Posted by Maryellen Driscoll

After a long spell of consistently wet and cool weather that made August feel more like September, it’s finally feeling like summer again. I’d been craving that. So I got what I wanted—a stretch of sunny, dry weather with gentle breezes that make me want to inhale the moment and hold it in forever. But, as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for, because on a farm, such perfect weather means only one thing: It’s time to make hay.

As a small, highly diversified farm, there’s never a good time to make hay. Our 7 days of the week are already impossibly jammed with planting schedules, harvest days, deliveries, market days, butchering days, moving cows and fence … And yet, when the weather is right, we have to make time to cut, rake and bale up hay. Come winter, cows need to eat.

Nearly 10 years ago, when we were searching for a farm, we believed diversified, small-scale farming was the best way to truly farm sustainably. So we sought a farm with at least 100 acres—enough land to grow crops, graze animals, and rotate the two to fully complement one another. We still believe in this system. It’s enabled us to depend pretty exclusively on our own farm-produced fertility—be it from our compost (at left) or the manure that animals drop as they are grazing on pasture. It’s amazing. And yet, the longer we do it, the more we understand why we don’t see a lot of highly diversified farms.

So this week, we make the hay, before the aftermath of the hurricane hits. Ken drives the tractor in 90-degree weather with a closed cab and broken A/C (another $1,000+ repair in the waiting). And I stay back at the homestead, as it went last night, trying to wing some kind of a dinner while my 3-year-old hangs at my feet pressing for her dad, or a cookie, and my 10-month-old son surprises me by (gulp) climbing step ladders. Ah, yes, these are the hay days—and nights—on a small, diversified family farm.

Posted by Susie Middleton

A few weeks ago, I wrote about a mobile chicken slaughterhouse on the Vineyard, and how small farmers all over the country are slowly making progress towards getting USDA approval for butchering practices that make sense. Today, the Wall Street Journal profiles the first mobile slaughterhouse that's USDA-approved for butchering pigs and beef, in Lopez Island, WA. Watch the video to learn more about how the system works (the video itself, by the way, is slaughter-free).

Posted by Susie Middleton

I first encountered Fettucini and Biscotti (pictured right) on a walk through Felix Neck Wildlife Sanctuary one wintry afternoon. Deep in thought, my pockets jingling with scallop shells I’d scooped up along the shore of Sengekontacket Pond, I stumbled out of the woods into an open field and spotted something in the distance that looked to me, in my foggy nearsighted world, like two whitecaps crowning a sea of greys. As I got closer, the whitecaps started barking. And the greys turned into the shimmering silver fleece of angora goats (like the one pictured below) and Cormo sheep.

Despite the barking (which gradually lessened), I was immediately drawn to these two striking white dogs, who were clearly protecting their flock—a flock, I soon learned, that was on loan from the Martha’s Vineyard Fiber Farm as part of an effort to restore natural grasslands through grazing. I knew the dogs were working, and that I shouldn’t bother them, but I couldn’t help having a tiny bit of conversation with them.

I was so intrigued by their snowy white fur and polar bear faces—not to mention their obvious devotion to their job—that I had to know more about them.  Over the months, I visited the farm’s web site many times, where I learned that Fettucini (female, red collar) and Biscotti (male, blue collar) are a breed called Maremma, a centuries-old Italian flock guardian that’s smart, independent, loyal, and extremely proficient at its job. Affectionate with family members and other farm animals, they are not, however, recommended as pets, as they aren’t happy if they’re not working.

A funny thing happened in my quest to learn more about the dogs. I got to be a big fan of Susan Gibbs’ hilarious first-hand sheep-raising blog. Susan is a former CBS news producer and journalist who started the first yarn CSA in the country.  Last week, I finally decided to contact Susan directly to ask her about the Maremmas. After she told me that she’s a big Fine Cooking fan, she related a story which confirmed to me how special these dogs are:

“Our dogs are incredibly loyal and gentle. The sheep and goats clearly drive them crazy sometimes, but they would do anything to protect them. When some teenagers broke into Felix Neck a couple of months ago and let the sheep and goats out, Fettucini followed the majority of the flock and stayed with them until we arrived, while Biscotti stayed with one of the nanny goats that had gotten caught in the fence. And whenever a new lamb or kid is born, Cini is always there, helping the mother lick the baby clean.”

Posted by Maryellen Driscoll

Growing food one year after the next reminds me of watching a favorite movie over and over and over again. The anticipation of certain crops is nearly as fun as their arrival. Our fresh shell beans (at right) fall into this category. It was weeks ago that I spied the beginnings of these beans, which would be easy to mistake for budding green beans. Since then I’ve watched eagerly as their pods proceeded to broaden and develop a spectacular rosy, mottled pattern while the beans grew plump and proceeded to bulge. As of last week the beans started to take on the same swirling pink-tinted pattern as the pods, which has meant, hurrah, their harvest now begins.

The curious thing about this spectacular bean is that most people don’t get quite as excited about the arrival as this crop as we do. That’s because most don’t seem to know what a fresh shell bean is. Even some of the excellent chefs we work with have asked for guidance. Those in the know run with them. At farmers markets, if we have the time to shell the beans ahead of time and sell in pint containers, we do. They’re more readily grabbed that way. We figure it’s their jewel-like appearance since, even with pods off, most people still need to ask what they are, how to cook them and what to do with them.

The cooking part is simple: Shell them and place them in a pot of water along with aromatics, such as onion, peppercorns and a bay leaf. (Last night I also threw in some carrot trimmings and a few sprigs of parsley I had on hand.) Bring to a boil, and then lower to a simmer until the beans are tender. Depending on the age of the beans, the cooking time varies. I recommend tasting after about 20 minutes.

We grow a fresh shell bean variety called Tongue of Fire. As with so many strikingly colored vegetables, these beans lose their dazzling color as they cook. That’s always a bit disappointing, but the creamy consistency of these fresh beans makes up for it.

As for what to do with them, we have one avid customer who buys them by the case and makes succotash. I can’t imagine who would eat that much succotash, but I’m not one to pry. I use them pretty much like I would any canned bean—in soups and probably more often in pastas. This time of year I love them tossed with a shaped pasta, like cavatappi, plus roasted cherry tomatoes, caramelized onion, garlic, basil and plenty of extra-virgin olive oil. They’d go equally well in a pasta with sautéed, diced eggplant or summer squash and bacon or sausage. But perhaps my favorite way to serve them is towards the end of their season—further into September. That’s when I’ll reduce the pan drippings of a roast chicken and toss the beans in along with some chopped roasted onions, minced garlic and thyme. I then spoon them over the carved meat or stir into a side of wilted greens, such as kale or chard. Sometimes I drizzle it all with a good-quality balsamico.

Fresh shell beans may not be the most familiar of foods, but they are easily transformed into a true comfort food. And that, I’d say, is a beautiful end to any story.

Posted Sarah Breckenridge

Since the height of summer, I've been enjoying fresh corn in my CSA share every other week, even though Patti doesn't grow the corn itself. Instead, she trades with a neighboring farm so that her CSA members get one of summer's essential vegetables.

This corn is a far cry from what you find at the supermarket—full of real corn-y flavor, but it's not one of those super-sweet hybrids that stays improbably sweet for days on end. In fact, on pick-up days I've taken to blanching and refrigerating whatever corn we won't eat that night, to freeze or use later in the week.

But last week I was inspired by Mark Bittman's blog to try a new cooking method for all that corn: grilling. Sure, I'd grilled corn on the cob before, but usually just enough for one meal. Bittman, on the other hand, has several good ideas for using leftovers, including corn fritters. His version is meant to evoke Thai flavors, but I wanted my corn pancakes to have all the hallmarks of elote, that delicious grilled corn on the cob sold by Mexican street vendors and slathered in lime, cayenne, and cotija cheese (or in my case, feta, since that's what I happened to have in the fridge).

I was pretty happy with the results, although I would have liked them a bit crisper. I think I may try using all flour next time instead of Bittman's cornmeal-flour blend. With all those grilled kernels, these pancakes were plenty corny as it is.

Mexican Grilled-Corn Pancakes
Yields about six 4-inch pancakes
BTW: Since the eggs from my CSA are unusual sizes, a small one was the perfect amount for this recipe. If you only have large eggs, use half of a beaten egg, or use a whole egg and double the rest of the ingredients.

1/4 cup cornmeal
1/4 cup flour
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 cups grilled corn kernels
1 small garlic clove, smashed
1 small egg
1 lime
1/2 minced serrano
vegetable oil, for cooking
1 Tbs. butter, melted
cayenne pepper
1/3 cup crumbled cotija or feta cheese

In a medium bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, 1/2 tsp. salt and a few grinds of pepper. Put 1 cup of the corn kernels, the egg, garlic clove, and juice from half of the lime in the carafe of a blender. Blend until the mixture is a thick puree (not perfectly smooth).

Add the puree, minced serrano, and the remaining 1 cup of corn kernels into the dry ingredients. Stir until just combined. Heat a cast-iron griddle to medium heat and oil it well. Drop roughly 1/4-cup spoonfuls of the batter onto the griddle and cook, turning once, until golden-brown on both sides. Transfer pancakes to a platter, brush with melted butter, and sprinkle with cheese and cayenne. Cut the remaining lime half into wedges and serve the pancakes with lime wedges on the side.