I’m not sure who to blame for my historic lack of interest in politics or public policy. I’m loathe to admit that until (very) recently I contributed to the dismal statistics of “young apathetics.” Like many, the 2008 election piqued my interest, but the effect was dampened by distance and humidity — watching events unfold from rural Cambodia just wasn’t the same as dancing in the streets in the Mission in SF.

But now, I’m starting to understand and really care. I’ve seen small policy take shape first-hand and it’s exciting. And I’m starting to see how much policy matters in the issues that move me.

While on the farm, Peter and Susan invited me to come along to a meeting of the Agricultural Resources Committee — a group which advised the County government on agricultural policy. The ARC was discussing farm intern policy in response to a situation in which the Washington State Department of Labor and Industries (L&I) began to audit local farm’s internship practices. The state’s labor law does not currently recognize farm internships as a valid worker category unless interns are registered students at a recognized educational institution.

Thanks to work by local farmers and activists, that first conversation eventually developed into a bill sponsored by Senator Kevin Ranker, a major small farm advocate in the state. The bill will establish principles for small farm internships in the state, and will allow farms to offer internships at less than the minimum wage, given specific requirements including an internship agreement signed by the farmer and the intern which includes some sort of record of the educational/vocational component of the arrangement.

The law will make it possible for small farms to continue to hire and train a new generation of young farmers without undue financial burden. This is not meant as a way for farms to dodge the law or gain unfair advantage, but rather as a way for them to provide a much-demanded public service of educating young would-be farmers.

Now, the bill’s having its public hearing:

“Senator Ranker’s SB 6349, establishing a farm internship program, has been scheduled for public hearing before the Labor Commerce & Consumer Protection Committee on January 28th at 3:30 pm. The Senator hopes that he has several farmers and interns at the hearing. The latter will be critical in order for the bill to pass. Please pass this along to stakeholders and those who are willing to provide testimony during the public hearing.”

The tool stand in Synergy Farm’s barn

I can’t make it to Seattle, but I did write a letter of support:

Dear Senator Kohl-Welles,

I am writing in support of Washington State Senate Bill 6349, the proposed law on farm interns. As a farm intern in the San Juan Islands, I participated in the early stages of development of the bill within the San Juan County Agricultural Resources Committee and am very excited to see it move forward in the Washington state legislature.

From April to September of 2009, I apprenticed on Synergy Farm on San Juan Island with Peter and Susan Corning. During my six months at Synergy, I gained hands-on experience and knowledge about sustainable farming, plant cultivation, and the business of running a small farm.

I came to my interest in agriculture through work in Cambodia, and the experience at Synergy has been an invaluable step in my career and personal development. Now I plan to return to graduate school to study sustainable business, with an emphasis on developing local economies and food systems. I would eventually like to run my own farm and value-added food business, very likely in Washington State. The season I spent at Synergy laid a strong foundation to pursue these goals and strengthened my desire to farm in the region.

This bill would make it possible for small farms like Synergy to continue to offer hands-on technical training for a future generation of farmers and I hope you support it in the upcoming hearing.

Very sincerely,

Jess Daniel

A couple of nights ago, my lovely roommate Sylvia emailed me late in the afternoon to ask if I was a fan of Project Runway. I haven’t watched much TV in the past few years (except for those days when I had food poisoning in Cambodia and I lay in my bed for 48 hours straight watching bootleg Sex & The City DVDs) but I have watched that show and it was very entertaining.

It gives me the shivers to watch people do what they’re really good at. People with intensity and real talent that’s been honed by hard work. When I was in Spain, I took an art history class from a crazy old Spanish man who tried to get his young American students to pose for him in the nude. He was a terrible teacher of history, and he was old and lecherous but when he got up to the board and started drawing these gorgeous chalk representations of famous artworks as if it were nothing… something in me reacted. My breath came heavy and I got a funny feeling in my stomach.

All this to say that this is how I feel sometimes when I watch a show like Project Runway where people are creating beautiful things under a deadline, sometimes out of what seems like nothing.

This episode didn’t disappoint.

First of all, it started on a farm.

Then, they made cocktail dresses out of potato sacks.

And to top it all off, one of the models on the show was a friend from high school. Sophia Lee. I hadn’t seen her in years and years. She doesn’t look too different.

At first, watching this show, I wondered if the farm shout-out was somehow testament to the ever-growing trendiness of all-things agriculture, but in fact I think it was a bit of the opposite. Despite mentions of farmcations in the New York Times and rising seed sales and the explosion of foodie films, it seems the mainstream image of farms still calls on the adjectives “old” and “dirty.” The designers wrinkle their noses as they run across (freshly tilled?) rows of dirt to reach their models. The urban still scorns the rural and needs to transform it into something different, more glamorous.

I’m in DC! Until May!

And it’s wonderful so far.

After a brief work-jaunt to Santa Fe, I’ve settled into a lovely house with awesome housemates, gotten down into work at the office, hung out with old friends and made a few new ones.

New Friends

Introducing, Marcie, a friend of a friend from the islands. We met for first time at the farmer’s market (where else) last weekend for squash and coffee; it was, needless to say, an encounter of kindred spirits.

This Wednesday we inaugurated what I think’ll be an especially fruitful cooking partnership.

I didn’t feel like trekking to the market and the pickings were slim. Since I just arrived a week ago, I was lacking some of my usual stockpile of goodies, but I figured a little bit of creativity and some love could yield something good. On hand: rapini on sale at Whole Paycheck, a jar of white beans, yukon golds, chicken broth, and some hot Italian sausage from Cibola Farms out in Virginia. It had been a grey day, so I was thinking soup. Marcie was in agreement.

Sausages in soup

The sausage made the meal.

Cibola Farms raises free-range heritage Tamworth pigs and grassfed bison. Buffalo-pork cranberry sausage? Buffalo summer sausage? Yum! I’m curious how they process their buffalo because a source in New Mexico mentioned that the USDA inspector charges some ridiculous hourly rate to inspect “exotic animals” like bison at their mobile slaughter facility. A question for the next market.

The sausage is made by Simply Sausage, a company out in Landover, MD that packages sausages for a number of different farmers. They’ve featured recently on Smithsonian.com in this sausage-making video

Plus their website has a friendly page on storing extra sausage.

So the soup was a success: sauteing the onions and garlic until the smell wafted upstairs into my bedroom where I could smell it 3 hours later, throwing in the harder stem ends of the rapini and the potatoes, then the broth, then the sausage as an afterthought (may have been even better if we had thought to brown it with the onions). Last the leafy bits of the veg, the beans (canned and already cooked), and a healthy dose of chili powder — not an entirely intentional pour, but an entirely welcomed one.

Accompaniments

And to go along, I made a batch of the buttermilk crackers that’ve been a table staple recently. So so simple, and so so delicious, although in this case they were slightly more difficult to make since our kitchen lacks a proper baking tray. I flipped over a smallish roasting pan and used the bottom. The crackers got mostly crispy, but I definitely need to invest in a proper pan.

I’m looking for inspiration as I write these essays. I got some feedback to “think bigger” in parts of my essays. I’ve always had the most expansive (if not most coherent) thoughts when reading poetry. And Berry is particularly apropo.
One time, I’ll tell you all the story of how my grandparents met Mr. Berry back in Kentucky. But for now, a poem:

“Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.

Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

Listen to carrion — put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go.

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.”

I’ve been stressing about my graduate school applications and Christmas and my impending move to DC. All actually very happy things, but I’m finding it all overwhelming.

Thankfully, I have these little guys to put things in perspective.

We picked up a new batch of chicks at Kruse’s Feed this weekend. They were the first chicks they’ve had in in a long time because the hatchery has been running out. My dad talked to the manager who explained that backyard chicken raising has become so popular that they just don’t have enough (girl) chickens to keep up.

Last month we processed 10 of our chickens who had stopped laying so that we could get started with another group. It seems somewhat morbid to consider the death that these adorable little creatures might someday end up in the pot too, but I eat meat and I know that whatever meat I eat was once, at some point, a cute animal, so I try to take good care of them and be properly thankful for what they provide for me.

I’m going to go out to the garage right now to say hi to them, and then it’s back to personal statements. What matters most to me and why — in 750 words or less. Oh. My. Lord.

Here’s a video I took at Pyongyang restaurant in Phnom Penh. Dragged along a couple of friends to check the place out after hearing about it again and again from curious expats. It’s North Korean owned and run. The performers and wait-staff were all North Korean as well, though I wish I could learn more about the story of how they are chosen, what their lives are like once they’re hear, how they’re trained…

I don’t know much about the North Korean relationship with Cambodia. Something to look into.

Funny, when I mentioned something about it on Facebook, a friend who hadn’t been in touch for a long time thought I was going to the real place.

I miss working on the farm. I miss being outside and working and getting really dirty and tired doing things. I miss looking scrubby and frumpy and not minding because I was watching things grow. I’ve only done a little bit of gardening since getting home. My dad and I made some flatting boxes so I could start some seeds, and I had some healthy chard, little broccoli and random Asian greens going.

Sadly, my lettuce never germinated… I think it was too hot even though I kept them in a shady spot. I’m going to try again now that it’s cooled down.

But anyway, I prepped a bed to take the baby brassicas. Not quite double-digging, but loosening up the dirt to about 12 inches with a spading fork and adding in some sifted compost from a batch I started last time I was home in December.

I transplanted forty or so seedlings — chard and a bunch of brassicas — late in the afternoon, optimal time, and gave them a good sprinkle. I came back the next couple of days to check on them and they seemed to be adjusting very nicely to their new surroundings.

Then just before Thanksgiving, I went out to the garden to behold carnage…

Something nasty had gotten to my little plants.

My first thought was DEER. Then I remembered where I was… in the middle of suburban Orange County. We barely see squirrels. I wondered if opossums ate broccoli? My mom guessed it was a bug, but I wasn’t convinced. I hadn’t seen any snails or slugs or really anything much other than pill bugs and earthworms and the damage was so fast and so total. Plus, whatever it was was discerning. They ate all the tender baby mustards and left the chard. Picky pests.

On Thanksgiving, I brought my grandma out to see the carnage. She didn’t have a clue, so I asked her to do some sleuthing next time she was on a volunteer shift at our local arboretum. By Saturday I had my answer.

RABBITS

WASCALY WABBITS

The plant expert said that a snail or bug would eat the plant down to the roots, not just the leaves. And immediately, I remembered riding my bike down the street early in the day a while back and noticing a cute little bunny. Now, not so cute.

So today, I made a fence.

Makeshift, but I think it’ll do the trick. If not, I can always go collect some cat pee to sprinkle around the perimeter.

I wonder if rabbits like spinach or arugula?

Or little pea shoots? They are pretty gourmet. I guess I have to go on a little scavenger hunt for materials for a second fence!

We were driving through Ontario the other weekend, past car dealerships and strip malls and concrete dividers and I got this image in my mind of the Inland Empire way before the orange groves, before the Mormon settlements, before the Spanish settlers when the Serranos and Cahullia Indian tribes lived in the San Bernadino valley. It must have been beautiful.

Our family friend, John told me about being out in the area and taking biking trips out to wineries through the backs of fields back in the 70s. Apparently not all the freeways were around back then and you could get from place to place without your Suburban (or in our case, Honda) .

I went digging a bit and turned up this map from the California Dept of conservation on land-use change in Chino from 1984 to 2008. How fascinating.

Check out the way the green turns pink. Within the image area, more than 12,500 acres were removed from agricultural uses, and urban land increased by more than 17,000 acres.

Farmland Mapping and Monitoring Program
1984 to 2008 TIME SERIES

Some family friends invited me and my parents out for a wine picnic last weekend. Napa and Sonoma are known as wine kings today, but in the past, the Southland (and San Bernadino in particular) boasted acres of vineyards and a number of well known vintners.

As you can see by the bottle sagging with the weight of its medals, some products like Rancho de Philo’s Triple Cream Sherry can still hold their own.

Our first stop was at Rancho de Philo in Alta Loma. Each year, the winery opens up for just one week for sales to the public. We munched on snacks and tasted the different vintages, while other from our party stood in line to pick up their year’s supply.  The wine’s made from mission grapes brought over way-back-when by the Spanish missionaries. The founder, Philo Blaine learned his sherry-making techniques back in Spain and then passed them on to his daughter Janine who runs the place now with her husband, Alan.

Janine was standing outside and handed me this sample as she talked about her childhood, growing up and learning the grapes.

Later, we headed over to Galleano winery in Mira Loma, not too far away. We drove down the freeway, through some suburbs and a couple of car dealerships and ended up at a driveway turn-in that looked a little like the entrance to a corporate park.

Instead of manicured lawns and tortured palms, we were greeted by a beautiful oasis of rural calm. We pulled out our picnic gear, and went to coo over the donkeys and guinea pigs before settling down to our meal.

I brought buttermilk lavash crackers and rosemary-meyer lemon bean dip.

And arugula and cherry tomato pasta salad with fresh herb sauce (everything from the garden!)

It was a seriously impressive spread — just the kind of thing to fill your stomach before wine tasting!

Mini pickles, quiche, black beans, corn & red pepper salad, wild rice salad, crudites, and fresh mozzarella & tomatoes on lettuce.

Another wonderful place to add to the Good Food Map:

Other articles about Rancho de Philo, Galleano, and San Bernadino Wine Country

• Rancho de Philo in Inland Living Magazine
• Rancho de Philo in the Inland Valley Daily Bulletin
• Wine history in the Inland Empire’s Sun
• Galleano’s website

I’ve never really liked pumpkin pie. Sacrilegious, I know. I prefer a yummy spiced persimmon cake or traditional Dutch Apple. But even I know that Thanksgiving just isn’t Thanksgiving without that creamy, cinnamonny, burnt orange treat to top off the feasting.

That’s why the news of Nestle’s canned pumpkin shortage is so very sad. Nestle apparently controls 85% of the pumpkin canning crop concentrated in 5,000 acres of pumpkin fields in Morton, Illinois. An already small harvest of Sweet Dickenson pumpkins has been pummeled by heavy rains, which have waterlogged the squash to the point that they’re no longer suitable for processing.

The impact won’t hit this year in most cases since many stores are stocked from last year’s harvest, but come Turkey Day 2010, we may be feeling the effects of this year.

I guess that’s one of the drawbacks of putting all your eggs in one basket (or in this case, pumpkins in one midwest town).

Anyway, if you’re one to think ahead, maybe this year is the year to start practicing your fresh pumpkin pie making skillz. It’s certainly more work than opening up a can of Libby’s, but it’s also a fun project.

A roundup of puree recipes around the web yields the following basic advice (pictures to follow shortly once I get ’round to picking up my own pie pumpkin):

1) Choose a small pumpkin and look for a sugar pumpkin rather than the decoration variety. Smaller pumpkins will likely have less water and will be less fibrous which will result in a smoother, more consistent finished product. You can also substitute hubbard, butternut, or acorn squash OR sweet potatoes especially if you’re making puree for a pie.

2) Chop your pumpkin in half or into four manageable pieces. Remove the seeds and fiber with a spoon. You can save the seeds for roasting or for planting your own pumpkins next year!

3) You can bake or steam the pumpkin. To steam, place pumpkin in a steaming basket with 2 inches of water and cook for approximately 30 minutes, or until the pumpkin is totally tender.  To bake, preheat your oven to 350 degrees, line a baking sheet with foil, and place your pumpkin pieces flesh-side down. Bake for about 60 minutes, or until the pumpkin can be scooped with a spoon.

4) Let cool, remove the skin and chop into pieces. Puree the pieces in a food processor or blender.

5) At this point, you’ll want to check out your product. Is it smooth? Stringy? Watery? For most recipes, you’ll want the puree to have the consistency of baby food. If your product is too watery, you can cook it down in a pan over medium-low heat with a little bit of butter or you can strain it through a cheesecloth for a few hours. If too stringy, try mashing through a sieve.