By AJ
I got to ruminating this week and I thought I'd share my thoughts. But it practically turned into an essay, so ready your scrolling finger if you are just trying to get to that friggin’ pick list.
(The views and opinions expressed herein are those of this farmer and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of this farm.)
Seth took some time this week to take us through the cows– how to move with them, be aware of them, and invite them into our realm of thought as we go about our day. It was nice to be reminded of their grace and knowledge, as well as their role in pasture management.
It got me thinking that, as a farmer, I feel villainized sometimes. And I get defensive when cows and agriculture are villainized, accused of being the downfall of this earth.
True, the history of agriculture and domestication is a sticky one, riddled with misinformation, coercion, violence and colonialism. And I don’t claim to have any answers. But the thing is, that just ain’t all there is to it. There is a long history of peoples cultivating and tending land. And a whole world of agriculture (albeit small) that participates in food production in a very different way. Where, at it’s core, is reverence and humility.
Most people buy (into) industrial meat/food production, though perhaps out of necessity. And those who oppose it often do so by choosing to be vegan or vegetarian. By no right, do I judge that decision. “Don’t want to support industrial meat production? Don’t eat meat!” It’s a reasonable response.
I grew up vegetarian and looked to plants (mostly soy) for my nutritional needs. But when I moved to California and started farming, I began to question the methods of production that I was supporting by buying…. Anything! Sometimes it feels like you just can’t win.
But another thing happened, coupled with my questioning, and that was the first time I harvested an animal. It was a goat. And I was mortified. But through that dread and fear, I also tapped into something I wholly did not expect. And I have no name for it. It was a friggin’ swirling portal into a kind of wisdom, something deep and ancient.
In the US, less than 2% of the population is farmers. The reason I bring that up is because there are so few people who desire to/have the opportunity to experience the BECOMING that is rooted in the places we live, made richer by the relationships we build with all of its inhabitants. It is a special human experience. And when it comes to the relationship between a human and, say, a cow, the conversation is rich with humility. There’s that word again.
Did you know the Latin root for the word “humility” is HUMUS? No, not the delicious garbanzo bean dip. Humus. Literally, soil. How, then, can we not know that there is liberation in humility?
It’s funny how we think we’re in control.
We are not entitled to any of the gifts that this land produces. And I dare say, I sometimes wonder if we are worthy of such gifts.
As folks who work the land–ask of it, try to give back to it, witness the constant life and death–we are crushed by the constant flow of decisions asking to be made as we navigate the compromises we don’t know how to avoid. It hurts the whole of who we are. I’ve seen and experienced the despair that comes with it.
How do we do this well? How do we do right by all the critters and plants and mycelia and pollinators and humans involved? How do we “save the world”? How do we sustain our communities under capitalist rules? How do we find an empowering way forward? How do we keep going? Why should we?
I don’t know. The best we can do is learn to listen and be true enough to experience the mind-blowing amount of connection we have the ability to make with each cycle of life and death. We find ways to tap into a reverence for all of the moving parts of this life. And, as Seth said, as we climbed the hill toward the cows, all near-bursting with new life in their wombs, “Wow, this is pretty awesome”.
Pick List:
Eggs
Takrima Leeks
Green garlic
Cortland Yellow and Monastrell Red Onions
Pie Pita Pumpkins
Yellow Finn and Harvest Moon Potatoes (Last week)
Rhonda Beets
Hablange Parsnips
Purple Top Turnips
Watermelon and Purple Daikon Radish
Ruby King Red, Primo, and Deadon Cabbage
Joi Choi
Dazzling Blue Kale
Parade Scallions
Preludio Fennel
Esmee Arugula
Lettuce Mix
Cilantro and Parsley
Tea Blends and Ground and Whole Chiles (Please bring your own containers!)
Sonora wheat flour and wheat berries
Saltonstall Olive Oil (Please bring your own jars!)
Starts available in the shade tunnel (Please only take starts from area in between the two signs!)
Beetroot Mud Cake, from Wild Sweetness: Recipes Inspired by Nature by Thalia Ho
⅔ CUP (1¼ STICKS + 1 TEASPOON; 150 G) UNSALTED BUTTER, PLUS EXTRA FOR GREASING THE PAN
1¼ CUPS (215 G) FINELY CHOPPED DARK CHOCOLATE
2 TABLESPOONS BRANDY
¾ CUP + 2 TABLESPOONS (175 G) GRANULATED SUGAR
3 LARGE EGGS, SEPARATED
3 CUPS (250 G) FINELY GRATED FRESH BEETROOT
¾ CUP + 1 TABLESPOON (100 G) FLOUR
¼ CUP (25 G) DUTCH PROCESSED COCOA POWDER, PLUS EXTRA FOR FINISHING
¾ TEASPOON BAKING POWDER
½ TEASPOON SALT
Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Grease and line a 9-inch (23-cm) round springform cake pan with parchment paper.
Put the butter and chocolate in a medium-size heatproof bowl set over a saucepan filled with a few inches of barely simmering water. Do not let the base of the bowl touch the water below. Heat, stirring often, until melted, then remove and stir in the brandy. Whisk in ⅔ cup (135 g) of the sugar, then whisk in the yolks, one at a time, until glossy. Mix in the beetroot.
Next, put the egg whites into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Whisk, on medium-high speed, until foamy, then scatter in the remaining sugar;, whisking to firm peaks. Fold half into the chocolate mixture to loosen, then fold in the remaining half, until just incorporated. A fair few marbled streaks should remain. Sift in the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, and salt, then again fold until a uniform batter has formed. Scrape into the prepared pan.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until crackled. A skewer inserted into the middle should come out almost clean, with a few dense crumbs attached to it. Let cool in the pan for 15 minutes before lifting it out and onto a wire rack to cool completely. Finish with a good dusting of cocoa powder.