New Year's Eve

Tonight we returned home to our "temporary" abode after two long days working on the farm. Yesterday we rented the uber-rototiller and went to town preparing for Spring and beyond. Originally when I walked into our island hardware store to rent a tiller I was thinking something along the lines of what you may see on an infomercial, but when the man at the rental counter showed me the hydraulic tiller supreme with reverse tine action and disengageable wheels for easing moving while powered-down I just saw my farm chores in the palm of my hand.

We put the word out to friends and by the grace of something larger than us, our friend who used to run a large equipment/earth moving company said he would be happy to babysit the tiller ALL DAY. So there we were, Christian our friend with the tiller, Toby with the tractor, kids with the smiles, and me with the finger pointed to where to dig, till, dump, and plant. In just the first day we doubled the size of the garden to around 80 feet by 40 feet, and tilled some empty places in the orchard where we intend to put in a few more trees to eventually bring us up to a cool 100 total. The second day of work we battled with the evidence of a rat in the apple stores, snow flying, and a lack of power tools. Even still we were able to reposition lots of berry plants, hopefully doubling the growing capacity of our tastiest cash crop and tucking them in for the next few cold weeks with compost and a layer of straw.

Before tucking the kids in to bed tonight we stopped to wish each other a happy new year, because tomorrow is the start of the new "lunar" year. We love observing the lunar new year as a true turning point in our lives every year. We like it because it tends to be a bit separate from the cluster of holidays in December, and rather than following a date on the calendar it follows the cycle of the moon. The moon, we are learning on the farm, is really the Mother of Nature. It's pull is felt by the plants, and depending on where the planets are in the night sky the moon can work some magic on what we offer up to grow in our soil. We also love the lunar new year, because it is so ancient and tied to Asian culture, something we are very passionate about. Although we visit our international district way more than the average "white" family, we always feel out of place. When we take the kids into a Chinese medicine shop we are often ignored as the shop owner probably assumes we are lost or tourist from some far away place. It is only after we make the effort to engage in conversation or ask if they have sichuan peppercorns, or cloud ear mushrooms that the ice is broken and we are welcomed as if we are family. But during the lunar new year you see people of all colors and backgrounds mingling without reservation in a neighborhood that for just one week is loud, delicious, grandiose, and especially beautiful. This week we eat Asian food every day, oranges for luck, long noodles for long life, and dim sum and bubble tea as we watch the dragon dances. We light firecrackers to scare away bad spirits and bad luck and share our riches with our children so that they may do the same with their children some day. We love this week maybe in someways more than any other holiday, because no one in our immediate circle of friends and family have any expectations of us. We are both anonymous in our celebrations and very open and public in our love of all the ancient traditions. And each year we reach out to others to join in our complete joy revolving around this turning of the moon, the first new one of the year.

We look forward to this new year, the year of the Ox, with anticipation of our own oxen abilities. We push tillers, hoe rows, pull weeds, and work out in the open under the elements. We eat and drink well, sleep a little, and breathe in the fresh air. We are hopeful for a great harvest, but take each day as it comes. We do the jobs that need to be done every day and marvel at how they add up to more than their sum. And most of all we thank our lucky stars....and moon.

Blessings All Around.

Last weekend we officially blessed the farm. And in true Holmestead fashion it was a grand celebration with great friend and family and fabulous food and drink. We chose today because it coincided with the 200th anniversary of the Messe du Sovenir des Charcutiers; or mass of remembrance for the guild of butcher who create hams, sausages and pates. So what you say? Take a moment and think about the importance of this group of "artists" and the many connections they have to us as burgeoning farmers.

We have really tightened our belts to swing the purchase of the farm and preparing for its transformation into our permanent home. One of the greatest savings we have discovered is eating as locally as possible, mostly from our own garden, and when we eat meat it is often the "nasty bits" that taste so good if treated right, and cost so much less than the more traditional cuts. We have cultivated friendships with fellow farmers to find out who are the good slaughters and butchers on the island and surroundings. We have asked more questions of chefs, and cooks at every restaurant we visited and community gathering. And we have read way too many books on how to grow your own, slaughter your own, grind your own, and cure your own food.

So when I heard that November 16th was the 200th anniversary of honoring this guild of butchers it seemed like a wonderful reason to eat, drink, and hold church in our favorite sanctuary: the farm. What resulted from our call out to friends and family was a triumphant affirmation of friendship, generosity, and lots and lots of humor. We pressed cider for hours, and even ended up with a little left over despite the long line of kids (and a few adults) catching the fresh juice in paper cups. We could not wait for Toby to deliver his homily before diving into the food, and were happy that we did. The fog of the morning, of our minds, of the state of things, burned off just after noon. Toby lead almost 90 of us down into the field and gave a heartfelt thanks and praise. And then we all got back to eating!

Some of the most memorable dishes were:
Lise and Tamlyn's Pigs in a blanket (what makes it the perfect dish is Lise's professional cooking background)
Ann's plate of trotters
PK's Thai pork with yummy rice and rooster sauce
Wiley's chocolate chip cookies with crackling's
Andrew and Erin's offerings from Canada (is it legal to bring cured meat across the border?)
Steve's rillettes
Bill and Shirley's spare ribs
The Hammer's showing up with enough various pork products to feed us all twice
The Vegetarians Kathleen and Bryce showing up with Kielbasa
And the fabulous array of salumi from Salumi

It was absolutely stunning to see the thought and creativity that so many people put into what they brought to the party. It reminded us all that we chose to gather that day, we chose to be friends, we chose to create this community. And what a fabulous foundation we set for all of us in this vacillating time hope and uncertainty. Thanks everyone.
Here is a copy of Toby's Homily, enjoy:
The Blessing of the Farm

The sun shines of us all today after days of fall rain. Like the growing plants around us, we welcome the energy to renew our spirits. And we welcome you here today for a gathering of friends and family for many reasons to take pause and celebrate. We celebrate the bounty of the fall harvest. We celebrate the sale of the Seattle house and the ability to now pursue our vision for Holmestead Farms and share that vision with you. We celebrate by pressing cider together, enjoying each other’s company—making new friends and reconnecting with long time friends. And honoring the pig.

Our gustatory theme today is the natural pairing of apples and pork. Today, November 16th, marks the 200th anniversary of the charcutiers mass of remembrance. In 1513 the charcutiers formed their own guild and broke from the general butcher trade. The mass honors the makers of sausages, hams, and pates. By the way, Saint Anthony is the patron saint of the chacutiers—thanks Tony. And the pig is a great and appropriate symbol of a farm—pigs eat the scraps and eventually become food, with virtually every single part of the pig edible.

We want to thank everyone who is here today for supporting us in our move to Vashon and in our first season of production. Each of you, in some way, helped us and we appreciate your support and love.

Remember the original Stuart Brothers roasterie in the old Country Store building—the current location of Minglemint, now a central gathering place to share a good cup of coffee or chew the fat with buddies? How about the monks who have been roasting coffee for ever? And now, Vashon has a vigorous farmers market, the most active fruit club chapter in Western Washington and beyond organic farms like Sea Breeze, other family farms like Greenman Farm, Hogsback, and others. And how about the underground dining at Kurtwood? Vashon has a productive and engaged farm and food culture.

There’s a demand for local produce, dairy, and meats. In preparation for this party, the woman at Salumi in charge of wholesale accounts asked when they can buy our eggs. We’ve sold berries and apples at the local farmers market, through Bernie and Norine, and privately by the box. Much more to come next year. We’re excited about people’s interest in knowing where their food comes from and who grows it. Ultimately our vision for Holmestead Farms is to include the production and sale of honey, preserves, pickles, produce, eggs, and fruit. And we intend to have culinary gatherings, cooking classes, and private dining events.

Why are we doing this? We firmly believe that the sharing of food is the key to building a community—to break bread with one another. Growing our food connects us with the land, the air, and the water and reminds us that these are delicate resources to be handled with respect and care. Our animals have personalities and are well loved, especially the ones that become food. Food brings us together, slows us down, and nourishes our bodies. And it’s important for conveying our family values to our kids.

May we all be blessed to find and develop a greater community through the connections provided to us by sharing food. We bring together friends and family to celebrate each other, the bounty of the harvest and to give thanks for our resources, both the natural resources and our individual industrial efforts. May we not take these for granted.

Let’s remember our obligation to treat the earth, air, and water with respect, like the essential relationship between bees and apples trees. Neither survive without the other. Let’s remember the value of communing with others and the significance of sharing food—for sustenance, pleasure, and for art. Let’s remember to give and receive graciously and thankfully.

It takes soil, rain, sun, seeds, tender care and patience to raise a good turnip, apple, or raspberry. It takes magic and chemistry to make a great meal or vint wine. But it takes human interaction and love to make any of it worth while or taste good.

As Pere Luc Forestier, the pastor of the church in Paris where the mass occurs every years says, “It’s not just about taking care of an organic need of the human body, but, more important, about providing what responds to our desire of conviviality, for sharing, for good taste, for beauty.” Amen.

Taking a Vacation from the Micro

A few days ago we headed off island to join a celebration for a friend's birthday. It was the first time we, as a family, went back to the city since we sold our house there. It was a strange feeling to be "back" where we used to live, but have no touchstone, no home base. At first, I was nervous, would the conversations be forced and awkward with friends we had not seen in months? Would I be able to talk about something other than farming? (Is there anything other than farming?) Would G & F find some city manners, and adjust to the hustle and bustle they had not visited since September?

The party turned out to be great. Seeing old friends was just the shot in the arm we needed. We shared "farm tales" with friends who then wanted to sign up to come out and help us. We laughed at their hectic, frenetic lives and how they manage to keep all their balls in the air. G & F quickly found their peeps and invented game after game in between happily eating food that is so far away from farm cooking it seemed like a vacation. All of this got me to thinking as we rode the ferry back to our little bubble of civilization. Maybe we could extend our vacation just one more day.

The next morning we hooked the kids up for a playdate with their Omi, while Toby set to work doing chores and I got in the ferry line off the island. I was armed with five Asian cook books a few shopping bags, and determined to buy up the makings for an Asian feast. We have eaten so close to home ever since we moved to the island, partly to keep within our new tight budget, partly because we can get such wonderful food straight from our own land. I felt like we could all use a trip away from our 10-mile diet and enjoy a vacation on our dinner plate.

A few hours later, I had bags bursting with all kinds of treasures from fresh Jujubes to pork belly, lacquered duck and Sechuan peppercorns. My head was filled with all the advice I received from proud merchants excited to see a tall out-of-place white chick looking to make a good meal. On my way out of the ID I grabbed a jasmine bubble tea with tapioca hopped in my yummy smelling car and headed for the ferry.

Back on the island we put in a team effort with friends to construct a feast of Cashew shrimp, Snow peas with fresh water chestnuts, Braised tofu with pork and mushrooms, Gai lan in ginger sauce, Pork belly with cabbage, and Crab in chile sauce.
We ate until we were stuffed, and the kids were running wild. We drank the wrong wine, and didn't care; we were on vacation from the norm.

At night's end we were sated and home again, on Vashon, with a list of farm chores longer than our arms. But just that little break, the different smells, tastes, techniques, and people, helped me return to my responsibilities on the farm with a renewed energy. It is so wonderful to live on an island that is just as far away from things as we want and need it to be.

Take a Moment to Sit and Say Thanks

Yesterday was one of those juggles. Toby was gone from early in the morn until way past every one's bedtime. Thankfully, one of the "Omis" swept the kids away on an island adventure for a few hours while I tried to preserve the last of the summer harvest. This latest round of kitchen mania included a double batch of green tomato chutney, and yet a few more loaves of zucchini bread for the freezer. As we plowed through the day we all accomplished a lot, although we missed a crucial element: the farm.

Some of you may not understand our current living situation, so I will distill it quickly to bring everyone to the same page. In January of 2008 we decided to buy the farm, pun only half intended, on Vashon. The farmhouse is way to small to house our crazy, energetic family so we got to work planning a remodel. In June we moved to Vashon to be close to the farm, the remodel, and start maintaining the orchard, field, chickens, and gardens. Since the farmhouse is too small we decided to rent a nice home a few miles away. In July we put our Seattle home on the market, and hope to finally close the sale of it in a few days. Whew, I get tired just explaining!

This somewhat fractured living situation keeps us constantly in flux. Almost every morning the kids ask if we can/need/have to go the farm and when. Sometimes it is not until the lights are all off and we are drifting off to sleep when we remember that we never went back to the farm to tuck in all the chickens and make sure the gate is locked. And it really stings when you head to the farm to do a specific thing, like press cider, and realize once you are there that you forgot what you needed back at the rental house, like all of the clean gallon jugs to hold said cider!

Last night, after G & F and I finished an early dinner I mentioned to them that I missed going to the farm that day. They both responded that they too missed the farm, and especially the chickens; they LOVE the chickens. So we all hopped into the bus and drove over to say goodnight to the "girls" and just be. As I paused at the beginning of our long driveway to collect my voter's ballot from the mail, I could see one of the two regular families of deer waiting for us up near the gate. We drove slowly so as not to disturb them and G&F called out happy greetings while we passed them by. The chickens were already roosting for the night, but seemed to enjoy being held for a bit and treated with some stale popcorn the kids saved for them. Finally, after making sure everything was secure we went running down to the orchard in the fading light of the day. Darwin dog lead us to a beautiful tree near the bottom of the orchard and there we all sat listening to the coming night noises. We all unwound and leaned against each other for support as we watched the sun set behind us and the moon rise in front of us. We listened to the ducks fly up from the neighbors pond (ducks are surprisingly loud fliers) and the occasional car driving by on the road below. Gus declared that he was happy, and could hardly wait until we were always here on the farm, and just as I was starting to choke up Freja jumped up declared that the day was done and started running back to the bus to head back for story time. I smiled, hugged Gus, grabbed his hand and we chased Darwin and Freja all the way up the field. The grass below our feet appeared iridescent with the rising moonlight, and the field smelled sweet and wet as we ran through it. As we drove away from the farm and back to the rental house no one really spoke, we all just breathed in the night, and I bet we were all thinking the same thing: we are so glad to be here.

The Way to the Heart

The rains have found their way to our island farm. We snuck a few seeds in the ground just as the first drops hit the back of our neck, and said a little prayer for what we can reap in the upcoming months. Broccoli Raab tossed with fresh sausage, lots of garlic, breadcrumbs, and good pasta is always a winner at our place. A big bowl of borscht with beets from the garden and beef from a local farm is perfect on a cold winter night. French radishes dipped in butter and salt help us forget that we are in the middle of the rainy season. And lactino kale baked in a very hot oven become irresistable chips that go with anything. Food is such a pleasure in our home, and although our kids are not the most adventurous eaters, and if given the choice would definitely opt for anything with ketchup over a kale chip, they are happy to devour many healthy snacks that we make together.
A favorite treat in our house is homemade graham crackers. My oldest son, Gus, told me the other day in astonishment that he just discovered you could buy graham crackers! He admitted that he was given some as a snack at Summer camp, and although they were "really yummy" they were not as fun as ours that we make at home. Our homemade crackers are a staple in the kids' lunches, and have stirred a lot of interest for the recipe from teachers, parents, and other kids. So here you go, roll out some dough on a rainy day like today. Let your kitchen get messy with something you can eat instead of just the usual play dough. No matter how my kids abuse this dough with ridiculous sprinklings of flour "snow", or how ever many times they roll, cut and then roll again, these always taste great. Just make sure you dock the dough before it goes in the oven (prick it with a fork several times) to ensure the crackers bake evenly. Oh, and have the milk ready for dunking.

Graham Crackers
1 ½ C Flour
1 ¼ C Graham flour
½ tsp Salt
½ tsp Baking soda
½ tsp Cinnamon

¾ C Butter
1/3 C Sugar
¼ C Brown sugar
¼ C Honey
1 tsp Vanilla
1 Egg

Mix dry ingredients and set aside. Beat cold butter till soft. Add sugars then honey, vanilla, and finally egg. Continue to mix until egg is completely combined. Add dry ingredients to mixer and beat until fairly stiff dough forms. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and chill for several hours or overnight. Roll out dough to ¼ inch thick. Cut into 3 inch squares and bake at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes, or until dark golden brown. Note: you can play around a bit with proportions in this recipe, for example I usually use more graham flour and a little less white flour.

How to Get Rich Without Turning a Profit

So the peaches are definitely in, and picked, and peeled, and frozen, and canned, and eaten. What a complete surprise to get about a bushel of peaches from our few trees (five) and even after we balked at pruning them or doing any other kind of maintenance.

The last two days Gus and Freja have attended camp at Huckleberry Kids and I used the time to can, pickle, jam, or bake everything I could get my hands on. (the pickled purple cabbage from the garden was my favorite) This morning I picked more blackberries in the hopes that we will end up with enough to attempt a batch of wine along with grape wine this fall. Raspberries are just starting to ripen, and it is such a treat to have them after all the other berries we enjoyed so far.

This morning I walked the orchard to pick up ground falls and nearly blew a gasket when I found the second pear tree that has been completely ravaged by something not human. The first tree was bad enough, a strong open tree with about ten big pears, all half-eaten, still hanging from their stems. If you looked at the tree from just the right angle it looked like we had some good fruit going, until you walked around to the other side to see that each pear was a hollow shell! I quietly plucked off the skeletons and chalked it up to the necessary payment to the "garbage collectors" in this neck of the orchard. Now a second tree has been pillaged and the worst thing about it is that there was only one pear on the tree to begin with! When I found it this morning it looked like an Asian chef attempted fruit carving on the poor specimen, or that a cartoon firecracker blew out one side of the pear.
I instantly started to think of ways to thwart future attacks, because (for those of you who have not yet visited we have more than a few trees) I have put way to many hours into coddling this orchard to have some free-loaders blow it all to Valhalla. Is is wrong to want to camp out in the orchard with a bb gun, or wire a few of the most vulnerable trees with low voltage?

Then I caught myself and started adding up the cost of various ways to keep pests away, and was reminded of the $20 homegrown tomato. We are trying so hard to produce enough food to feed us and others, as if it is a money saver/money maker. Who am I kidding? We have spent about a hundred dollars in seeds and starts along this year, not to mention soil amendments, tools, pest traps, and plenty of sugar, vinegar, and pectin for all the things that come out of the garden. I guess I need to reframe my expectations away from "saving/making money" to "owning" a lifestyle change. I am no longer the city mouse curious about life outside of the neat borders of metropolis. I am the country mouse, like it some days, and maybe not so much others. We are so at peace out here (even if you do see me chasing down racoons with a shovel) and feel so much more connected to each other than we did in the city. Gus asked today if he could stay at camp after it was time to go home. I told him that I was sorry, but we had other chores to do. He smiled and said, "Then lets get going!" and that is just what we did.

Robert Frost Peach

Today I took a break from chores and enjoyed the first ripe peach from the orchard. I sat next to Darwin under the tree and tried to really taste each bite and enjoy the juice dripping down my chin. I then looked up that this very tree and started to count all the peaches that remained to be picked and noticed that some of them are very high up in the tree. I then looked around the whole orchard, all 71 trees, and started to realize that even though Summer's harvest is in full swing, this is the calm before the storm.
I used to read a lot of Robert Frost; Mending Wall is probably my favorite of his. He wrote a short poem about apples that I never paid much mind to, but now I am thinking about getting it tattooed across the back of my sunburned neck:

For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.

Here are all the different varieties of fruit trees in the orchard:

Frost Peach

Italian Plum
Santa Rosa Plum
Brooks Plum
Beauty Plum

Pear:
Bosc
Chojuro
Nitaka
Ubileen
Bennett
Bartlet
Sirrine
Orcas
Concorde
Wenatchee Gold
Highland

Apples:
Striped Gravenstein
Red Gravenstein
Williams Pride
Chehalis
Glowing Coal
Blushing Golden
Melrose
Akane
Spartan
Buckley Giant
Boskoop
Sunrise
Stayman Winesap
Baldwin
Keepsake
Bleniem Orange
Honeycrisp
Hudson's Gem
Bramley's Seedling
Jonagold
Aroma
Spitzenburg
Sweet Sixteen
EasyGro
Cox Orange Pippen

Growing New Fruit and Vegetables

A peach growing in our orchard.

Swiss Chard in the raised beds.

Welcome Post

Welcome to Holmstead Farms on Vashon Island. We pursue the cultivation of organic Pacific Northwest vegetables and fruit for our family and friends.