Pickled Beans

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of visiting one of my best girlfriends at the organic vegetable farm she shares with her husband up near Thornbury. It was a great window into the workings of a farm and what day-to-day life at the height of market season is really like.

Naturally, I pitched in and got my hands dirty, as any decent visitor would do. And indeed, from early morning to dusk, there was no shortage of jobs to be done. I was Laura’s sidekick, busying myself by helping with her usual duties.

Upon my arrival, we started by prepping an enormous lunch for the rest of the crew (her husband Ryan, his right hand man and their crew of teenaged volunteers – and ourselves, too) – spicy red lentil dahl, brown rice, greens with maple vinaigrette and steamed rainbow chard. Not exactly a light lunch, but the midday meal on a farm is often the biggest of the day, and rightly so.

We chatted up customers while doing farm gate sales (with the regulars commenting on Laura’s burgeoning belly – she’s expecting her first baby this winter). We sorted through a bin that held the last of the farm’s peas and picked out the nicest looking ones for a chef who wanted “all you’ve got.” We then had some quality quiet time to catch-up on the porch while we shelled all the nattier looking peas for ourselves – which were, of course, equally delicious, if not as pretty as the chef’s on the outside.

We filled and dropped off vegetable orders at two local restaurants, listening sympathetically to one discouraged chef as he admitted that although he adores the farm’s purple heirloom carrots, he’d had a couple of complaints from customers who thought they were rotten because they weren’t orange. We also picked herbs, answered the endlessly ringing phone, swatted flies, made granola and ate divinely yummy cheese and tomato sandwiches (fresh from the vine) for dinner. Not surprisingly, we were in bed by 10 p.m.

A good part of one day was also spent pickling, a bit of an exploratory activity for both of us because although Laura is a farm girl now, our childhood and teenage years were spent together in Golden Horseshoe suburbia, where pickles tend to come from the supermarket. Given that Laura and Ryan were drowning in green beans, we opted to pickle those – with visions of garnishing many a Caesar with them in the months ahead.

We consulted a couple of cookbooks and liked this recipe best, which comes from Simply In Season by Mary Beth Lind and Cathleen Hockman-Wert – an indispensable book for those who like cooking and eating when food is fresh from the fields and gardens. This recipe makes 10 to 12 pints but Laura and I opted to do six quarts instead.

Pickled Green Beans

5 to 6 lbs (2.5 to 3 kgs) green beans (the bigger and straighter, the better)
chili flakes
10 to 12 cloves garlic
10 to 12 dill heads

8 cups water
5 cups apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup pickling salt

Put one large garlic clove, a pinch of chili flakes and one dill head in each pint jar. Fill with straight beans, packing them in as tightly as possible. Make sure the length of the beans is about one centimeter from the top of the jar.

Bring water, vinegar and salt to a boil. Fill jars with brine to one centimeter of top. Place hot lids on jars and process in boiling water bath for 10 minutes. (Consult a book or look online for safe canning basics if you’re not sure).

Let stand for two to four weeks before eating.
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Laepple's Organic Farm

Experimental as we’ve all become in our cooking – what with all the cuisines we’ve been introduced to and the widespread availability of so many ingredients – there’s still something to be said for a good old meat and potato dinner.

Whether it’s a wintry Sunday supper of gravy-topped roast beef and mashed spuds or a more summer-friendly barbecued steak and baked potato, traditional fare can be a welcome respite from exotic flavours and the constant desire to try something new.

You could find all the fixings for that kind of meal – organic ones, in fact – at Laepple Organic Farm in the wee village of Shingletown. Fritz and Linda Laepple, who have been farming at their spot on Bleams Road (just southeast of Baden) since emigrating from Germany 10 years ago, grow a half-dozen varieties of potatoes, including the ever-popular Yukon Golds, reds, whites and russets. Many of the farm’s 25 acres of potatoes are sold wholesale to Pfenning’s Organic Farm but there are plenty available to buy at the farm gate.

That takes care of the potato side of things. And the meat? That would be courtesy of the Laepple’s cattle, which are fed grass, hay and some of those homegrown potatoes, but never grains. Cows, explains Linda, are not, by nature, designed to eat grain but are often fed corn and the like in order to be fattened up quickly. Grass-fed beef, she says, makes for lean meat that requires very little trimming.

The Laepples have about 140 cattle altogether, and sell their naturally raised, certified organic beef by the quarter, side or cut. There are burgers (just beef, no other ingredients added), pepperettes, summer sausage and soup bones for sale, too. And while they don’t normally sell veal, Laepple mentioned she’ll have some available in the near future. A wet summer has made for poor haying – and when there’s not enough hay, there’s not enough winter feed for all those mouths. That means some of the little ones will have to meet their maker.

There are several other things on offer at the farm, too, which isn’t surprising given that Linda estimates 90 per cent of what her family eats is grown right there. When I visited recently, I also bought a dozen eggs – thanks to the free-running hens that I had to dodge when pulling my car up the lane (the little ones make their home in a doors-open, run down old van – “Makes for good recycling!” Linda points out). And I ordered a tub of flour from the family’s mini-mill, which is housed in a large, metal shipping crate next to the garage. They grow rye, wheat and spelt on the farm and use the mill to grind several varieties of flour. Depending on the time of year, there might be tomatoes or other veg on offer from the family garden.

A perfect time to head up to Laepple’s is next Sunday (August 31) when the family hosts their 6th annual Potatofest. There will be a fully organic buffet served featuring their own roast beef (cooked in the outdoor wood-burning oven) and salads prepped by partnering farms in the LOFT (Local Organic Food Team) Coop program (a community supported agriculture produce box program in which the Laepple’s participate).

There will be hay rides and exhibitors and kids are given a little bag and the opportunity to head out to the field to dig up some potatoes to take home. (Stock up on local potatoes now and stash them in your cold cellar – if you’ve got one – so you’ll have them through winter. Linda says they should be packed in a sack or crate, so the air can reach them, and that 4C is the ideal temperature).

Potatofest is free but tickets do need to be reserved for the buffet dinner. They’re $12 for adults and $6 for children under 12 (but children under six are free) Contact the Laepple’s directly for more information.
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Heirloom Tomatoes

I don’t know about you, but when the salmonella scare a couple of months ago had restaurants and supermarkets pulling American tomatoes off their sandwiches and shelves, I didn’t feel hard done by. I don’t buy them and am inclined to cast them aside when eating out. Not because I fear salmonella, per se, but because they don’t seem worth eating.

As Barbara Kingsolver opined so aptly in her book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (a wonderful, essential read for anyone who eats– get thee to a bookstore), those blemish-free, coded and labeled import tomatoes “taste like slightly sour water with a mealy texture. I’m amazed those things keep moving through the market but the world apparently has tomato-eaters for whom ‘kinda reddish’ is qualification enough.”

Better, instead, to wait patiently to indulge in the feast, which starts about now (a little later than usual due to a cool spring) and lasts until frost. The real things are ripening on vines as we speak. They’re not always picture perfect – lumpy, oddly shaped and sometimes scabby. But, ah, the flavour. The juicy sweetness serves as a reminder that tomatoes are, indeed, a fruit. And the taste simply doesn’t compare to its imported counterpart.

There are actually thousands of varieties of tomatoes. Those we’ve become accustomed to pack up easily, travel well, look uniform and unblemished – because that’s what grocery shoppers want – and will last a very long time between picking and eating.

These days, you’ll see lots of locally grown romas, beefsteaks and cherry tomatoes at the farmers’ markets. But if you look a little closer, you’ll also find heirloom varieties. Their names alone will have you interested – Cherokee Purple, Persimmon, Hillbilly, Jubilee, Brandywine, Mortgage Lifter (named by its developer, who, legend has it, was able to pay off his house in short order after crossbreeding his best tomato plants and selling the resulting tomatoes for a good price).

Heirloom tomatoes range in colour from gold and green to dusky rose and purple. They come as tiny as a grape and as large as, well… apparently there’s a tomato named for Dolly Parton, so I’ll let you use your imagination.

Brenda Knechtel grows about 10 heirloom varieties (plus standards, like beefsteak) on the farm she shares with husband Maynard near Wellesley. Reading through the seed catalogue for tomatoes, she says, “is like having a history lesson” because, in some cases, varieties date back hundreds of years (the Persimmon, for example, traces back to 1781) and to places all over the world. Her Matt’s Cherry tomatoes are grown from seeds passed down by an aunt who sold vegetables at the Kitchener market for 50 years and was given the seeds by one of her customers.

Heirloom vegetables, Knechtel says, pull more nutrients from the soil than hybrids – so not only do they taste better, they’re better for you. The hybrids, she says, are all about “society’s need for perfection.”

Heritage tomatoes are certainly outweighed by standard types at the farmers’ markets but they’re there if you look for them. You can also buy from Knechtel Family Farm directly, where they welcome customers six days a week (no Sundays) between 8 and 6. There’s no stand, but they’ll pick vegetables (none of which are sprayed) right there for you – it doesn’t get much fresher than that. (“People come by expecting a stand and say, ‘Well, show us what you’ve got,’ ” laughs Knechtel. Gesturing to the crops around her, she says, “I say, ‘It’s all right here.’ ”).

For directions to Knechtel Family Farm, check out the Buy Local! Buy Fresh! map. And happy tomato feasting. Enjoy them while you can – the famine lies ahead!

Mapleton's Organics

Martin de Groot says he probably makes the best ice cream in Canada – he’ll even challenge anyone who thinks otherwise.

de Groot who, with his wife Ineke Booy, owns Mapleton’s Organic Dairy near Moorefield (not too far from Conestoga Lake), says his ice cream is superior to its kin because “it’s such an honest product.” Indeed, it has a rather simple ingredient list – cream from the farm’s cows, eggs from their chickens, fair-trade sugar, chocolate and vanilla. No “modified milk ingredients” here.

de Groot and Booy emigrated from Holland in 1980 and began dairy farming in the area soon after. They started doing so the conventional way but, after 10 years, were uncomfortable with the impact that type of farming was having on the earth, their health, and the health of their animals. They made the switch to organic and, in 1999, decided to start using their milk to make ice cream. They built a small ice cream plant on site and had their first batch by the spring of 2000.

Today, Mapleton’s, which is certified organic, produces ice cream, frozen yogurt and both fat-free and full-fat yogurt from the milk of their 75 cows. (The fat free and frozen yogurt were a natural progression – it allowed them to use what was left of the milk after the cream was skimmed off to make ice cream). Their products are sold across Canada, mostly in health food stores, although, as of about a week ago, they can be found at all Sobey’s stores in Ontario. Ice cream comes in vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, cappuccino and chocolate chip while frozen yogurt comes in vanilla, strawberry and lemon (so creamy, you’d never guess it was low in fat – try the lemon with some of summer’s fresh, wild blueberries – yum!)

Many commercial ice creams, de Groot says, are pumped full of air. And, he adds, “with three-quarters of the ingredients, you have to be a chemist to know what they are.” He also points out that his ice cream doesn’t leave one with that icky post-eating thirst – a sure sign, he says, of a product with added whey powder or salt.

For the full Mapleton’s experience, it’s worth taking a drive up to the farm, where there’s an ice cream café on site – and the added bonus of flavours beyond what you’ll find in the store (ginger, maple, chocolate cherry, dandelion – and seasonal ones like blueberry and pumpkin). The café also serves organic lunches and has other food products for sale. (There’s also plenty to do – they’re interested in showing visitors how the food circle works, so there’s a demonstration barn, wagon rides, mazes and various other activities on site).

de Groot says when his family started organic farming, they were “the weirdos in the neighbourhood. They all said, ‘It’s great in theory but you’re gonna go broke.’ ”

So much for that thought. “It has been quite a journey, but an exciting journey,” de Groot says. He’s heartened that customers are becoming more interested in local and organic eating. With that in mind, he feels that skyrocketing energy prices are nothing but a blessing.
“It helps us get back to the days of local food systems,” he says.

Once the “weirdo,” he now gets a kick out his young employees and interns. “They’re pushing me, now,” he laughs. “They’re so passionate.”

Berries

It’s peak season for summer fruit, without a doubt, and it’s hard to make a trip to the market these days without coming away with more berries, cherries and plums than a person can possibly consume. And the peaches are just getting started! My fridge and counters are currently overflowing with raspberries, currants, cherries, blueberries and strawberries (the ever-bearing variety are still growing).

No complaining, though. Now’s the time to gorge, whether it’s simply by handfuls as you pass through the kitchen or whether you’re feeling more ambitious – in which case there’s no shortage of recipes for crisps, cobblers, platzes and pies to be made.

Now’s also a great time to freeze those berries on cookie sheets (then baggies) for muffins, pancakes and smoothies – so we can at least have a tiny taste of summer freshness during the cold, dark days ahead. It’s my goal this year to tuck away as much local summer produce as I can, whether it’s frozen or preserved.

The latter is something I’m just wading into. All the crazy equipment, the boiling, the fear of botulism – it’s always seemed too daunting. But last week I got my feet wet by making five jars of achingly sweet, deep red summer berry jam. Indeed, it was a bit of a process. But on the scale of complicated cooking tasks, I’d say it ranked on the simpler end. Yes, my kitchen looked like a crime scene when I was done, thanks to the process of pitting cherries and crushing currants. But come January, I’ll be eating my jam-smothered toast with thanks.

Here’s the recipe for Four Fruit Red Jam (from my new – and now stained – summer companion, The Complete Book of Small-Batch Preserving by Canadian authors Ellie Topp and Margaret Howard). Now’s the time to make it; all four fruits are still in season – but not for long. This recipe made five 250mL jars.

Four Fruit Red Jam

2 cups raspberries, crushed
2 cups red currants, crushed
2 cups strawberries, crushed
1-1/2 cups sour cherries, crushed
4 cups granulated sugar
¼ cup lemon juice

1. Place raspberries, currants, strawberries, cherries, sugar and lemon joice in a large stainless steel or enamel saucepan. Cover and let stand 10 minutes.

2. Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring constantly. Boil rapidly, uncovered, until mixture will form a gel, about 15 minutes, stirring frequently. Remove from heat.

3. Ladle into hot jars and process in a boiling-water canner for 10 minutes. (If you’re unsure about this step, consult a book or look online for rules on safe canning methods.)