I had made it. The mission to procure some of the country’s finest ales- made in small batches, by hand, just for me (jealous yet?) by one of the most promising young brewers of this generation- had come to an end. On the top of a hill, on an August afternoon, I had found Hill Farmstead Brewery.

Four months ago, I was thrilled when my good friend, Shaun Hill told me his brewery should be up and running in time to make beer for our James Beard House dinner, this summer. I first met Shaun in 2002, when visiting our mutual friends at Jasper Hill Farm- on what at that time in my life, was a regular trip up to ‘Jasper’ to make cheese, hang out and drink beer in the Green Mountains.

Fast forward to today and Shaun’s beer- as well as the exploits of Jasper Hill Farm-have all gone through a metamorphosis, their finest achievements reflected in some of the best hand-crafted, highly sought after, artisan products in the country. This open, rolling, green shoulder of northern Vermont obviously carries wise ideas, a sense of Yankee ingenuity and passions that run as deep as Lake Caspian.

To know Shaun well, is to take a lesson in Vermont history. His family- The Hills- are one of Vermont’s oldest founding families, and for over 9 generations, Shaun’s ancestors have been turning the soil on this northern stretch of the state. However, once his grandfather’s barn burned down in 1978- a year before Shaun was born, the family no longer had the ability to operate their beloved dairy farm, and the Hill Farmstead turned to a swath of unused (although pristine & beautiful) land.

Now, thirty some odd years later, The Hill Farmstead is alive again. The small but comfortable farmhouse where Shaun and his colleagues live, has gotten somewhat of a makeover, complete with a built in (and tightly secured) cellar level room for Shaun’s barrels of beer. But just next to the house is where the magic happens. In a 1,200 square foot structure, resembling a garage on a slab foundation, is where Shaun pours his soul and energy into his craft. Just next to the new structure, lies the remnants of his grandfather’s burned out barn- a site he hopes to turn into a larger scale brewery someday.

Although Shaun got his start at Vermont breweries like The Shed in Stowe and Trout River in Lyndonville, he is recently back from a wild European adventure for the past two years, where he worked at award winning breweries and honed his craft. Shaun spent time at Nørrebro Bryghus in Denmark from March 2008 until November 2009. It was here in Denmark where he brewed three beers that would earn top honors at the World Beer Cup this year, two golds (in the American Style Imperial Stout and American Style Barleywine categories) and a silver (in the American Sour Ale category).This, as it turns out, was a very big deal- despite his modesty, as expressed when he told me recently:  “I just do what I do, man”.

Now that Shaun is back on his native soil, he is taking the time to get his beers just right. “I’m kind of a beer fascist” he told me. “I freak out if my beers aren’t poured just right, with the perfect amount of head”. As it should be, as all of Hill’s beers are named after past members of his family. If you are going to put the names of your relatives on the label, you better be damn sure it will live up to family expectations. His hopped up version of an IPA, called ‘Edward’ is his staple beer, and the only one he will brew year round. Other than that, he will be experimenting and finding new ways to reinvent traditional technique and beer style.

“I’m hoping to restore this farmstead to greatness once again”, Shaun told me. “Beers with tradition, yet innovation. Passion, elegance”. I quaffed a short pour of his Golden Saison, which is brewed with wheat from nearby Butterworks Farm, as we sidestepped sanitation equipment and barrel racks and the Wilco thumped through the speakers of his laptop computer. “Here, come taste this”….

Shaun brought me to the back of the brewery, with two new tasting glasses in hand and asked if I wanted to taste some barrel projects. Uhh, of course. First up was an Oatmeal Coffee Stout, aged in Sam Adams Utopias barrels. It was rich, malty, heady, balanced, perfect. Then there was a Brandy Porter- yet unnamed. It too, was luscious and velvety, with hints of brandy at the finish. “Yum” was all I could say. “Yum, Shaun”. Lastly, Shaun busted out the big gun. His Smoked Baltic Porter was a mind-blower. Think deep, brown elixir with a milky, full head and reeking of campfire. His eyes lit up and a smile broke out across his boyish face. “Yeah, that’s good” he said. And damn. It was. Real good. Like “I want more of that” good.

The beer I had come for though, was waiting in two cases of neatly stacked boxes by the front door of his retail shop. “This is for the Beard dinner” Shaun said. A special Saison style, Shaun had created it just for us and our upcoming dinner this coming Monday, August 16th at the James Beard House in Manhattan. We popped one to make sure it was up to snuff. “You can choose if you want to serve it cloudy or not” he said. The pale golden ale streamed from the bottle, into my glass, leaving behind the lees upon which it sat. “If you want to arouse the beer, you can”. Arouse. I love it. As if Hill’s beer needs to be any more arousing than it already is. After tasting the beer both ways- slightly aroused (swirling the lees into the beer before pouring), and non-aroused, we both decided it would be best to leave some of the yeast in the bottom of the bottle, as to not complicate the clean flavors of honey, hay, toast and almond.

Suddenly, Shaun’s ‘lady friend’, Zoe, from Jasper Hill Farm, arrived with a small brown paper package. “Today we’re running a special- buy some beer and get a free cheese”. She handed me a piece of “Eligo”, a mold ripened goat’s milk cheese from Ploughgate Creamery- still in the works and not officially on the market. “We are still figuring out the aging” Zoe said, speaking of the craft of affinage that goes on at Jasper Hill, down the road. I told her I couldn’t promise that the cheese would make it back to Providence. She said “That’s fine- just don’t get into the beer on the road!”

From here, I thanked Shaun and Zoe, packed up the VW with our special honey saison and got ready to ramble back down route 16 to head back to Providence. The August light was fading. We swatted at insects in the Northeast Kingdom air and said goodbye. On my way home I thought about how a new food revolution is taking place in this corner of Vermont. It is funny how sometimes those products that are so revered and special, come from such a simple source- passion. Love. When you give yourself to your product, manipulating it just enough to fit within the parameters of your desires, but allow that product to also take on a life of its own, and to develop naturally and become its own entity, the results can be astonishing.

We strive to work in a similar way at Farmstead & La Laiterie. Start with great ingredients, do relatively little to them, and let the food speak for itself. We bring this ethos and hopefully similar passions to our evening at the James Beard House this coming Monday night. Don’t have tickets? Don’t worry. We’ll make sure we drink enough of Shaun’s beer for you.

Right now, Shaun has no distribution outside of Vermont, with exception to some in New York City. But you never know when his beer will flow from our taps. Stay tuned.

Farmstead & La Laiterie James Beard House Evening, Course Three: “Tasting Of Saunderstown Pork: Slow Roasted, Hay and Whey-Brined Belly, Porcini Sausage, Crispy Crackle, Cured Loin, Golden Plums & Brebis Blanche, paired with Hill Farmstead Honey Saison.”

Hill Farmstead Brewery

Farmstead & La Laiterie’s ‘American Artisan Evening’ At The James Beard House

From straight edge hipsters on single speed bikes, to affluent soccer moms in SUV’s (yes, they are still driving them), professors, lawyers, brick layers and retirees- everyone wants to ‘keep it local’. For the most part, this is great news. We all know by now that buying local supports small businesses and local economies, puts your dollars back to work in your area, makes you feel good and is an important part of creating community.

I have personally always been a proponent of purchasing foods for my restaurant and stores locally, not because it is hip and trendy, but because it makes sense. Why would you consider buying corn from Iowa, Illinois or Nebraska, when the best sweet corn you have ever tasted comes from just down the road at the peak of season? Why would you purchase pork from a giant factory hog farm like Smithfield, when the pork grown by the gray haired dude 20 minutes away, is more flavorful, tender and has better marbling?

Well the reason you might, is because of price. Local food is not cheap. Small production, local food relies on a less cost effective work force (it rarely employs underpaid migrant workers, like factory farming), utilizes land that is more expensive to purchase and maintain (trust me- there are no back room real estate deals for independent farmers who want to purchase or lease land), and for farmers raising animals, that breeding stock comes at a steep price if purchasing heritage breeds, not to mention the sky rocketing costs of taxes, equipment costs and supplies. Add to all this the fact that the contentment, feed and overall care of the animal is maintained and generally managed much more closely. This means the end product is going to be more expensive. A turn off for some, an understood and necessary evil for many others.

While it is my goal to produce menus that utilize as many local goods as possible, the above dilema is a reality to cooking ‘native’, that restaurant chefs have to endure every week when those invoices start rolling in. Believe it or not, I would much rather my menus be focused on seasonality rather than regionality, as attempting to purchase 100% of my ingredients from around the corner obviously isn’t possible for many reasons. Strictly speaking from a small business perspective: purchasing in that fashion would bankrupt my restaurant real quick, as I would have to charge exorbitant prices to compensate for the cost of goods. On a recent trip to California, I chatted up a local poultry farmer at a Farmer’s Market. At the end of our conversation he said “Alright, I’ll give you the chef’s discount for these dozen eggs…that’ll be seven dollars”. With my gaping mouth collecting flies, I paid the man, thanked him and walked away as white as his Langshan White Hens. Seven dollars for a dozen eggs! That’s the ‘chef’s discount’?!!!

 I believe that chefs need to view ‘buying local’ as ‘gravy’. In my view, if you can create a fully functional, well costed and high-selling menu or menu item that is seasonal and delicious, then you are off to a good start. If you can seal the deal by purchasing as many of those ingredients from local and sustainable sources, then you have really done it right. Conversely, if you are a chef or restuarant that purchases local produce, then congratulations- you are most likely already cooking seasonally.

Meats however, bring us chef-types more of a challenge. Locally raised and slaughtered livestock can easily be twice as expensive as commodity meat- or even meat that is responsibly sourced, but that comes from distributors. The most expensive relationship is that of the chef and the pig farmer. The reality of small production animal husbandry and rearing is that those animals come from expensive breeding stock (particularly heritage breeds), they typically require more expensive feed (not only is it not the cheap, highly processed corn byproduct that is soaked with additives, hormones and stimulants used in mid-western factory farms, but often we need to ship that feed in), these animals require more land and space to grow, and lastly are being slaughtered in independent facilities that charge more.

Additionally, issues like land taxes, USDA certification, and lower animal yields all play a huge part in why going local with your meat, can be spendy. Here in New England, the local infrastructure for farming has literally gone through atrophy. 100 years ago, Main St. was lined with feedstores, farming equipment wholesalers,  smokehouses and slaughter facilities. Today, our livestock farmers have to drive hours to get their animals slaughtered and packaged for market.  

These are all factors that need to be discussed and recognized. Another point which requires elaboration is that as chefs-while many of us have the goal of purchasing as local as possible- also have a business to run. We are forced to make judgement calls, tough decisions and to choose our battles on a weekly basis. The pressure to commit to sourcing everything locally is ever present. I have watched many chefs who might have interest in buying local, but who simultaneously have responsibility of towing a certain bottom line, feel outcast and shunned by consumers because they can’t make the numbers work. How do we stem these two realities, and find the sweet spot where locally supported agriculture and livestock is more accessible and less intimidating for those interested in participating in the movement?

As a small business owner, I get asked to participate in fundraisers, galas, tastings, festivals and off -premise events practically weekly. More often than not, the organizers want me to donate my time and the time of how ever many other cooks I will need to assist me, as well as the ingredients for hundreds of people! How does this compute? How can I afford to talk the talk, walk the walk, and do it all for free? I can’t. I am forced to try to manipulate the dish and the ingredients used in that dish to address all angles- to appease myself, my costs, my local farmers, the event supervisor and the public. I might be a hospitality veteran, but that’s a lot of pleasing to do.

I have seen and heard the reprimands by pundits and bloggers, upon their experiences with chefs. “He said he’s all local, but I heard he buys dairy from Hood”. Or, most recently: ” (I watched a demo by a chef) who is an advocate and crusader for the use of local, organic and natural ingredients. He prepared five different recipes, and most of the ingredients he used were local ones. But, while preparing one of the appetizer dishes, he used a meat, a pork product, from San Francisco!”

So what? Maybe that guy really liked that cured meat from California. Maybe it’s flavors complemented his dish better, maybe he got a really good deal on it, and since he was feeding 100 pudgy attendees out of his own pocket,  it made the most economical sense! Listen- I’m all about going local whenever possible- my business is built on that very credo. But there is a certain heavy bottomed naïveté that purchasing local is the onlyway. Ask 10 chefs if they could create a $2 taco (sale price) from local meats and produce, while maintaining a 30% food cost on that taco, and you would get a resounding and collective “No”.

So, herein lies the query. Is buying local worth it? For me, it is. As I mentioned earlier, the most expensive relationship is that of the chef and the pig farmer. Well, it is also the most rewarding. I love nothing more than working with my local farmers, getting excited with them about what they are growing, coming to them with new ideas of items to grow or animals to raise for the upcoming season. Without this collaboration, and these types of relationships, cooking for me would just be a futile attempt at going through the motions. The conviviality, passion and energy that oozes from the relationships we have as chefs to our producers, is everything. It is the lifeblood of our creativity, our vision and ultimately, our businesses.

I think the question is how can we all work together to realize the hidden costs associated with purchasing locally, talk about it openly and find solutions to these problems? These issues take a lot of consideration- there are literally layers and layers of issues to consider. For a chef, the hidden costs associated with buying local are cowering in the dark corner like a blood thirsty hyena, ready to pounce on the wounded. How do we get these issues out into the daylight, discuss them together and make changes so that we can alter the ecosystem of food in this country?

You know summer is going fast when August 1st looms on the horizon like a setting sun. Well, we’re here. I noticed today that it has been two months since we have emailed you last. Yikes! Obviously we’ve been a little busy around here.

Well lucky for us, August is no exception. We have plenty of upcoming events, exciting classes, and tantalizing products to whet your appetite. Read on, bon vivants…read on!

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‘Lil Rhody Local Food Fest, Tuesday, August 3rd!

Olivia Sticks Her Nose In My Business

Two days ago, I drove down with my friend Beau- Chef at New Rivers Restaurant, to see Krista van Dale- our new pig farmer, in Little Compton.

Krista and I have been talking about developing a relationship between her small farm and our restaurant for a while now, and it looks like things are coming to fruition. About three weeks ago, Krista picked up our first round of piglets. They are Tamworth & Berkshire crosses, originating from Western Massachusetts.

These little beauties were psyched. They wallowed. They oinked. They skirted between our feet and over the mud and fresh hay. They looked fabulous. This being Krista’s first foray into pig rearing, it is exciting for all involved. She has them on about a 1/4 acre right now, gently fenced in and sheltered by a homemade lean-to, which used to be a former chicken coop.

The best part? I was able to source some great grub for our little guys- fresh cheese and whey from Narragansett Creamery and left over beer mash from Newport Storm Brewery. These local, Rhode Island ingredients will ensure that our squealers develop the fat we want them to have come their slaughter- probably in October. Krista and I plan on finishing them on plenty of local corn, with the addition of Little Compton seaweed.

Two of them will be used for my annual trip to Nantucket Island, where I’ll be putting on another ‘Hogtoberfest’ this year, with Michael Lascolla of American Seasons. Hogtoberfest is a weekend long event- one day of a butchery workshop, another day of charcuterie and beer pairings at Cisco Brewery and we end with a multiple course prix fixe dinner at ‘Seasons. It’s always a lot of fun for Michael and I to put together, and this year will be no exception. Stay tuned for details, but plan on making it out to the island, October 16th and 17th.

Here are some photos from our recent visit to Krista’s farm. Sure. They might be cute now, but they are going to be delicious in October. See you then, piggies!

Narragansett Creamery cheese, Newport Storm beer mash, and lots of whey

Krista pets the piglets while they eat, to get them used to human interaction

Olivia and Iris pig out, Wilbur tries to work his way into the trough, out of picture

Whitecoats storm the Whitehouse

Today was a special day. There are, without question, those moments in the life of a chef, when you feel like you are doing more than making people happy with food, but that you are making some kind of tangible difference.

Connecting with Rhode Island farms to create a multi-course meal in the middle of a field last August was one for me. Bringing other chefs to farms to introduce them to cheesemakers, through our ‘Pasture To Plate’ trips has been another. Today was yet one more of those moments, in Washington, D.C.

One week ago, I was asked by my favorite organization, Chef’s Collaborative, to join a troupe of passionate and dedicated chefs, to help launch Michelle Obama’s new program “Chefs Move To Schools“, via the administrations new initiatives at let’s move.gov. The goal of the program is to utilize chefs as ambassadors to healthy, delicious food and to place them with ‘adopted’ schools within their community. Through this partnership, the chefs are to help the schools start to find ways to bring healthy, local and sustainable foods to schools throughout the nation.

Does it sound far fetched? Grandiose? An unattainable goal? Perhaps, as we all know the myriad of problems and issues facing school administrators, teachers, faculty and staff in every aspect of the education system- let alone the food that is served in schools. The dismal state of the food programs in American schools—especially public schools—is almost universally acknowledged. But we have to start somewhere. Small, incremental change is necessary on a local level, all over the country, in order to begin the process of making change.

The Whitehouse Beehive

Today’s events at the Whitehouse were the first steps in ensuring a healthy future for our kids, with close to as many as 500 of passionate, skilled, eager, exited, and sweaty (yes it was over 90 degrees on the South Lawn) chefs, literally storming the grounds of the First Family. I was there and I am proud to say it really was nothing short of an amazing morning and afternoon of embracing the ideals of healthy cooking, local and sustainable purchasing and deep seeded passion for changing the way America looks at food.

On The South Lawn

We began our morning with a symposium at the JW Marriot with Billy Shore, founder of Share Our Strength, a non-profit with a nationwide reach, dedicated to ending childhood hunger in America by 2015. Speakers covered a lot of ground, as we all rubbed the morning from our eyes (8am is early for a chef), and guzzled coffee. U.S. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan, White House Assistant Chef Sam Kass, local school Principles and their Chef Liasons were all on the panel, offering insight, instruction and inspiration on how to get involved on a local level.

Then, in a parade of white coats and shiny black shoes, we walked two blocks to the Whitehouse, to peruse the Presidential vegetable garden, share our ideas and energy and to hear The First Lady tell us about her plans for the ‘Chef’s Move’ program. The sea of Egyptian cotton and neatly pressed black and gray pants washed down Pennsylvania Avenue, and we all assembled at the front gate. I’d turn to my left and see Michel Nischan and Marc Murphy, to my right- Anne Burrell, Carla Hall, Anne Cooper, Bill Telepan and Tom Colicchio.

Chef Jose Andres and meNot such bad company.

For possibly the first time ever in history, all of the chefs in attendance put away their egos and pride and we all talked about what it meant to be involved in such a project. How each one of us was going to work in ways to do our part. Jose Andres and Daniel Boulud joked and teased each other like high school boys and Telepan poked Marcus Samuelson with his walking cane. It was a jovial gathering of chefs, all galvanized in a movement, in a moment of time.

Tours of the Whitehouse garden followed, a visit to the apiary, the compost bin (now that’s some Presidential shit!), and the day finally came to a cascading finish in the searing heat, while we all mopped our brow, and listened intently as Michelle Obama spoke of changing the way American kids eat in this generation.

The Whitehouse Vegetable Gardens

“You are all at the heart of this initiative because if anyone understands nutrition and food, it’s the folks sitting here in their whites today,” Obama said, referring to the traditional chef uniform. “You know more about food than almost anyone – other than the grandmas – and you’ve got the visibility and the enthusiasm to match that knowledge” she said. The First Lady added “These schools are going to need your support. But it’s got to be a collaboration.”

With that, our historic day had come to an end. We’d heard from the ‘Command-ress In Chief’. The vision was clear. The goals had been set. Now we have to get our hands dirty and get started. As Bill Telepan, who has been working closely with his daughter’s school through Share Our Strength’s program, ‘Operation Frontline’,  said in our opening symposium at the Marriot “Don’t get discouraged. Take small, incremental steps to achieve change. Have patience. Have fun”.

Chef Daniel Boulud and me

The Whitehouse Garden Walkway

My discussions with Chefs Tom Colicchio, Jose Andres and Daniel Boulud were varied and we covered everything from Tom’s construction disasters with his new home, Chef Boulud’s precocious and adorable daughter, chiding him the whole time as he videotaped the crowd of chefs, and Chef Andres’ Blackberry woes “This thing- it drive me crazy”, but one thing is for certain- the energy is there. The enthusiasm is un-contained. These chefs are ready to be instrumental in not just changing food in schools, but food policy, here at home and across the globe. This was a welcome realization. It’s always kind of nice when you discover your professional heroes share some of your personal values.

Chef Tom Colicchio & Me

After a couple of weeks of being able to digest what I learned today as well as the processes by which the collaborations between chef and school will work, I look forward to ‘adopting’ a local, Rhode Island school, and doing what I can to channel the obvious enthusiasm for quality,  healthy foods into an environment where I can be most useful. Stay tuned and stay hungry.

Grapes- Verjus' humble beginning

I was reminded this past weekend how much I love vegetables.

The thought is always there- I will pass a beautiful, plump bag of pea greens in the restaurant and smile. Or I may remark at the color of the season’s first rhubarb, laying on the counter. However, sometimes it takes a more intimate moment (if you will) with your vegetables of choice to really realize how much you appreciate them.  I had that moment yesterday.

Unlike any other ingredient, vegetables provide a very special and essential place in the ecosystem of great food. A cook’s garden offers unlimited ranges of flavors, tastes, textures, aromatics and applications. Thrilling discoveries can be found when we realize as cooks that we need to embrace the garden as a pallet- feeling free to use fruits in savory applications, vegetables in sweet applications, and herbs in everything!

Fresh vegetables can be utilized in a multi-disciplinary manner. They are, without question, a building block of fine cuisine- perhaps the building block- providing opportunities to add depth of flavor, earthy nuances and a type of essential backbone to the food you create. There is quite honestly (and this comes from two very proud carnivores) absolutely nothing better than exquisitely cared for and prepared vegetables. Kate and I will very frequently find ourselves eating vegetables as a ‘main dish’ or centerpiece of our meat-less meals, and yet we will almost never have any type of meat dish without some sort of vegetable, so it is impossible to suggest that vegetables are somehow less important in the world of cuisine than meat. This concept should please our vegetarian friends, of whom we often antagonize in our restaurant!

What re-awakened me this past weekend was a plate of warm, simply grilled vegetables, sprinkled with verjus. Verjus, which literally translates to “green juice”, is a slightly acidic liquid made from the juice of green grapes (although it can be made from other unripe fruits like apples or even tomatoes).  Before its re-introduction to 21st century cuisine, verjus was commonly used in medieval European cooking and remained popular throughout the 19th century. However, in what we know as the ‘Western World’, the common use of lemon juice to add acidity to foods, usurped the use for this delicate and floral culinary elixir.

The production of verjus was a natural byproduct of the wine growing regions of the world. The use of verjus has been documented by use in kitchens as far ago as the early Roman empire. Now, in modern times, as the U.S. has developed into a major wine making region within the world, there is an increasing interest in, and use of, verjus. Even that which is crafted here in the US, as opposed to the typical imported variety.

Verjus, used sparingly, can add a much welcomed tart and acidic splash to a vinaigrette, a pleasant sour grape quality to a fresh chilled soup in summer, that additional tang to a chicken salad, or in my case this past weekend- the perfectly balanced pucker to a plate of lightly charred vegetables.

Now that vegetable season is here, break out that verjus. A sprinkle here, a trickle there; acid helps make your flavors pop, and verjus is a great way to achieve this. Combine verjus with fresh herbs, a great olive oil and a few chili flakes? The perfect marinade for that fish that’s headed to the grill. Soak some fresh, ripe melon in a combination of verjus, vodka and honey, and top with a heaping spoonful of whipped cream- the ideal adult fruit salad. The possibilities are endless. A summer staple and victual- here’s to verjus!

Vermont Goats

It’s kidding season. No, I don’t mean time for joking, high jinks, rabble rousing, bantering or fooling around. Especially not fooling around. It’s the time of year that kidding is taking place on goat farms all over the country, and that is serious business- in more ways than one.

The term ‘kidding’ refers to the particular time of year, when goats are bred and babies weaned on their mother’s colostrum. The preparations that go into the process of kidding on a farm are tremendous, and farmers know that the future livelihood of their herd is determined in part, by how kidding season plays out.

I spoke today with Laini Fondiller, owner, cheesemaker and chief bucket washer at Lazy Lady Farm, off the grid near Westfield, Vermont. I asked her what the greatest challenges are with this time of season- what does the cheesemaker dread with regards to kidding season? What are the joys? What don’t people know about raising infant goats that they should. Her laugh on the other end of the line made it quite apparent that while she might be 3/4 of the way through actual kidding season, her stresses and challenges are far from over.

“You have to keep them comfortable” she said. “It’s all about keeping their stress loads down. The amount of colostrum you are able to provide them, is directly related to how productive they will become. People don’t really know this stuff, but little kids don’t really suckle all that much- so it’s about how fast and furious I am able to provide those essential first nutrients, that makes it or breaks it”.

Laini went on to tell me that the young goats require the cheesemaker to feed them 20 ounces of colostrum, three times a day. Are you doing the math, folks? That’s 60 ounces (almost half a gallon) of their mother’s milk in a 24 hour period. This of course would be less of an issue, if they were drinking it directly from their mother. But because they are so young, many don’t know how to suckle correctly yet. That’s where Laini comes in.

“I stick a long tube down their throat. Like a long syringe” Laini tells me. “The more I can feed them, the less their stress will be. They can’t be frantic. You can’t let them get frantic.” Obviously then, Laini is the one who becomes frantic, literally running from baby goat to baby goat, ensuring each is full and happy.

“This year was nutty. I had thirty three goats that kidded between March 3rd and March 8th. One day I worked from 6am to 2am the next morning. And coffee didn’t help. It hurt! Then I got up at 6am the next day and did it all over again- another 18 or 20 hour day.”

“You have to remember als0..” she mentioned, “That milk I’m giving those kids, I could be turning into cheese! This is an investment- that’s what kidding season is all about- investing in your herd”. Each one of those mama goats (does), will have two babies. That’s over sixty baby goats to tend after. Out of those babies, Laini will keep only 6-10 for her own herd. The rest she will sell.

“I’d rather the breeding and the kidding come like a tsunami. Hard and fast. It’s better that way. It should come quick, furious and then I’m done. It can be a killer if it drags on and on and on”. Odd that this yearly cataclysm on goat farms across the country takes place quietly, on back roads and open pasture far removed from the bustling cities where the very cheese made from the milk of these gorgeous animals gets sold for $20 or $30 a pound. Talk about a labor of love, with a justified market price.

“What’s the best part of kidding?” I ask. “These amazing animals”, she replies. “They’re snappers! The pure joy that comes from watching them live- thrive. That’s the best part”. In a few weeks, kidding season will be over- at least for this year, and then next spring, Laini gets to do it all over again. All for the love of the kids.

Now, when envisioning American cheese, many of us think of cheese that is skillfully and tirelessly crafted by human hands- an object of art and a product of terroir, not some factory plant. How is it that we have begun to think differently about defining what “American cheese” is? How has this shift taken place, and what is the impetus behind the revolution of artisanal, American cheese production? How has the infectious and contagious desire to procure locally made, wholesome goods and foodstuffs, spread to unexpected segments of the population?

The ‘buy local’ wave that is sweeping the country- with it’s bold new efficacy- has lit the wick of the Farmer’s Market cannon, spreading ‘know your farmer’ shrapnel across the country. We now witness the surge in organic goods in the marketplace, the expansion of green grocers and more. How has this happened? Why are we vested in our own food and its source once again? What are the intriguing factors associated with procuring all natural, local foods that are so intrinsic in human nature, that we are re-establishing an artisan foods revolution in America?

While I think we can point at more than one example and reason, I’m going to thank Vermont. For me, Vermont will always be the home of the artisan foods movement. This little rugged swath of 10,000 square miles is responsible for introducing the world to a handful of not only the most delicious and well made artisan foods, but more arguably, those foods with the most cultural significance, history, heritage and sense of place. Nowhere else in the United Sates, does the aspect of food with terroir seem more appropriate or applicable.

The most obvious example of Vermont’s contributions can be seen in the world of artisan cheese. In Vermont alone, the number of artisan cheese makers has tripled in the last 10 years. Purely responding to the consumer’s desire for unique, hand-crafted, small-batch production cheeses, Vermont has seen impressive industry growth, and where the average farm size is 174 acres and the population only 621,000, Vermonters have even more room to grow. Currently, there are over 40 artisan cheesemakers in Vermont, hand-crafting everything from fresh chevre to well-aged, alpine beauties.

There is also reason to learn how to make cheese in Vermont- the Vermont Institute For Artisan Cheese. Housed at The University Of Vermont,  VIAC provides education, research, technical services, and public service to increase knowledge, appreciation, and expansion of artisan cheese. Through the courses available at VIAC, the Institute “supports artisan cheese producers in Vermont and throughout the United States, contributes to the latest scientific research and expertise related to dairy and cheese products, and encourages the sustainability of the small-farm culture in Vermont and other rural landscapes”.

For these reasons and more, to me, Vermont embodies small scale agriculture. It is a state that should be honored and revered as the groundbreaking northern territory that sparked an artisan foods revolution on the East Coast. The ‘back to the land’ ethos of many Vermonters at one time may have seemed quirky to some. Those ’silly hippies’ up in the hills, homesteading and escaping society’s molestation.

Kate in the cellars at Jasper Hill

Well, today some of those ’silly hippies’ have banded to form a small group of Vermont artisans that are genuinely interested in preserving not just Vermont’s dairy industry, but preserving small farm ingenuity- showing others through their actions that 21st century farms can survive, and can create value added products for the marketplace. Together, these farms and organizations like NOFA (Northeast Organic Farming Association) and The Vermont Land Trust, help foster the next generation of farmer- cheesemaker and dairy farmer included. It’s a healthy combination of artistry, conservation, and a lot of hard work that make the Vermont style of cheesemaking and farming, unique to New England.

For me, Vermont represents the best of micro cheese artistry. From the styles represented- soft, fresh, un-aged, bloomy, hard, washed, blue, to the types of milk used- cow, sheep, goat, water buffalo, or the ingenuity, vision and camaraderie shared amongst cheesemakers and the willingness to work together to promote legislative change and financial success stories (one need only look to Jasper Hill Farm, with brothers Andy & Mateo Kehler as poster-boys for the new generation of cheesemaker), Vermont is doing many things right.  After all, having cheesemaking be cool again, sure ain’t a bad thing for a debilitated yet re-bounding state industry.

With the arrival of more and more artisan inspired foods, comes “Locavorism”, the latest fashion of yuppie food politics. By promoting and purchasing artisan cheeses and other local, artisan foods, we are supporting small farms, cutting down on the emissions of transported foods, significantly reducing our chemicals in the soil, as many local farms tend to work organically, and a significant consideration: this type of support tastes good! Most importantly, being a ‘Locavore’  is about more than freaking out about the  spring garlic, fiddle heads and ramps you just picked up, moreover, it might be the key to a new type of food security and finally, a better nutrition for all.

I would hope that farming communities hit hard by the downturn in the economy such as those in rural Michigan, Illinois, Arizona and others would look towards Vermont as an example of one of many ways to re-invest in local agriculture. In doing so, we not only promote our local artisans and stimulate local economies, but we realize the significance in maintaining local food production and it’s link to our safety, security, well being and health. Vermont is working to prove that sustainable farming can also provide a sustainable living. I’ll gladly raise a hefty pint and nibble some Cabot Clothbound to that.

So where does this sweet tooth take its root?  I can only blame one thing, (and one thing that I do have to be a bit particular about)…maple syrup.  My household will never have Aunt Jemima, Mrs. Butterworth’s or some sort of plastic-tasting-off color-having-syrup-substitute. I suppose I buy cheap candy so I can save my pennies for the  “real stuff” when it comes to maple syrup.  Sorry folks if the cheap syrup does it for you, I won’t be joining you for pancakes or French toast any time soon.

Born in Vermont, it only makes sense that I should have a special liking for the glory of amber gold.  One of my few memories of my father before he passed away, were his breakfast feasts in Vermont.  My dad was the king of pancakes.  He would make such big pancakes that they draped over our plates- floppy, warm and slightly crispy. He then would roll them up like Taquitos and smother them in butter and local maple syrup before cutting them into pieces to fit into our still very small mouths.  It was a Sunday tradition and the best morning of the week by far.

But what really made me love the stuff was hot shot glasses of maple syrup freshly made.  My father would take me and my sister down the dirt road we lived on, and hoist us up on his knee so we could stick our pudgy fingers into the aluminum buckets nailed onto the maple trees.  We’d dip our fingers in and taste the sweet sap from the trees-sugar water at its finest. The sap house was right down the road. It was nothing much-practically a shed-but what a memory.  Walking into the small, cramped and aging sugarhouse, I was taken by the heat- practically suffocating, as if walking into a sauna. Then, once our lungs adjusted to the steamy air, we were served a ladle full of piping maple syrup into little shot glasses-bottoms up!  That pure taste of fresh, warm maple sugar- now that was something Aunt Jemima or Mrs. Butterworth’s couldn’t hold a candle to.

100% Hereford, 40 Day Dry Aged, California Raised, Bone-In Rib Steak

It also can’t be hard to believe when you know that family farm likes to have complete control of the beef rearing process-from ensuring the cattle are raised by way of their own breeding techniques and structures, as well as growing their own feed- grains, soy sprouts, wheat and alfalfa, grown just for those very happy, very special cows.

It sounds impossible, right? How could two ranching brothers possibly care so much for their cattle and their craft, that their skill and attention to detail can literally be tasted in the steaks that get cut from their cows? Trust us, it is possible. Entirely possible.

It is only appropriate on this Valentine’s Day, that we serve our loving customers, prodigious, succulent dry aged steaks from a family that loves what they do- raise cattle.

It would be important too, to realize this truly inspiring meat became available by way of a second generation butcher and meat maverick from San Francisco. Sourced with help from Bryan Flannery Jr., the passionate butcher and Bay Area meat man, we just might have discovered our favorite dry aged steaks….ever. Immersed in the family butcher business and exposed to meat purchasing since he could sweep the sawdust off the floors of his father’s shop, Bryan’s passion & love for what he does is evident in every phone call we’ve had with him, through our email communications and beyond. This guy doesn’t want to stop talking about his specialty meats. And we love that.

These 100% Hereford steaks that Brian has selected for us are cut from cows who spend 8 months on pasture and are then finished on all natural feed -including flaked corn- to ease their digestion and ensure they remain healthy and happy. In most normal conditions, only two or three out of 100 head of cattle could be considered ‘Prime’ by USDA grading. The beef that Bryan selects for his shop and wholesale customers derives from a herd where as many as 30 animals out of 100 will make the ‘Prime’ certification- simply due to how they are bred, raised and treated. The final result in the quality of the meat? Fat marbling like the milky way. Seriously. These cuts of meat benefit from what Bryan calls “diffuse” marbling. Your typical Kobe or Wagyu beef may have lots of marbling, but he says, “If you look closely, there very well might just be clumps of that delicious fat- but they will be clumps”.  The marbling in Bryan’s steaks is diffuse, or spread out, making each bite a buttery, luscious sensation.  Now that, is love

The only practical step remaining in the process of this steak procurement, would be to treat it with loving care in a confident and capable kitchen. That’s where we come in. With the desire to do justice to the product, and a devotion and passion all our own, we bring you our very special, Valentine’s Day Entrée designed for two, at La Laiterie this Sunday.

Pan-Roasted, 40 Day Dry Aged, Prime California Ribeye For Two

Confit Potatoes, Roasted Brussels Sprouts, Bacon & Thyme Butter

Want to really make this evening special? Add a glass of our suggested pairing: Loaker Estate’s ‘Kastlet’. This amazing Cabernet and Lagrein blend from Alto Adige, Italy, will be sure to showcase the meat’s best qualities- and add enough tannin and acid to marry all the flavors of the plate, beautifully.

This 2003 vintage is bold and shows ripe fruit on the nose and front palette. Additionally, there is a lively, yet earthy and mineral quality to the backbone of this wine that will bring out the ‘beefiness’ of our amazing, 40 day, dry aged steak.

Let the steak be your suitor. Embrace the beef and be loved.

California Ribeye For Two With Wine Pairings: $120

Without Pairings: $100

We will also be serving a limited dinner menu, complete with dessert specials. Lovingly accepting reservations for parties of six or more.

401-274-7177