Fresh From the Farm

There's nothing more exciting for a vegan than shopping at a local farm for an endless array of vegetables, berries, greens, and regional baked goods. I feel sorry for people living in a large city who can't get to a farm, even if they tried. In our area of southeast Massachusetts, we are blessed with many diverse, local farms. Because farm land in New England is so expensive, farms tend to be a lot smaller than mid western farms. Many of the farms in this area are beginning to experiment with certified organic produce, which can be an expensive venture. I remember attending a meeting with Dr. Henry Wainer from Sid Wainer and Sons Produce company. His company is very large and influential in the area, and his relationship with local farmers is a cornerstone of his overall success. He has tried for years to steer farmers away from low cash vegetables like zucchini, broccoli, and cabbage, and try unique vegetables that chefs like myself are always looking for: great tasting field greens, microgreens, unusual potatoes, baby vegetables, and hybrid berries. at work, we buy organic herbs, seasonal greens, and a myriad of miniature seasonal edible flowers. While I find the prices to be ridiculously high, the quality and shelf life of these items are unmatched by produce from a wholesale supplier.
When I was about 14, my best friend at the time was a kid named Kevin. His father owned a 40-acre farm in Rehoboth, Massachusetts (my hometown!). Kevin offered me a job working on his father's farm, and I accepted without hesitating. I recall the rate of pay being a whopping $2.50 per hour! I didn't take the job for the money (a theme that has haunted me just about every job I've ever had!), I was really interested in how food grows. The symbiosis between the weather, the land, the temperature, the sunlight. All of that fascinated me. What a sap I was, working on a farm proved to be extremely hard work! There was always something to do, whether it was feeding chickens, or weeding the spinach patch, or planting strawberries, zucchini, peppers, broccoli, onions, potatoes, and corn. I though it was cool that my friend Kevin, was allowed to drive a station wagon all over the property. It would be another two years before I could drive! But the station wagon was essential for getting us around the property. There was no time to waste! As soon as school let out, I was working 6 days a week from 6 am until 5 pm, with a 30 minute break for lunch. Kevin would always go in to the house to eat lunch with his parents and older brother Frank. I was left alone outside at the picnic table to eat my bag lunch. I was a fat kid in those days, very out of shape. Within a few weeks at the farm, I began losing weight, even though I was eating huge lunches. As the days got warmer, and we began harvesting the fruits and vegetables of our labor, the work got more and more grueling. I recruited my younger brother Steve to help us for a while, but as the middle of August approached, and the peppers and tomatoes were coming in, I had to quit. My Mother was becoming alarmed at how much weight I was loosing, and truth be told, I was getting sick of the long, hard days in the sun, dusty, always thirsty, and always tired. I think Steve quit a week after me. He was never one to sit in the sun for a long period of time! That ended my days on the farm, but not my love of food. It was enriching for my soul, even at that young age, to see the Old Man's truck loaded with cabbage, corn, potatoes, zucchini, and leeks. I remember cutting spinach with a knife the Old Man gave me. The handle was knurled and weather beaten, but the blade was sharp like a razor. I loved cutting big armloads of spinach at ground level and stuffing it into a wooden bushel crate. It was satisfying to take something from seed a few months earlier, and actually pick it for someone to buy and eat. That made me feel good as a young man.
Fast forward 35 years. Now I don't work in a farm, but I am more aware of the work that goes into quality produce, more so than many of the Chefs who work for me. I'm not sure if many of them would have lasted as long on the farm as I did, or even have any desire to see where a pepper comes from, or how painful picking zucchini and eggplant can be when you have to do a whole acre. I think I'm one of the last Chefs that I know of who can actually claim to have worked on a farm, and I'm proud of that.
Now when I go to a local farm stand, I am amazed at the varieties of produce the local growers are selling. Pattypan squashes in greens and yellows, zucchini shaped like small bowling balls. Yellow and purple heirloom tomatoes, ruby red baby carrots, red spinach, pea shoots, and microgreens, all available for big bucks. As I bring my selections to the counter, I think about the road I've traveled to get to this blog site. I think about eating a large warm strawberry that I just picked at my friend's farm, the sweet red juice running down my face and neck. I think about how my eyes rolled back in my head and said, "Oh my God, this is so good!" That's what keeps me going as a chef today, when the flavors of something unexpected explode in your mouth, and the experience brings you back to a time when you were younger and everything was simple pleasure. Today, when I visit a farm for organic produce, I think back to the summer of 1975, when my journey with food as a profession began.
Next article, farm recipes anyone can do, Vegan style!