Hau Do You Do?

Googlemaps has betrayed me. Last weekend I decided to take a multitasker's vacation: after finishing market and getting in a quick tutoring session with one of my students, I hit the road for Athens, GA and its surrounding farmland. My plan was the visit Cedar Grove Farms--a small organic farm some friends recently established--rush back into Athens for the later half of my cousin's play, and then visit my grandfather, who had recently been involved in a car accident. I had everything timed down to the minute.

Alas, 6:15 found me sans cell reception at the tail end of a dirt road in what could easily pass for Deliverance country. This was not the farm I was looking for. After some backtracking, the interrogation of one rather bemused jogger, and several frazzled cell phone conversations, I found my farm, in the process relinquishing all hopes of accomplishing many tasks in a single day. My hosts were extremely gracious about my delay (perhaps because of the baked goods I brought?) and kindly gave me the tour of their young operation.

At three years old, Cedar Grove and Serenbe are close in age, though Cedar Grove carries the distinction of having been started by total rookies. My friends had never farmed before setting up shop at Cedar Grove, but they have learned fast. As proof of their resolve and hard work, they are already nearing the end of their first asparagus harvest. That may not sound like such an accomplishment, but consider this: it takes three years for asparagus to produce a first harvest. They must have hit the ground running.

I spent the better part of three hours touring the three acres they have under production, swapping stupid chicken stories, favorite plant varieties, and general growing advice. As the late spring twilight settled into the corners, we moved inside and our conversation moved to the future: for their farm, for Athens' Farmer's Markets, and for the world in the face of a global food crisis. By the time I finally left Cedar Grove my headlights were turned to highbeams and my backseat was stuffed with produce. Their greenhouse is an unheated hoophouse, in which they grow greens all winter long, so their Swiss chard and dwarf Siberian kale were farther along than our own. In addition to the chard and kale, they supplied me with two of my favorite springtime treats, fresh asparagus and tiny, succulent strawberries. I'm hard pressed to think of a better birthday present!


Swiss Chard Gratin
Serves 6
This is a phenomenally tasty yet simple recipe that celebrates chard. Do it right by using good cheese and whole milk. Your tastebuds will thank you, I promise.


2 lb (12-16 leaves) swiss chard, stems sliced and leaves cut into 1-inch ribbons
4 tablespoons butter
1 onion, halved and sliced
2-3 shitake mushrooms, sliced (optional)
1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 cups milk
1 cup grated Gruyere or Asiago cheese
salt and pepper, to taste
1/4 cup dried bread crumbs

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add the chard stems and cook for 2 minutes. Add the leaves and cook and additional minute. Drain well and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 350 and grease a 1 1/2 quart casserole dish with butter.

Melt butter over medium high heat in a medium saucepan. Add the onion and sauté until soft, about 3 minutes. Wish in the flour to form a paste. Whisk in the milk and bring to a boil. Reduce the hear and stir in the cheese. Season with salt and pepper and remove from heat. Fold in the chard.

Transfer to the prepared dish and sprinkle the top with breadcrumbs.

Bake for 25-35 minutes, until the sauce is bubbling and the top is browned.

Portuguese Kale Soup
Serves 4
I had a lot of veggies on hand this week (more so than usual) so I did quite a bit of cooking. As a matter of fact, all of that time in the kitchen--coupled with full days on the farm--are probably the reason for my rather sporadic blogging as of late. Hopefully, after sampling this recipe, you'll agree that my absence was worth it. I was introduced to kale less than two years ago, and I can still remember eying the massive, tough leaves with apprehension. Luckily, the CSA program I had subscribed to included a delicious recipe (which I have since lost...good one, MK) and I have been a fan ever since. This soup is a snap to make, filling enough to stand alone as a meal, and according to my cookbook is one of the national dishes of Portugal. When I first read the recipe I feared that it was too simple to be particularly flavorful. How wrong I was!

1/2 lb chorizo sausage, sliced
8 cups chicken broth
2-4 medium potatoes, peeled and diced
12 oz. kale, stems discarded and leaves chopped (8 cups lightly packed)
salt and pepper to taste

Combine the chorizo and stock in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, then simmer while you prepare the potatoes.

Combine the potatoes with water to cover in a medium-size saucepan. Cover and bring to a boil. Boil until tender, about 8 minutes. Drain and briefly mash with a potato masher for an uneven, lumpy texture. Add to the chicken broth along with the kale.

Simmer for 10-15 minutes, until the kale is quite tender. Season with salt and pepper. Serve hot.

Veggie Tales at the OK Corral

Serenbe is a public place to learn how to farm. Not only are there newly inhabited houses directly abutting the farm (be careful what tree you pee behind!), but people are always wanting to come tour the grounds. Often enough they simply let themselves in and wander aimlessly along the main road--slightly worrisome but rather hard to prevent--but on occasion we dabble in agritourism and show off the farm to school kids or wedding parties. I'm rather looking forward to one upcoming wedding tour, the guests for which are almost exclusively from L.A. Overalls, a good thick drawl, and possibly bare feet are in order that day, me thinks. This morning, however, our guests were rather smaller and less glamorous: 66 seventh graders from an Atlanta private school.

Despite our fears of junior high angst and calculated boredom, our kids were a pretty good group. They gamely followed Paige, Jack, and I around the farm, sampling viola flowers, pea tips (the aphids added protein, we assured them), and whatever else we endorsed as edible. We put them to work seeding squash and cucumbers for us, let them feed spinach to the chickens, and tried to teach them to difference between beds and paths. Having introduced them to the general principles of our organic, biointensive system, we decided that some recreation was in order in the form of my favorite ridiculous game: "Vegetabling Off." Imagine a Veggie Tales interpretation of Tombstone and you've got a pretty close approximation of a successful Vegetable Off. The two contenders begin back-to-back and at a caller's instructions take three steps in opposite directions. On the caller's mark, they then turn to face one another and impersonate in both action and sound the vegetable that the caller has just named. Observers then vote as to who has most captured the essence of the produce (or simply who has looked most absurd).

Much as I enjoyed helping self-conscious adolescents be goofy and unstudied, the experience showed me how limited the vegetable repertoire of your average 13-year-old is; when I shouted "eggplant" I was met with blank stares. So I limited myself to the more traditional fare of carrots, potatoes, broccoli, and peas and restrained myself from pulling out celeriac or turnips.

I, on the other hand, have been pulling turnips out of the ground in abundance. Slightly larger than a radish and pure white, our Hakureis have a crisp crunch and a clean, ever-so-slight sweetness that grants them easy admittance to my "eat it raw" list. Still, I feel that I don't really know a vegetable until I've applied heat to it in some form or fashion, and if you feel the same, you've got to try this.

Glazed Turnips with Scallions and Parsley

Be sure to use a sauce pan with maximum surface area, as you want to glaze to reduce down quickly, before the turnips get over-cooked. Don't be afraid to do as I did and remove the turnips from the heat while the glaze finishes reducing, as it allows the veggies to retain just enough of that wonderful crunch.

1/4 stick (1/8 cup) unsalted butter
1 1/2 lb turnips, peeled and cut into 1-inch-thick wedges
1 1/4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 teaspoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 scallions, finely chopped
1 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

Melt butter in a wide 5-quart heavy pot over moderate heat, then add turnips, stirring until well coated. Add broth, sugar, and salt and bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, until turnips are just tender, 25 to 30 minutes.

Continue to boil turnips, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until liquid is reduced enough to just glaze turnips, about 15 minutes. Sprinkle with scallions and parsley.