Goodbye Aunt Jemima and Hello Uncle Willard !

As a baby boomer I grew up with all the fun people.  Captain Crunch, Dr Pepper, Ronald McDonald, Tony the Tiger and Aunt Jemima.

I also have a weight problem.

Post World War II, the mama's of the world grew tired of the hard work it required to cook a healthy meal and they willingly turned to the new world of processed food followed very quickly by fast food and before we knew it our cupboards were filled with boxes and boxes of instant this and that , while our freezers bulged with cartons of "goodies" like fish sticks, pizza bites and ice cream. Demand resulted in mass production which resulted in crap food at a minimal price. Cooking got easier and folks  got fatter.

Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig and others saw an opportunity and began  charging people to learn about good nutrition...by selling said people THEIR version of packaged and boxed processed food, coupled with fresh fruit and veggies. People lost weight. Stopped the diets, gained the weight back, went back on the diets and money exchanged hands over and over. The Fast Food Kings saw their own opportunity and developed the Dollar Menu's so our country's poor could be fat just like the rich.

The cycles of fat and thin, good food and bad food (like food can have a character trait) diets and non-diets continues to gain momentum and struck me full in the face this past weekend when I purchased this small glass jar of real maple syrup from our friends at Spence Farms. http://www.thespencefarm.com/

Cost ?   $12.

Yes, thats right, $12. Now why on Gods still green earth would I do such a thing when I could spend $3.19 (on sale) for a much larger bottle of Aunt Jemima Quasi-Syrup ?. I do afterall have to feed three grandchildren on the weekends. Three who love French Toast and Pancakes and would eat them three times a day.

I bought it because I am smart...er than I was a year ago. I have learned that a larger amount of money spent on a smaller amount of healthy food is far better for my body, my relationship with my neighbors AND my budget. Lets go back to the $1 menu at McD's. Research has shown that folks will buy many more of the $1 sandwiches , filled with little healthy meat grown inhumanely on large feedlots, than they need or intended to buy in the first place. They figure "They  are only $1, I might as well get 2 or 3 of them."

I had that same mindset for years in regards to syrup. The stuff is relatively cheap so why not let the kids poor it themselves so that the pancakes are swimming in it ? So the kids ended up with cheap food that spread far more calories into their little bodies than was ever needed.

Then along comes Uncle Willard AKA Will Travis and his family. Located just a few miles from our home I am ashamed to admit this was my first time with Uncle Willards Sticky Yum Yum.  But I had heard the reviews and hating to be left out, I reserved my bottle. Last weekend we made the trek to Spence Farm ,   paid our very hard earned cash for their very hard earmed hand harvested and  hand created, syrup. It was an even trade. More than even.

Never has so little sweetness volume wise,  given my family so much joy. Thirty minutes alone was spent with my three GK's just "taste-testing" the syrup, comparing it in blindfolded and highly scientific studies , with Aunt Jemima's brew. Each time the kids could identify which was the REAL syrup and which was so less than real. And each time they picked Uncle Willards as their favorite, including the 3 year old.

We treasured that bottle of syrup and drizzled it slowly over our food instead of flooding our food with it. We were actually able to taste the woodiness in it coming  from, you guessed it, the real wood fires used on Spence Farm to boil down the sap. We treated the syrup like the treasure it was, not wanting to waste either our own money nor the efforts of those who worked so hard to bring us the really good stuff.

Something to think about the next time you are faced with the choice of buying a mass produced item produced by the masses versus selecting an item hand grown or hand made with gunuine effort and care from a neighbor or a friend.

We Salute You,  Uncle Williard !

Farmer Pirates and Dancing Cowboys

Apples without pesticides or fungicides,
 take longer to mature
and ripen. Good things are always worth the wait.

A night to remember.  Last night at Station 220 in Bloomington Illinois miraculous things occurred. The first annual meeting of The Central Illinois Sustainable Farmers Network (CISFN) took place. More than double the expected number of farmers showed up to meet old friends, greet new friends and eat a meal that was out of this world. The meal evolved through the efforts of many local farmers sharing their produce and meat, all raised with hard work and a dedication to growing food with massive taste benefits and minimal harm to the land. A meal put together through the sweat and worry of  chef  Ken Myszka of Epiphany Farms, who jumped in at the last moment when desperately needed. A meal that combined tastes of  paper thin radish peels and pieces of pork belly, maple syrup with carrot cake and honey crisps. The kind of meal where you are dreadfully sad when the last plate is served as you know you could easily eat one, five, ten more of any of the courses.

And now a word about the servers and cooks we did not see. Men and women who did not get the fame of the microphone but whom without their services a meal like last nights would never had made it out from the farmers truck, into the kitchen and onto our plates complete with the flowing circle of Aronia berry juice perfectly framing our dessert.

So many people coming together to focus on one thing, the small family farm.

The evening was already perfect but then an introduction was made. While listening to his resume being shared at the podium, our guest speaker hung his head. His well worn hat tipped low, he wrung his hands ever so slightly around his note cards. It was obvious to this other small farmer that our man of the hour was not so comfortable in the recitation of his life medals. The introduction went on for some time, appropriate since our guest had in his very young middle aged life, already accomplished some amazing things. They are discussed here:
http://smallfarmersjournal.com/who-is-lynn-r-miller

When Mr Miller spoke everyone listened. He is the rare  individual who walks the long, often muddy, usually heavy but then again often rewarding walk of the small farmer. He started HIS speech by pushing the attention in another direction. Pointing to the Sugar Shack King, Will Travis of Spence Farm in Fairbury Illinois, he said "The future of everything we care about in this room is right there in that young man. " He went on to talk of many OTHER farmers stories from across the country. "Small"  farmers who were making HUGE differences in their own neighborhoods ways of looking  at and utilizing food grown sustainably by "their" farmer.

He reminded us about the rest of the planet where every four seconds a child dies of hunger. The elegantly served goat meat and pasta in my own belly rolled over in guilt and I thought of the many opportunities that had passed by to share our  wealth of food in our own community.  Something to put at the top of our "To-do " list which contained far less important things like updating our assets sheets for our tax man

And he chastised us for not knowing our neighbors across the fence. " We need to allow our farms to be part and parcel of those who live around us."  And he encouraged us and made us smile when he said " Living the life of something you love is the sexiest life you can live."  12 hours later I am still giggling about that one. Wondering how to incorporate it into our farm slogan. South Pork Ranch where raising the Red Wattle hog is sexy !  That should generate some community interest.

He told us of the Japan's Ministry of Agriculture who visited his own farm in Oregon and his pure laugh out loud joy at seeing Lynn working with real horse power. The kind with a tail and a mane. He downplayed the importance of such a visit and the passing of the real food baton reminding us that,  "The answer is scale." More specifically , "The farm should be no bigger than what you can get your arms around...no bigger than your embrace."  I looked down at my own short arms suddenly realizing why I was so tired lately. At that exact moment my husband , sitting behind me, reached up and placed his hand on my shoulder. Strong words I won't soon forget, as long as I write them down on some post-its and stick them up all over the house and the barn and in my notebooks and on my blog. Nope. I won't forget them.

He filled his time with real stories about real people and a few stories of questionable nature like the snake who knocked on the side of his boat looking for another drop or two of Jack Daniels. Anyone with half a brain knows snakes prefer Jamison. Ever since driven out of Ireland they've missed it terribly.

After the meeting I stood in line to get our worn copy of Farmer Pirates & Dancing Cows signed. When I reached out to shake Lynn's hand he grabbed it, pulled it towards him and KISSED IT !  He then thanked me for all the hard work we were doing on our farm.  Timing...is...everything. Just the day before Keith and I were talking about all we do, why we do it, should we do it, can we stay solvent doing it, without killing ourselves while doing it and then someone comes along and out of the blue thanks you for doing it.

And you are able to get up the next day and do it again.

THANK YOU Mr Lynn R Miller. Thanks a million.

Foodie Patootie

I was a foodie loooong before the term was popular. I of course blame everyone but myself. Lets start with the dad. Times were tough, money was almost non-existent. So bedtime snacks were often hi-carb, hi-fat. Dad's best culinary feat was the white bread trick. He'd take the entire loaf, toast it ( or sometimes broil it in the oven if the toaster was broken, which meant the top of the bread was near black and the bottom was warm and mushy ) and smear it with whatever fake butter product was available. If it were payday, we'd get that loaf served to us with a jar of generic peanut butter layered on top. Oh baby, oh baby. He'd bring that loaf o' lard into the living room on one big red and orange flowered melamine plate . We'd fight tooth and tail for that Wonderless bread because if you took more than your share your butt would surely get kicked.

Dear old mom played no second fiddle to the king of grub. On her good days she could whip up a HUGE pan of mac and cheese made with all the leftover cheese pieces she could scrape out of the crisper drawer, which by the way, kept absolutely nothing "crisp." She knew how to slosh together American with Cheddar with Swiss with a packet of powdered Kraft cheese (just add milk or in moms case, 1/2 milk, 1/2 water) eons before Paula Deen made it chic.No one could stretch a meal and still maintain its comfort status like my folks.

Now fast forward 40 years to the Spence Farm Foundation Harvest Feast held this past Sunday in rural Fairbury Illinois. Dozens of chefs, local farmers, volunteers, board members and even a few limo low riders traveled near and far to prepare fresh locally grown produce and meat into dishes that even Don and Dusty, the Plain Janes of  "Lets make a Meal," would have savored. Two chefs, Jared Van Camp from Old Town Social , Chicago, and Manny Martinez from Destihl in Bloomington, split one of our Red Wattle hogs in half  (a la King Solomon) and made completely different dishes. From Jareds camp came smoked pork loin, pork belly pastrami, bratwurst and franks with housemade sauerkraut. And in Manny's corner, the Wattle was roasted in this huge wooden box for hours and hours and served with chimichurri sauce, pickled red onion and spice roasted marzen poached pears. Yet another chef, Aric Miech of Mindy's Hot Chocolate, Chicago, did the honor of preparing some of our beef brisket by smoking it over apple wood and then serving it with apples and black pepper on a whole wheat baquette. Man, I just got a serious case of the giggles imagining my dad saying "baquette". I just know he would have said "BAG IT".  I kill me. Aaaaaaanyway...

These three guys and their staff were just a small part of the group of skilled chefs, who managed to prepared dishes that not only tasted great but looked as beautiful as this

Sweet potato and leeks roasted on fragrant hay with black olive cake, molasses and pear

Keith and I ate until ...well we never did stop eating. Jared sent us home with a LARGE bag of sausages, brats and frankfurters which we ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner the next day. At the end of the evening an auction was held to benefit all the projects the Spence Farm Foundation carries forth each year, such as teaching the art, history and practice of sustainable small family farming across our country. We went home filled with tremendous gratitude for the Spence Farm Foundation who helped us and so many other farmers in so many ways. We were even more grateful for the bounty of food, friends and fun that God has granted us and so many others in our neck of the plains.

Yeah, My name is Donna and I'm a foodie.