Farms & Gardens

As a kid growing up in Minneapolis, I remember early spring as that time of year when the days were longer, the snow was disappearing, and I was allowed to play outside again all day long. The most fun was getting the huge pack of neighborhood kids organized for softball games, to play “kick the can,” or just ride around on our bikes. With all of these options, it didn’t take much effort to get me outside; in fact it was much more difficult to get me back indoors at the end of the day.

As time went by, that wonderful, playful era passed and I grew up, went to college, joined the ranks of the corporate world, got married, bought a house in the suburbs, and became a serious-minded adult. I retreated to the indoors during the cold months and when the snow receded in the spring, I looked out my window and only saw was an ugly, dirty yard awaiting attention – the kind that I just didn’t want to give it

I admonished myself last summer, as I canned tomatoes for days at a time, that I would certainly not need this many tomatoes! Well, I realize now that I was just tired of canning. This week, as I find myself heading down to the pantry, staring at shelves that used to be well-stocked, but are now almost empty, I'm reminded that, at these latitudes, March is the hardest month to eat local.

Yes, there are still plenty of root vegetables available. But who isn't tired of potatoes, parsnips, celeriac and beets by now? As for everything else, it's just too early. Last week, there was still snow in my yard, and nothing but mold, as far as I know, grows in the snow.

Whether as a byproduct of fiscal necessity or a desire to have a hand in what winds up on the family's dinner plate, the act of growing fruits and vegetables at home has recently returned to its rightful status as a revered American pastime. As the homegrown revolution continues to spread, many gardeners are branching out from mass-produced, highly disease-resistant hybrid plants to open-pollinated heirlooms.

The sheep were looking quite sheepish.

Last Saturday was Shearing Day Gale Woods Farm and though the animals in question were none too pleased, the children watching intently were delighted as the shearer wielded his clippers with gentle efficiency while piles of wool gathered at his feet. Later, the young visitors moved from the barn to the activity room, where staff and volunteers demonstrated how wool that just a short time before adorned the sheep was spun into yarn and woven into fabric. As parents and kids practiced "carding" (brushing the wool fibers) and made felted crafts to take home, others enjoyed a delicious sampling of farm-grown lamb, served on warm pita and topped with tomatoes and a refreshing yogurt sauce.

There is a steady wet drizzle and a thick coat of fog covering the road as I drive southwest from Minneapolis to Cedar Summit Creamery just outside of New Prague. It is, in other words, the perfect, sloppy, late-winter day to visit a farm.

A couple of weeks ago, I spent a day at the largest annual organic farming conference in the US, held just two hours away from the Twin Cities, in LaCrosse, Wisconsin. The Midwest Organic and Sustainable Education Service (MOSES) conference provided a glimpse into the zeitgeist of today’s organic movement. Although organic food is fully integrated into the marketplace and can be found everywhere from Cub Foods to The Wedge, the small farmers who make up the backbone of the movement don’t lack for revolutionary fervor. They’re still driven by a passion to change the world.

For years, I would see a vegetable like okra or mustard greens in a grocery store and imagine what it would be like to make a delicious meal with such exotic ingredients. I was constantly promising myself that next week I would find recipes to fulfill my culinary fantasies. But as the weeks passed, it became obvious that I needed something else to get my creativity going. Fortunately, my fiancé knows me incredibly well, and he gave me a CSA subscription as a gift.

Most of the buzz about grass-fed cows focuses on their lean and flavorful meat. But what about their milk?

Making butter and cheese from the milk of grass-fed cows is a lot like making a varietal wine. This is not the plonk composed of a crushed mixture of grapes from a bunch of different vineyards. No, grass-fed milk offers terroir, a sense of place, and the courage to actually taste like something.

As a 20-year marketing professional living in the Twin Cities, going to the grocery store used to be all business. I had my list of items to get, but I also made it a habit to take note of product packaging, shelf placement, and displays before heading to the checkout.

In 2000, that all changed when my husband and I bought a 172-acre farm and moved 70 miles north to Mora, Minnesota. Here, we established our certified organic farm where we grow apples, plums, and veggies; and we produce maple syrup each spring. I have also joined the incredibly fascinating world of beekeeping.

Lots of buzz at last week’s Midwest Organic and Sustainable Education Service (MOSES) conference surrounded a rather astonishing development in the organic world: the U.S. Department of Agriculture had finally done something, well, good.

After five years of debate, on February 17, the USDA had amended the standards for organic milk to reflect what most consumers thought “organic” meant in the first place. So now (or at least by June 2011, when the amended standards take effect for all suppliers) when people buy milk labeled “organic,” they’ll be getting what they paid for.