmers' market once again overflowing with fruit and veggies. Well, it was overflowing before that, but by August, the seems burst and if you are around when things close up at the end of the night, you might find yourself coming home with 20 pounds of tomatoes, 20 pounds of peaches, a cooler with a few pounds of tofu, cheese, leftover thai food, and a canvas bag of various veggies. Overall haul was near 80 pounds, including a backpack not pictured.

Then, this load. Damn. I think it took me twenty minutes just to get it strapped on my truck. Requiring no less than five bungee cords, two panniers, two plastic milk crates, and one small wooden crate. 60+ pounds at least, but fluffier than the last load. I made sure to check all the bolts on my racks before taking off. Making it home, safely, yet again, I took a moment to be thankful for my able-bodied-ness in regularly bringing such stuff to it's temporary home, where it will be ingested and recycled, turning into fuel to pump my legs back to the market.

I love my truck.

one hot perspective (BFM summer farm tour 2009)

I live in such a mild climate, my home is completely devoid of insulation or air conditioning. When it hits the eighties we're feeling rather toasty. Nineties, oh my, where is that damned fog? One hundred plus? Are you kidding? That must be somewhere else. (Can you even breathe at those temps?) Well, a few weeks ago I had the fortune of surviving just such heat, while touring three of my favorite farms as part of the BFM Community Advisory Committee. The forecast high for the day was 109....

First stop: Full Belly (well into the nineties already)

Paul (one of four farm owners) greeted us and discussed many facets of keeping such a large organic farm operating. With over 200 acres in cultivation, this is an immense task that requires over fifty full-time, year-round employees. Diversity is the key here. It keeps pests in check, encourages native wildlife to thrive, enables a healthy population of natural pollinators (no hives are imported onto the farm) and means that there is never so much of a single crop that it has to be sold at a deep discount just to get rid of it before it rots. We began walking to see his words in action.

Passing the flower garden, we saw a youth group here for summer camp picking bouquets to take to market. Community involvement plays a large role on this farm and their CSA boxes reach a huge audience. Paul mentioned that a senior group comes and gets seconds from their storage. Then moving onto speaking about planning a fruit orchard, his words began drifting up and away from my ears with the heat. Sampling apricots, Paul pointed out that the day before was even hotter (about 115) and that some apricot pits get so hot that they scald the fruit. (Resulting in an internal bruise that is only witnessed by opening one up.) Stopping by a compost pile, discussing soil fertility and fauna, I was sure that my own pit was beginning to scald my cranial fruit. We made our way back to the shade, tanked up on water and headed down the road for a lunch date.

Second stop: Guru Ram Das Orchards (100+ at this point)

After turning down the wrong road, twice, we finally arrived at Didar's place. Collecting ourselves in his living room, enjoying the delicious air blowing from his swamp cooler, Didar told us about the early days of caring for his land. 20+ years ago he commuted from Reno every week to tend things, but nurturing was not how to describe it. He said it was more like just keeping things barely alive. But, despite the rough start and poor soils, his farm thrives. You see, orchards that have to struggle some, reward you with immense flavor and hardiness not ever seen otherwise. (As the finest grape growers in the world will tell you time and time again.) Should you then add copious quantities of love to the hardy, leafy creatures around you, you get fruit that is unparalleled.

After a delicious soup prepared for us, we took a brief tour before the promise of a dip in the pool. Didar pointed out that his orchard is designed on what has worked over the years and as older trees die or are damaged by wildlife (marauding deer wreak havoc on the nectarines as witnessed by this branch breakage) he often replaces them with a pomegranate that can withstand a few years of under watering. When it hits a few years old though, it shows off the hard earned deep roots and begins exuding health, fitting in nicely with the others. We ambled up and down a few more rows until it was obvious no one was concentrating on anything but getting in the pool. Walking the gentle hill back to the house, my brain felt as though it were beginning to melt it was so damn hot. Worried it might run out of my ear should I get in the pool, I opted to get supine in the shade beneath streamers of wingnuts. As what little breeze there was tickled my face, I heard laughs and hoots from the pool as folks took respite from the 105+ heat. The splashing water reminded me that I was getting dehydrated despite having consumed nearly a gallon of water already.

Third Stop: Riverdog (nearing 110?)

Using our puckered brains for guidance, we managed to find our final destination without getting lost. Trini greeted us with a smile and said she had to go get her dog. A fire had started up the valley a ways and as though Tim doesn't have enough to do already, he volunteers to contain and fight such things. He had the dog. A few minutes later, collected in the "cool" (mid 90's) packing area, we listened to future plans for a freezer on site and ventures into animal products. Getting to help scrub a few eggs with the new machine for such things, we learned about the chickens that rotate around the farm, adding pest control, fertilizer and about the yummiest eggs to be found. Seeing the mobile hen coups in a field of alfalfa, I was happy for these chickens, but convinced that the plume of smoke on the horizon was getting larger. Walking back to the shed, spontaneous combustion came to mind.

We piled into cars and drove down the road to go see one of Riverdog's newer ventures: pork. With shady pasture down by the creek amongst the oaks, these pigs have it good. (Well, until you kill them and eat them I suppose.) Seeing the veggie culls and seconds strewn around made me realize that these pigs eat the very same veggies I do. Literally. Add a diet rich in acorns and walnuts and these pigs are about as delectable as it gets. These "Riverhog" are showing up at local butcher shops with rave reviews. (Ask around or check out their Hog Blog.) This is some damn fine swine.

Somewhere before the pigs but after the melon field, my brain became so shriveled it fell out of my head. I managed to pick it up and put it in a zippered pocket though, and as we drove home (I should clarify, I was not driving) it began plumping up with fresh water and the cool air conditioning it would experience for the rest of the day. When we got back to Berkeley, it was at least 45 degrees cooler than our last stop. I could think better now.

With a new perspective on summer farming I wonder: How do they do it? Capay Valley farmers deal with extreme heat (bitter frosts as well) and having to get past the drunk gamblers attempting to pull into or stumblingly leaving the monstrosity on their way to market. These folks deserve our help.
Go.
Shop your local farmers' market.
Eat.
Repeat.......

For other years, check out:
BFM summer farm tour 2008
BFM summer farm tour 2007