riverbend farm

It’s a common refrain that people have become disconnected from the food they eat, the migration from country to city leading people away from farm fresh produce and towards frozen, ready-made dinners. 

And while visiting a farmer’s market is one way to get closer to the source, another movement taking shape locally and around the country is trying to take people a step further: crop mobbing. 

Crop mobbing – shed the dictionary definition you know – is a term used to describe any group that flocks to a farm to help get a specific task accomplished. 

The parks are closed and it is that time of year to take a road trip. Sure, you could go to Wisconsin or the Dakotas, but consider this: a weekend full of farm tours, small towns, rivers and lakes. Let me be your tour guide (something I am in no way qualified to do, by the way) as I point out the myriad possibilities presented by the "Eat Local Farm Tour".

Last Sunday night's Earth Day Community Dinner at the Birchwood Cafe was an event for the ages.

It wasn't just the food that made it that way, although the exceptional four-course menu (and appetizers) created by chef Marshall Paulsen featured pork belly, fiddle head ferns, beef tongue, and more (most foods purchased directly from local farmers). It wasn't just the music performed by Jack Klatt and the Cat Swingers either, although that was terrific too. It wasn't just the lovely dining room, which was decked out with the Birchwood's Sunday best.

UPDATED TO INCLUDE MENU, BELOW

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Last week, I wrote that Simple, Good, and Tasty would be co-hosting our first-ever Earth Day Community Dinner with our experienced, local-food loving friends at the Birchwood Cafe. This week, I'm excited to fill in a few of the details.

When I ask Nicole Barron and Irfan Chaudhry from the Minneapolis Public Schools Food Service Department how parents can help support their efforts to improve the food in Minneapolis Public Schools, the frustration in their voices is obvious. "Be patient," they tell me, "and get the facts before jumping to conclusions. Be open to being wrong in your assumptions, and try to see the change that's happening."

Well before "eating local" became a mainstream mantra for conscientious food lovers everywhere, Seward Co-op in Minneapolis has nurtured this philosophy for years by establishing long-lasting relationships with local growers and producers, and providing customers with easily accessible information about the people and places behind the food that they buy.

A few weeks ago, I declared June 26 "Signal Free Saturday," an opportunity to put down our cell phones, laptops, PDAs, and iPads and look our loved ones directly in the eye for the first time in weeks, months, or years. I was excited for the excuse to give my wife my full attention, rather than the usual 50 percent. I was excited to play with my kids without wondering if something more interesting was in my email. Work be damned, I was going to be free!

Only it turns out that giving up the phone is more complicated than that - or at least that's how it felt to me. Here's how it went:

When I was asked whether I was interested in doing a profile on “local legend” Jenny Breen, I jumped at the chance. I didn’t know who Jenny was, but with a name like that – so lyrical and fresh – I knew I wanted to meet her. Jenny Breen, Jenny Breen. She sounded like a lass some lovelorn Irishman might sing about. She sounded like a lady who might know her way around a garden, might even wear a tiara made out of snap peas and scallions, carrots and asparagus. Yes, I said. Yes, I would very much like to write a profile on this local legend cooking lady with a crown of veggies.

Award winner Tracy Singleton from the Birchwood Cafe and Danny Schwartzman from Common RootsLast night's Common Roots event combined many of my favorite things: delicious local, seasonal fare; presentations from some of the Twin Cities most forward thinking food experts; and the chance to connect with old and new friends in our community who share a commitment to good food that comes directly from the farmer.

Friends, the time has come. We laughed. We cried. (Okay, mostly we cried.) We shared great stories and strong feelings. We ate lunch with our kids and lived to tell engaging stories about the terrific lunch ladies (and cook managers) in our schools; our country's restrictions, policies, and prices; and how much ranch dressing you can put on a piece of pizza.