In Praise of Produce--ers
In Praise of Produce-ers
It’s hard to imagine eating our own grass-finished, one-cow hamburgers without being covered by a thick slice of Brandywine tomato, Vidalia onion, mixed greens and garnished with my wife’s homemade salsa. This summertime, sun-infused delicacy is usually accompanied by a spinach salad with crumbled bacon and eggs, roasted corn, smashed garlic baby red potatoes, and fresh yellow beans smothered in butter. It’s really all I can think about in light of Mr. Frost diminishing our garden into a pile of brown leaves and dead vines. This killing allowed the pumpkins and winter squash to finally get their chance to shine after hiding under the sea of foliage all summer. As I collected some seasoned corn stalks to decorate the fence, pulled up the tomato baskets and put all the garden hoses and tools back in the barn, I looked out over the garden remnants and thought, man this produce growing was hard work!
I say that because while I am adept at managing livestock on pasture, I am but an infant when it comes to growing vegetables. I dare say that cultivating a bounty of produce is similar to Michelangelo painting a picture, it’s just plain beautiful when all the seeds and soil brushed by a farmer’s hand, come together to create this delicious mosaic. If only I could do this. For me, it’s sort of like trying to play an electric guitar, about all the music I can muster comes from the air variety.
This green thumb challenge has not deterred me from trying however. It helps that my wife and I have a friendly competition of who has the better garden. It’s hardly a contest; she is a very conscientious gardener with her own 30x30 patch of finely manicured rows of heaven, which always receive accolades from visitors to the farm. I have a testosterone induced, machismo oriented, half acre jungle highlighted by a patchwork of poor man’s raised beds, ugly rows and black plastic surrounded by a fence line that harbors thistles, burdocks, and vermin eagerly awaiting a crop. This is actually a step up in quality from previous years.
This year was going to be different! I armed myself with knowledge from the PASA conference and consulted with Brian and Amy (Lords of the Salad Greens) from Alambria Springs Farm. They have this natural ability and a certain Midas touch to grow the finest veggies I have ever seen or tasted. Surely their influence would make me into a first class produce-er. My friend Steve tilled last years quagmire into a nice seedbed only after I picked all the rocks, pieces of steel and baling twine out of this once farm catch all area. I got the back blade out and made some impromptu raised beds and proceeded to lay the plastic down on the space where I would grow the tomatoes, cucumbers and summer squash. Oh yes, this was going well.
Spoke too soon! Late frost killed 50% of the tomato seedlings my wife meticulously nurtured in the kitchen. I had to replant with green house stock. The sweet corn is up, however with the cold spring only about 6 plants per row actually showed. I also replanted. Beans doing ok minus some bite marks. Of course the raised beds did well since I planted radishes, lettuce, broccoli, escarole and spinach which would probably grow in any medium. At least it was a confidence booster. I was going to beat the cucumber beetle this year by covering up the plants with row covers and growing them in 5 gallon buckets. By the end of June I was feeling good about the progress and being ahead of the weeding.
Then it started to rain, and rain, and rain some more, which incidentally helped grow a bumper crop of weeds and happy, hungry bugs. This period also coincided with lots of farm and conservation district work. I was losing the battle but determined to win the war. Since my holistic buddies said I should keep the ground covered with litter, I got my weed eater out and proceeded to mow down my arch nemesis while trying to spare the preferred plants from the string line. From there I became Troy sissor-hands and pruned the “mators” way back and staked them like Brian advised me to do. After many weeks of this exhausting activity, the garden actually looked like something again. Meanwhile my wife’s plot chugged right along like clockwork as usual.
We ate well, froze many Ziplock bags of veggies and canned 80 quarts of tomatoes before the dreaded blight turned all my vision of grandeur into a slimy mush. Combine that with a pesky skunk that helped himself to the juicy pumpkins, corn and squash and I have to wonder, why do I go through this every year? I visited Alambria Springs Farm a few times this summer and they hardly missed a beat providing bushels of succulent fruit to their CSA patrons. I guess it’s time to rethink or retool my truck farming practices once again.
After another year of losing face to my “queen snipper” wife and realizing how much dedication it takes to grow these highly touted heroes of the food pyramid, I have come to really appreciate the hard working men and women of the fields and greenhouses. The passion to care for these delicate plants and market them to the masses is nothing short of sheer star-power. For those that discount the importance of vegetable farmers, try growing an acre of produce and sustaining a livelihood on the fruits of your labor without government subsidies. It’s no easy task.
I will honor my local produce-“ers” and their heritage to feed a community in an upcoming harvest dinner. It will be a dining delight to enjoy grass-finished beef paired with a vegetable medley of butternut squash, greens and a dollop of horseradish. Creating this awesome eating experience celebrates the diversity that is agriculture. In the words of Astrid Alauda, “Did you ever stop to taste a carrot? Not just eat it, but taste it? You can't taste the beauty and energy of the earth in a Twinkie”. Published in Lancaster Farming 10/24/2009