Posted by Susie Middleton

Like the Energizer Bunny, some vegetables keep right on going, against all odds. Freezing cold, biting wind, no matter. Those tasty cruciferous vegetables like broccoli, kale, and Brussels sprouts love that stuff. So even though winter has finally arrived on the island, there are still plenty of fresh, local vegetables around.

I took a spin through Morning Glory Farm’s fields the other day and noticed that this fall’s broccoli planting is now under row cover—those polypropylene blankets that Maryellen laid down on her upstate New York farm as long ago as early October.

Another field looked like a Dr. Seuss landscape—row after row of knobby, gangly Brussels sprouts plants. This wasn’t a pretty sight until I got up close and noticed that some of the sprouts were tinged with a lovely lavender color (photo). I assumed they were kissed by frost, but I’ve since discovered that there are purple sprout varieties. A good one is called Falstaff.

I can eat Brussels sprouts any day, but lately I’ve been thinking about my Christmas dinner menu. (Well, truthfully, since I created a holiday menu (“A Modern Christmas” ) for Fine Cooking this year, and since I’ll be answering your holiday questions online in a few weeks, I’ve been thinking a little too much about Christmas dinner).  Anyway, I thought Brussels sprouts would be a good local addition.

Last night I made a dish that’d be perfect for the holidays. It’s even red and green. I used my quick-braising method, starting with about a half-pound of Brussels sprouts, cut in half, and one Honey Crisp apple, cut into chunks. I used chicken broth and local apple cider for the braising liquid and finished the dish with a bit of butter, a drizzle of local honey, and a touch of vinegar. And since I’m still trying to use those darn hickory nuts I’ve got, I garnished the dish with some of them. I’ve discovered, after literally breaking a nut cracker and the tip of a paring knife, that a sledge hammer works best for cracking. (Put the nuts under a towel first.) I hate to say it, but you might want to use walnuts or pecans (local or not) in your version.

Posted by Susie Middleton

I see a pretty apple, I buy it. Not several, just one. Lately, I’ve been collecting local apples, taking pictures of them and then adding them to a growing arrangement on my dining room table. Yeah, occasionally I actually eat one, too. But this morning I looked at the whole lot of them and thought: apple tart.

It occurred to me that for anyone who wants to add some local food to the Thanksgiving table, apples are a great bet since they grow everywhere. And just on the Fine Cooking website alone, there are dozens of killer apple desserts and pies (and I know, I’ve tasted almost all of them at some time or another). But I tend to get stuck on one thing I really like, so this morning I decided on an apple galette (also called a rustic fruit tart). I first learned to make these free-form tarts when I was a cook at Al Forno Restaurant in Providence, Rhode Island, years ago, but I’ve come to really like pastry chef Joanne Chang’s method, because her dough is easy to handle and holds up well in the oven. I do make my dough in the food processor, though, rather than the stand mixer, as it cuts the butter in more evenly and makes a flakier crust.

This weekend someone gave me a bunch of wild hickory nuts, so I wanted to incorporate them into my tart. At first I bashed away at them with a heavy frying pan, picking pieces of shell out of the sugar bowl and off my sweater. Then I got smart and went online. I discovered you have to soak them in hot water before trying to crack them. That worked, but I still had to nudge the nut meat out of the shell with a paring knife.

I added some of the nuts (finely chopped) to the dough and mixed the rest with the sugar I sprinkled on top of the tart. For the apple filling, I used the Jonagold, the Macoun, and a new variety called a Yataka Fuji. When the tart came out of the oven, I waited (not very patiently) for it to cool, and then cut a slice. It was awesome, the crust super-flaky. I think it was one of the best galettes I’ve ever made. But then again, with apples, butter, honey, cinnamon, nuts…it’s hard to go wrong. If you want to make one of these for Thanksgiving, the dough can be made ahead and refrigerated.

Posted by Susie Middleton

Turkeys are now officially my least favorite farm animal. This cutie (at right) pecked me twice while I was trying to take his picture. I guess I deserved it, because I was awfully close and I didn’t have any food for him. I was simply trying to be a good blogger and track down the freshest turkey on Martha’s Vineyard. And I found them. I mean him.

When Sarah and I chatted about her turkey quest a few weeks ago, I told her I’d been surprised to learn that no one out here was yet raising turkeys—heritage or otherwise.  But it got me wondering what people would do if they really wanted a local bird for Thanksgiving. So I went on a quest, too.

At first I thought at least some people must be eating wild turkeys, as they’re everywhere out here. I was right: they’re eating them, only not legally. So I can’t tell you some of the hilarious ways people dispatch these not-so-smart, overly aggressive birds that wander into their yards. But I can tell you that one up-island acquaintance recently dressed a wild turkey that had been hit by a car but not badly damaged. (Don’t laugh! Roadkill is a very efficient way to eat local.) Everyone I talked to had a different solution for tenderizing these notoriously leathery fowl; I thought slow-smoking sounded the most appealing.

Realizing that wild turkeys probably weren’t going to be the centerpiece of most Vineyard thanksgiving tables, I asked farmer Jim Athearn what he’d be selling at Morning Glory Farm. I was relieved to hear that he brings in birds from Bongi Turkey Farm in Duxbury, Mass., so with a simple pre-order, anyone on the island can have a fresh turkey. But Jim also told me that there was, in fact, one small flock of meat birds over at the FARM Institute.

So when I pulled in there today, I was elated to see three beautiful white Royal Palm turkeys (at left) splashing in the puddles. But these friendly guys turned out just to be residents. A smaller, ornamental breed that’s on Slow Food’s list of disappearing foods, the Royal Palm is apparently very tasty, but right now the FARM only has three of them.

Soon enough I spotted the meat birds over in the barnyard. These characters, a breed called Broad-Breasted Bronze, have the coloring of wild turkeys but the broad breasts of their widely grown commercial cousins. They were already all spoken for. All, that is, except a couple of 32-pounders. I’m sorry to say I won’t be on-island for Thanksgiving, because there’s one particular 32-pounder I wouldn’t mind stuffing.

Posted by Maryellen Driscoll

One weekend this fall we could not make it to one of our farmers’ markets, so two bighearted friends volunteered to cover for us. They left here at 5 a.m. Hot coffees in hand. Van fully loaded. They returned 12 hours later. Vehicle emptied. Spirits high. The entire day was chock-full of eye openers...and that's without even meeting the customer who travels by roller skates and professes to be a superhero (seriously). What truly awed our friends were the relationships we have developed with the people who come to the market to buy their food. They couldn’t believe how many people knew us by name and were all in a tizzy about our whereabouts that weekend. Some took a double-take at the banner on our tent to make sure they were still buying from Free Bird Farm.

Most of these customers come faithfully every week. Many know our children’s names, as we know theirs. We often talk about food—the things we cook or plan to make that week. Some will bring us baked goods or samples of food they’ve made with our produce.

Week after week after week, people come to our stand faithfully and often pause to genuinely thank us for growing their food before they tote it away.

That appreciation carries us. And the relationships and friendships we’ve developed with so many amazing, generous, interesting (sometimes even famous) people we’ve met through our farmers’ markets and CSA enrich our lives and give greater meaning to all that we do. We’re not just stewards of the land. We are feeding clean, healthful, locally-grown food to people we’ve come to know along with their families, friends and sometimes neighbors.

So this blog is meant to be an expression of thanks to the many amazing people who support us and help keep the spring in our step. It’s also meant to goad those of you on who haven’t discovered your local or regional farmers’ markets to do so. Become a regular or seek out a CSA. Or do both.

Find yourself a farmer (or two or three…). You’ll be glad; the farmer(s) will too.

(P.S.- find yourself a Certified Naturally Grown farmer, and he or she might have one of these clever yellow bumper stickers for you too.)

Posted by Sarah Breckenridge

I’m no football fan, but a few weeks ago, I went through an ordeal that I’d imagine was a bit akin to getting Super Bowl tickets. Except I was ordering my Thanksgiving turkey.

Not just any turkey, mind you. After years of indoctrination by Slow Food, I’d decided that this year, I was going to serve a heritage turkey on my Thanksgiving table.

A little background: More than 99% of all the turkeys sold in U.S. supermarkets are of one breed: the Broad-Breasted White. The breed has been fine-tuned to deliver lots of the white meat that Americans love, but they’re not the most flavorful birds. So some farmers have dedicated themselves to raising and preserving breeds, like the Bourbon Red, that were common in America before the turkey industry became, well, an industry. These breeds are said to have the flavor that the standard turkeys notoriously lack.

But I wanted to taste for myself, so I set about looking for my own heritage turkey. Slow Food and LocalHarvest.org all have helpful links to heritage-breed farmers, but I soon discovered that, in September, I was already too late. Farmers near me were all sold out; with some, I would have had to put a deposit down back in the spring (who has their Thanksgiving plans in place in April?). Mail-order was an option, but I figured having a turkey shipped long-distance sort of defeated the whole philosophy of slow, local food.

So finally, I took the (relatively) easy way out: buying through Stone Barns Center for Food and Agriculture, a non-profit educational farm in the Hudson Valley (close enough to count as local). Still, the buying process smacked of the absurd. I’d gotten an email earlier in the month to alert me that sales would start September 22, and I put a reminder on my calendar: Order turkey from Stone Barns!

At 9 am sharp, I called the turkey hotline, only to get voicemail. Had I already missed my window? Had the birds all sold out to Stone Barns members, who get a chance to buy early? I left my name and number, and later in the day my call was returned. I put down a deposit on the turkey (yeah, I never thought I’d write that sentence either), and was instructed to pick up the bird at Stone Barns between 3 and 3:30 pm the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.

So now an 8-lb. Bourbon Red and I have a date with destiny. Will it be worth all the effort? I certainly hope so. Stay tuned.