Welcome to Polyface Farm

I've wanted to visit Polyface Farm ever since I read about it in The Omnivores Dilemma. This past weekend I had the opportunity to, while on a pilgrimage up to New Jersey for my friend Anthony's wedding. Charlottesville, VA was the halfway between Jersey and Chattanooga, so I stopped there to visit my great friends, Noel & Nafret. I knew that Polyface was close to Charlottesville, so I said to my self, why not? On my way back from Jersey, I met Noel in Swoope, VA, the home of Polyface Farm. (I should mention that I somehow got lost in the small town of Staunton, VA - it's the closest town to Swoop - I couldn't find my way out, that caused a slight delay)

In today's entry I'd like to walk you through my experience at Polyface, including the delicious meal provided by Polyface. I'll try not to be too wordy and let the pictures do the talking.

Above: Polyface sign greeting visitors. The farm is situated in the Shenandoah Valley, pretty much dislocated from everything. I don't know that I've ever been so far removed from life as I know it, in this country, like I felt driving into the far reaches of the Shenandoah out to Polyface.

Bill Keener of SCF here in Chattanooga knows Joel Salatin (the celebrity farmer/owner of Polyface). He told me that if Joel was in, which it wasn't likely, I should say hey. Turns out he was there! Joel was selling food from a small building next to the slaughter house. He wore a contagious smile along with a few dabs of blood, from killing turkey, on his cheeks. Noel, Joel and I shared brief small talk including why everything he does illegal and why twenty-somethings (my generation) have a perception that buying from a farmer is too expensive, or cooking the food is too hard.

Above: Joel sent Noel and I out to the pastures. We encountered the turkey first. They roamed a large plot of grass freely, and seemed pretty happy about that.

Above: Take note of these chickens, you'll see a cooked version later. The chickens are in these coupe like contraptions that move in rotation over the pastures. Basically, from what I understand, the chickens eat up the grass, peck through cow poop, and leave a bit of their own poop. It's all apart of the rotational farming happening at Polyface.

Above: You can see the poop left by the chickens. Fertilization!

Above: Some more birds, free roaming, along with an invention that Joel created as their coupe.

Above: Noel and I eventually came to a wooded area near the end of the farm. We stood for a few moments, then heard strange noises coming from within the wooded area. All of a sudden a pack of pigs galloped towards us, snorting. It was hilarious. I couldn't help but laugh. When I was a kid I was introduced to a pot belly pig at the local church festival. Ever since, I've wanted one. This is just one of the many pigs that greeted Noel and I.

Above: The slaughter "house"... It has no walls. Any visitor to Polyface can see the killing in progress, if they show up at the "right time". Noel and I just missed the crew killing turkeys. I'm not going to lie, I was sad that we missed the slaughter process. This, to my knowledge, is the only stage of the food preparation process that I've not experienced. I'll understand and appreciate what I eat, even more, if I witness the killing of an animal. I want to visit a local butcher shop in South Pittsburgh, TN. I'll write about my experience.

Above: Amazing country! I took this picture from my car, driving away from the farm, on my way to Charrlottesville, VA.

Above: Polyface chicken! mmmm! So good! I can still taste it! I stuffed the chicken with olive oil, rosemary, thyme, and lemon - cooked at 375 for about an hour. I'll be honest, I'm much more comfortable cooking veggies. I was a bit intimidated to cook a full chicken for five other people. Luckily, my roommate, Joseph, hooked me up with solid advice. And, one of the guest is a "food architect", and coached me along the way. (I forgot about thawing the chicken. Therefore, dinner was about two hours late.) Along with the chicken, we enjoyed steamed beats, sauteed beat leaves and stems, and sauteed squash with onions and red pepper flakes. Though the meal was delayed, it still tasted incredible! (it was accompanied by great conversation) A few months ago I couldn't cook!

May You, Me and Everyone in Between enjoy good food, together with good people, from good places, like Polyface Farm!

Don't listen to your mother.

Last year my friend Austin and I were sent to NYC with no cash, no cell phone, just a few layers of clothes, and a bus ticket. (One of our mentors thought it'd be fun to actually follow what's written in Mathew 10.) I'll spare you all the details, if you're interested in learning more, see link... Anyways, Austin and I were introduced to a man from Bangladesh named Joshi. He ended up being our host for the week (AKA worthy man - Mt. 11). New friends that we met in Manhattan led Austin and I to Joshi. They told us to take the train out to Queens, look for a white jeep wrangler and a Bangladeshi man. The very first thing that Joshi did, when we met him, was extend his hospitality. Aus. and I found ourselves in a neat little Bangladeshi resturaunt in some corner of Queens. Joshi picked out our food and we shared from the same plate. Joshi then told us that it is his cultures tradition to eat with their hands. And here's where I introduce the topic related to food this week... Eating with my hands, sharing the same meal with others turn out to be the most memorable meals my life.

Here are a few others that I remember...

In college, again with friends from South East Asia and from the Middle East, I had a meal during the Muslim Ramadan holiday. We all stayed up until just before sunrise and had an amazing fusion meal of from Jordan/India/Korea/Bangladesh. Right before sunrise we all shared the incredible meal together. We sat in a cricle without silverware (as far as I can recall). After we ate, we then fasted from sunrise to sunset and broke the fast together. The fast was difficult being that the scent of the food lingered on my hands throughout the day.

I've been blessed with two experiences in Sub-Saharan Africa. One in Niger and the the other in Mali. In each place, at each meal we had the option of silverware. But my friends and I were in the middle of the desert living with the Tuareg tribesmen, why use silverware? I remember eating bread made in the sand and goat that was slaughtered a few feet away from where we sat. Again, all of us, Tuareg and Americans, ate from a common table with our hands. Though we could barely understand each other, we found ways to communicate and share the wonderful experience we each other. I feel like laughter usually companies these meals as well.

I have sooo many memories of eating with my hands. Even this week, the last 5 days, I can't recall using silverware, other than buttering bread with peanut butter or cheese. I love feeling the sensation of warmth or cold and texture of the food. There's nothing like licking your fingers of the excess olive oil, egg yoke, cheese, salt and pepper. On the last two occasions where I prepared a local meal, I enjoyed the meal with my hands. Last week, my roommate and I cooked up Lamb Chops, Beats, Squash with onion and red pepper flakes, beans, and potatoes. I choose to eat with my hands and it brought me back to the previously mentioned experiences above. I think that the flavors mix on the surfaces of my finger tips to create unique tastes. As I thought about what to write today, I couldn't resist challenging ya'll to stop listening to your mother, drop your silver ware, and eat your food with your hands! (The challenge does not include burgers and fries from McDonald's). Go to your local Market!

I'll leave you with that. Next week I will write about my visit to Polyface Farm in Virginia. In the meantime, I hope that You, Me and Everyone In Between enjoys great food, together, with your hands!

Withdrawal Syndrome

Weddings have forced me to drive all over the south and north east coast this summer. Don't get me wrong, I love weddings, especially the three so far this summer. Though, I will say that after missing the Main Street Market last week, I was feeling withdrawal. Of course, I was missing out on the good food during the last week. But I also missed out of the cool fellowship that occurs at the market.

Today I set out to overcome my withdrawal. Somehow I managed to get by without buying groceries this week (lots of granola, good friends who cook, and peanut butter). I had a whooping sixty dollars to spend at the market! Technically, since my budget ends on Friday, I have sixty bucks for food for the next three days! Anyways, I was ready to spend some money on some amazing food.

I did my usual, I bought some eggs and went on my rounds. I usually end up walking two rounds and shopping at each tent at least once. As usual, conversation was struck up by either the farmer or myself. Along with the conversation, I tasted an amazing yellow watermelon, cold figs, and a new taste, tomatilla. All told, by the end of my time my bags were full and I'd caught up with my good friends. I eliminated my withdrawal syndrome and spent almost fifty bucks on this market excursion!

At the market today I realized one reason why the farmers market is such a happy place. Think about an artist. An artist works hard through each aspect of the creation process. Blood, sweat, and sometime tears go into a project. An artist feels great about his or her creation when complete. But the real joy comes from sharing. Ain't that true with all aspects of life? I believe this to be true with farmers. They work with whatever nature throws at them, rain or shine. They do all that they can possibly do to reap a harvest. To some extent they only have so much control. They can do everything "right", but there's no guarantee. Each growing plant is a miracle. Sure, the farmers could keep their crops to themselves. But I think the act of sharing brings them joy. I know it certainly brings joy to me and as you walk through your market I'm sure you'll witness the joy I'm speaking of.

I encourage you to partake in the goodness of the Main Street Farmers Market! Next week I'll write about what I've done with the food found in the picture above. Until then, I hope that You, Me and Everyone In Between enjoys good food and fellowship.

The Happiest Place in Town...

That's right! I declare the Hofbrauhaus Pittsburgh, the happiest place in Pittsburgh. Why?

1. Libations and cheers.
Alcoholic beverages (in moderation) can make people happy. If you're not talkative, you may become talkative. You start laughing, and your worries disappear for a few moments. On top of that, every 30 - 45 minutes there's a drinking chant/cheer. The bond you form with your fellow drinkers is sure to give you a warm feeling inside. I should also mention that the sweet aroma of beer being made directly next to you is also enough to make you smile.

2. Eating together.
Though you're not eating the same dish, it feels like you're extra closer to fellow patrons. Since your closer, you may want to sneak and try your neighbors Schnitzel. I found myself eating off of my moms, dads, grandmothers, and sisters plates. We all have to eat and, inherently, I think we all have a desire to relate. The Hofbrauhous brings people around a common table to relate, give thanks, laugh, and enjoy life with good food.

3. Culture.
Though German culture is not frightening, (like going to a cafe themed on Djibouti food), it's still different enough to give you a new and unique experience. I think it helps that it is actually an authentic German chain. There are only two or three in the USA! I asked the Beer Master what he was doing and he simply stated, "I making ze beer". The Hhaus actually has authentic Deutchlanders making beer and creating a vibe! And I should also mention that there is a large amount of German descendants in the Burgh. I think that once we enter the HHaus space we inherently become more like Germans, celebrating life, people, beer, and good food.

The HHaus is enough of a reason for me to go back to Pittsburgh (on top of my family n'at). It's interesting that (in my mind) the HHaus is the happiest place in Pittsburgh. It's also ironic that it's happier than Kennywood (PGH's amusement park, which I went to the day before). I resolve and conclude that good traditional food and beer has a major part of my proclamation of Happiest Place in Pittsburgh. And.... (Drum roll please).... I think that a farmers market can also be one of the happiest places in your town for many of the same reasons as the HHaus. It's a place to relate, tell stories, laugh, eat traditional food to your region, connect, etc... Your house can be one of the happiest places on the planet if you share the joy and creation of a meal provided by your local farmer with close friends. (Don't forget local libations)

So, as I break my own tradition of writing on Wednesday (and for that matter skipping the Market, as I was en route from PGH to Chatt), I sign off with a chugging countdown in German. 

eins - zwei - drei !Zopa!

Schnitzel Cordon Blue

My sis. and me. After two hefe weizen.