La ville d'amour

I left Ocean City at 9:00, and one 4 hour Greyhound bus ride later I was in Baltimore. My aunt brought me back to her house where the farmer's daughter picked me up. She was a shy girl named Gemma with black curly hair. We got to know each other during the half-hour ride. We pulled up to a nice-looking farmhouse on a large property. Laura (the farmer) greeted us at the door. She was tall and thin with greying hair. Later Jon came home from teaching guitar lessons. He had blondish hair and a beard. His hair was scruffy in that retired rocker way. He was a quiet man with a sense of humor.

This farm is mostly a edible and medicinal herb farm. Laura sells herbal products online and at various farmers markets and Jon teaches guitar at a local music store. Gemma went to college for a year, but didn't like the school she went to so she's taking a year off this year. She and Laura just got back from their semester long trip to Greece where they WWOOFed.

Initially my reaction to this farm was "I'm home." Laura is very motherly and protective, and has similar traits to my mom. Jon is quiet and funny like my dad. All that was missing was an annoying younger brother. Instead I got an older sister. And by that I mean I got a friend. Tuesday morning Laura asked Gemma and I to look through her website where people can sign up for her CSA (she represents many different farmers in the area, and delivers the CSA for a commission). Sadly most of the people signing up were either scams or from places (like Australia) that were too far to deliver to (what part of "we deliver to people in Virginia" was unclear?). I went through hundreds of entries, and so did Gemma, and between us I came up with three people for Laura to add to her mailing list (one of whom's street address was a jumble of letters, leading me to suspect he was also a scam who got lucky with the town they picked to enter in). I enjoyed a lunch of pesto pasta made with lemon basil from their garden. It was delicious!

After lunch I was assigned the task of labeling lip balms accompanied by peach iced tea (made by Laura).

I tend to wake up about half an hour earlier than everybody else. At first I wasn't sure what to do with this time, but then I started waking myself up with an early morning yoga routine (yes, it usually includes sun salutations).

The next day (after my yoga practice) I baked pear muffins with Asian pears off their tree to sell at market. They were scrumptious. I also made two pie crusts, one for quiche (made with eggs from their chickens) and one for pear pie (recipe at sharinglaurel.blogspot.com). 

I was surprised and excited to see that Laura owned a Moosewood cookbook! I explained that Moosewood was in Ithaca and that it was still thriving.

That night we went to the Frederick county fair. We admired the baby ducks, rabbits and all assortments of feathery friends (chickens).

This one's Polish like me!

Next we hit the rides, convincing Gemma that the swings really weren't all that scary, and then going on Laura's favorite; the Ferris wheel.

I'd never been to an amusement park in the dark before. There's something breathtaking about all the lights.

The next day I baked my pear pie (yes, I did create the recipe) and I brewed iced tea to sell at market in glass jars.

We also packaged teabags and face powder. Then we hopped in the car and made a trip to Laura's friend Kevin's farm. He had a hugely producing farm that was entirely operated by himself. I couldn't believe the amount that one man could do. He had several greenhouses and two huge fields of vegetables. We picked up some swiss chard to plant in the garden.

Friday was market prep day. I baked chocolate chip banana zucchini muffins and Gemma baked pear ginger scones (using the secret family recipe). Then we spent the afternoon planting spinach in the garden. Gemma had her boyfriend over for dinner (for the first time). His name was Ben. He was a Jewish nerd. He left at 5am. For some reason Laura wasn't too happy about that.

Saturday we woke up bright and early to get off to market. We went to the market in Purceville. Almost immediately after we set up Laura realized that she had forgotten the iced tea and the pears that we were trying to sell (along with recipes). She decided to return home to get them, leaving me alone at the booth. Then she called to say that if she came back to the market she would just have to leave again in 30 minutes to get Jon and take him to his gig at a winery (Gemma had the other car at an audition). I spent most of market alone trying to field questions like "where is your honey from?" (Your guess is as good as mine, I'm from Ithaca, New York!) and "what is in this [herbal product]?" (Probably herbs.) Luckily Laura came back in time to help me pack up (and buy squash from a nearby vendor). Then she took me on a winery tour (without the wine tasting).

This almost felt like the hills in Ithaca.

We ended our trip in the winery that Jon was playing at. By that point it was raining heavily, so Jon was playing inside. This meant that we had to battle lots of noise and people to find a seat at a small table. I got a cream soda and Laura had a glass of wine as we listened to Jon amongst the wine tasters. Why is it that they make all tasting rooms the echoiest things since tunnels?

That night was an adventure. Right around 6:00 the power decided it was done for the night which led to my discovery that these people were quite unprepared for the zombie apocalypse. We could not find a single box of matches let alone a lighter, and the only candles we could find were tea candles. Plus at least half of their flashlights were broken. Luckily when Jon and Laura arrived they located a lighter, and we ate pizza by candlelight.

Sunday I went with Gemma to a different, further away market. We attempted to sell our various products (honey being the best seller). We met a cute guy who took our picture and bought some tea, and debated whether he was cuter than the gay couple who bought mini muffins. When the market was over we puttered around Middlebury, a small town near there. We stumbled upon a production of Into The Woods who's backstage was the sidewalk. They were on "Giants in the Sky." It made me miss home. When we got back I led Gemma in a yoga session.

Today was rather uneventful. Monday is usually their rest day after a weekend full of markets. I gave myself a facial with leftover powder.

I also roasted squash (including the seeds). Yum! We finished the night by eating chinese food and watching Bones (at my request).

 

Laurel

A week later...

The farm that I am on is a little wonky. Okay, pretty wonky. We aren’t living on the farm; it’s a couple miles away on a road called Sinepuxent Drive. I’ve said this before, but there are cats galore. The field that we farm is in the middle of a forest. There are also lots of little cottages sprinkled among the trees, and a small river running through the property. The second main feature to the farm (after the cats) is rust. Reggie (the owner) can’t bear to throw anything away. The property is named Mariners' Country Down.

It is a long drive up the driveway to get to the fields. There are five fields, a chicken coup, a hoop house and two big picnic tables. If you drive past the fields you come to a three story open-air shack. They call this the garlic house. It’s where all the garlic was hung to dry. The property is mainly wooded, but 40 years ago the owner had a part of it cleared, and has had it mowed ever since (nobody really knows why), but this made ideal conditions for farming.

The people of the farm:

Reggie – The property owner. His wife (who recently passed)’s family owned a couple hotels in Ocean City, so he is fairly well off. He is a quirky carpenter with a flair for the creative. He is a genius with carpentry, with big ideas and less follow-through. He is in his 70s and still working every day on various projects.

Garret – Reggie’s nephew. He’s in his 20s, tall and slightly awkward, but very sweet. He has been working on making a cottage on the property his own (including installing lights in the kitchen where there previously were none).  He works for his uncle.

Harry – One of Reggie’s workers. He is of Puerto Rican decent, with a heavy accent (I thought he was Indian when I first met him). Christie and Rick were impressed that I could understand him on the first go. He has short-cropped black hair with a white beard. He rides around the property on his small tractor. He does various mainly grounds keeping tasks for Reggie (cutting the lawn, spreading dirt, etc), grows green bell peppers and always predicts rain.

Rodney – Reggie’s other worker. He carries out approximately the same tasks as Harry. He also kindly lets the ducks out for us in the morning. He is older, and always seems friendly.

Cindy – Rodney’s wife, a cat lover, well more a cat adorer. She feeds the cats (yes, all of them), and is the owner of the cats who live in the chicken coop (don’t worry, the chickens live somewhere else). She seems sweet.

None of these people actually have anything to do with the farming part. It turns out Reggie asked Christie to come farm his land because he wanted some more action around his land. The land is called Mariner’s Country Down.

The Farmers:

Christie – A peppy woman who manages the farm. She is also a nurse at a local hospital. She is very nice, and is definitely the leader. She drives a beat up red truck and loves garlic. The hens treat her like mama hen, and follow her around the farm. She is an organizer, and has lots of friends.

Rick – When I first met him I thought he was a washed-up skater dude. Turns out I was close; he’s a surfer. He struck me as one of those people who had never really grown up. He was always making us laugh. He’s full of ideas for edible forest gardens, permaculture, wild edibles and inventive ways to carry his surfboard on his bike. He was in charge of the potatoes on the farm. He loves peanut butter and eats with chopsticks whenever possible.

Betsy – Christie’s daughter. She’s a freshman in high school, a dancer, and loves iced tea. She’s friendly and loud, and brought her boyfriend over for dinner on the first night. She spends half of her time at her dad’s house. She guessed her way into the top 10% of the state in math, and now is in algebra II when she really wanted to be in algebra I. She is also taking French and loving it. I helped her with her homework for both classes one night. She doesn’t help out on the farm; she’d rather be at the mall with her friends.

Smudge – The green-eyed black-with-white-paws cat who only gets cuddly when she’s hungry. She is very playful, and chases pennies around the floor.

I guess I left off last Sunday…

Saturday night we did indeed have quiche, potatoes, arugula salad and “apple Laurels” (leftover quiche crust folded around apples and spices, aptly named by Christie). It was so rewarding to be eating so directly from the farm, and especially knowing that I cooked it. I even made the crust! It was all so delicious.

Sunday was a normal day on the farm: watering, planting, harvesting. For dinner I fried up some eggplant that was leftover from market and Christie made stuffed bell peppers (some of Harry’s that he didn’t want).

Monday was more of the same. It sounds tedious when I write about it, but it really isn’t. Each day is different and there are people to keep you company.

Tuesday we farmed in the morning, and then Rick taught me to surf in the afternoon. We went to Assateague to surf, and I thought the highlight of the trip would be the wild horses, but really surfing took the prize. Rick showed me how to carry the board, how to jump from laying to standing, and then how to catch a wave. He helped me catch a couple. The first wave that caught me and carried me into shore made me feel like I was flying. It was so exhilarating. I had never felt anything like it before. It was like I was one with the wave. Everything slowed down in that moment and I felt like I was just one big whoosh. Rick helped me catch another one, but it was over just as I was starting to think about standing. The next wave I caught held me in it’s cool embrace and I thought it’s time. I pulled my legs up under me and unbent my knees. Suddenly I was flying while standing upright. It was like my own personal Titanic moment. I knew that my feet weren’t in the right place on the board, and that my arms weren’t quite sure what to do, but I was standing! On my third wave ever! Rick was so impressed with me. He said I was a natural. High fives were exchanged, and smiles all around. I stood once more before we left, and caught a couple waves by myself. I admired the wild horses by the side of the road as we biked back.

Wednesday we farmed for a little, but it was in the 90s, so after only a couple hours we took off on the bikes to Assateague to catch some more waves. Rick pulled the boards behind his bike:

Thursday Christie had to work, so Rick gave me the day off, but I didn’t take it. Since Christie had the truck we had to bike there and back. The day was a scorcher again, so we quit after a couple hours of digging potatoes and picking ground cherries, and I had the afternoon to enjoy ice cream and Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I also discovered purple long beans. And I mean long beans! We roasted them in the oven. They had a slightly nutty flavor. That night we decided to try dipping ground cherries in chocolate. It was delicious.

Friday I did something really crazy. We got up at 6:30 to catch the best waves of the entire summer along with dozens of other surfers.  The water was 68˚, but I didn’t really notice the cold. It was just very refreshing. I didn’t realize how cold I was until I got out. I was shivering so much as I showered off. Luckily the bike ride back to the farm warmed me up. We harvested reisentraubs (the little cherry tomatoes), eggplant, hot peppers, greens, bunching onions, basil and cilantro.

Saturday we got up ridiculously early again (5:30 this time) to go to market. I was squished in the truck between Rick and Christie for the hour-long ride. Market was the same scene as last time. When market was over we said our goodbyes and then piled back into the truck. We stopped at a local creamery for some of the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted and as we drove out of there we drove right past their free-range cows. What a difference it was from the next town over where they have a huge CAFO (concentrated animal feeding operation) for chickens. It’s called “Fresh Young Chickens,” and was made up of probably 10 huge concrete buildings. Not a chicken was in sight. I imagined the unhappy birds stacked on top of each other, miserably standing in their own poop with their clipped wings and beaks and I thought of our chickens back at the farm; the birds I had to chase out of the basil after an experimental peck at my knee left a beak shaped bruise, the chickens who chattered to me whenever I came close, the birds who I thought of as my friends. I decided I would do my best to avoid eggs from CAFOs.

Sunday we headed to the farm at around 10:30. I let my friends the chickens out and gathered the three eggs from the favored nesting box. I checked the greens for worms, and then helped Rick plant baby lettuce plants. Our day was cut short by Rick’s brother coming into town. I said my goodbyes to the farm and rode in the back of the truck on the way home. I packed my bags while mentally preparing myself to travel to another farm.

 

The cat house (that isn't finished, and hasn't been for two years):

Chickens look real funny up close.

 Ground cherries:

Farmers market!

Two days ago we spent a couple hours picking the tiny red tomatoes. Picking those is so unsatisfying, but we made it to the end of the row. The rest of the afternoon was spent watering greens, and scaring the chickens away from the ground cherries. I don’t think the chickens like me anymore. I come near them and they run away. :(

 

We packed up the truck to be ready for market. I volunteered to make dinner, and I made pesto pasta (with pesto they had made), garlic bread (with their garlic), and apple crisp (made with apples from a neighboring farm stand at the farmers market. All in all I would say the ingredients for our dinner traveled much less far than the average American meal. Plus, it was delicious!

Let me know if you want the crisp recipe. I added a twist that made it even more delicious.

Yesterday started with my alarm going off at 5:50 am. I opened my eyes thinking, “That thing can’t be right.” But sure enough when I checked it was 5:50. Time to get up. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and realized that I needed to turn the light on. It was still dark. After a splash of cold water to my face, and a cup of black tea I made my way into the truck with Rick. We watched the sun rise over the ocean as we drove through the beach towns that littered the highway. Rick sipped his coffee and me my tea as we chatted.

We pulled up to the farmer’s market, which looked like a huddle of tents scattered between old looking buildings. The buildings were part of the historical society that the farmer’s market set up shop on. We were greeted by friendly neighbors on either side, one man remarking as I got out of the car “Man, Christie you’ve changed!” Our tent was set up and we put out our goods on our two tables. It was so much fun chatting with people, explaining our produce and watching the diary farmer next door sell pints of chocolate milk to the most adorable little children. On the other side of our stand was a gluten free bakery, and across from us was this old couple who sold apples. I chatted with our neighbors. Everyone at the market was very nice and friendly.

We had two very unusual items for sale. We had the teeny tiny cherry tomatoes and ground cherries that I described earlier. It turns out the cherry tomato variety is rubenstien(?) or something like that. It’s German. I explained those to so many people. I think the most fun part of the market was seeing people’s faces when they tried the ground cherries. They are all hesitant and then the minute they bite down and feel the explosion of flavor they look almost comically surprised and pleased at the same time. It’s so much fun. We treated ourselves to a pint of the famous chocolate milk, a couple gluten-free goodies and a small basket of apples that had been deemed “seconds.” We handed out basil, some garlic and some potatoes to some of our neighbors. At noon we packed all the stuff back into the truck and headed home. We stopped by the farm and picked up two eggs from the seven hens on the farm. As we drove home we discussed our plans for quiche made with fresh eggs and maybe some mustard greens or tomatoes.

Laurel