Archive for January, 2010
Pasture to Plate Revisited
I have one piece of advice following my dinner at the Glasbern last week.
Try the gumbo.
Of course you won’t go wrong with the house-cured meats, the Glasbern-raised greens or any of the other homegrown goodies chef Stephen Browning transforms into pure delectability. Or should I credit the sun?
House-cured Meats
From the brandy-glazed chicken liver pate to the garden greens to the crème brulee, the meal was photosynthetically driven. Cattle, hogs, and chickens thrive on the grasses and weeds that contain that remarkable pigment, chlorophyll, which (to make a long story short) absorbs solar energy so that plants can make their own food. Whether we pick and eat that food directly, or consume it secondhand through meat, milk, or eggs, we are taking advantage of the largesse of the sun—which, thankfully, has energy to spare.
You may recall that I’ve admired the shaggy tresses of the Highland cattle and the cute curly tails of the Berkshire pigs. Despite Sadie’s stern warnings I’ve stood entertained by the chickens as they forage for insects (that feed on bits of detritus once powered by the sun). But the fact that all of these animals contributed to my dining experience was not upsetting. On the contrary. It was humbling.
When I asked Browning about that—whether using familiar beings in his craft caused him to think twice—he reacted as a chef should, that is, with matter-of-fact realism. “I appreciate the quality of the ingredients,” he replied staidly. But then he told me about the time when, walking from his apartment to the inn, he noticed a young bull with a (and I quote) “green crown of grass” on his head and a mean sparkle in his eye. When the bull began stomping the ground Stephen knew he was in trouble, so he did the sensible thing. Ran like hell! The next day, he related, the young bull was a young steer. Does he think about this as he braises the brisket? He wouldn’t say.
But, back to the meal … Browning credits his amazing gumbo to his former mentor, New York chef Eric Lind, who came by the recipe honestly when he lived for a time in Louisiana. But Browning has made it his own by adding smoked poultry in addition to the traditional ingredients. The spicy Andouille sausage is made, naturally, on site. Gumbo starts with a roux, he says, and is cooked down until the color and texture are like “Mississippi mud.” He adds okra, of course, and certified organic heirloom Carolina gold rice from Anson mills, then lets the Creole stew age and … ok, I’ll stop.
The Amish-style ham loaf recipe I tried as my main course was passed down from his mother, who got it from an Amish friend. Served with a delicate mix of just-harvested baby fennel and braised red cabbage, and swimming in a tangy “gastrique,” it was a revelation. This was ham? Smoking and curing meats is Browning’s current obsession, and the menu reflects this. Andouille sausage, smoked salmon, pork terrine, prosciutto … and did I mention the gumbo with smoked chicken and turkey? Speaking of the chicken, you may or may not know this but it is a fact: there is grocery store chicken and there is free-roaming, seed-scavenging, insect-foraging chicken. And there is a world of difference between the two. Full of rich taste, with just a trace of the gaminess of the modern chicken’s ancestor, Glasbern chicken does not “taste like chicken.” Next time Sadie barks at me I will thank her for protecting these wonderful broilers from high-flying hawks and roving foxes.
Being an omnivore had never quite felt so good. It was partly because of Browning’s talent, but also because knowing that the meats and vegetables were thoughtfully raised and respectfully prepared saturated the experience, just as the sun saturates the grasses that miraculously convert its energy in order to feed the cattle and the pigs.
Oh, just try the gumbo.
So What’s With the Blue Tree?
So What’s With the Blue Tree?
Well, now that you’ve asked, I’ll admit it. It’s my fault.
The ‘Forest Pansy’ redbud tree leafed out last spring and then dropped every single leaf a few weeks later. A dreaded virus? A bump from a produce truck? A roaming goat? Anything is possible at the Glasbern, and we will never know what caused the sudden leaf drop. The tree remained naked for weeks, saddening the landscape around it. And for weeks I suggested to the property manager that it was only getting deader, and the only solution I could think of involved a chainsaw. But still the dead tree greeted me every week when I came to the garden. One late July day as I weeded and pruned it occurred to me how lively the branches would look—if only they were not gray. I was midway into that thought when owner Al Granger raced up on his 4-wheeler (like magic) and asked, “Need anything?”
“As a matter of fact …,” I replied, “I was just thinking about a project.” Now what you need to understand is that Al loves projects. He lives for projects. You will quickly realize this if you just look around at the grounds and barns and lodges. “What project?” he asked. (aha, I thought with a glimmer of hope)
“I would like that dead tree down there to be blue,” I responded, pointing. The typical farm owner would let out a guffaw and wheel away. After all there were cattle to feed, fences to mend, fields to mow, events to plan. But nothing about the Glasbern is typical. “What color blue?” he asked.
Between that Friday and the next Al picked a chicory flower, took it to the paint store, and brought back a couple of gallons of chicory-colored paint. When I came back a week later the tree was the exact blue of chicory, which is also the color of the sky on a brilliant summer day (but try taking that to the paint store). It was elegant and majestic. It was a sensation!
But this is not the end of the story.
Guests marveled at the blue tree over the next few weeks. They photographed it and touched it. They posed with it. And after a period of being noticed and admired, the tree, which had been bare for well over a month, began to grow leaves! I kid you not. It was almost as if its little taste of fame gave it a reason to live.
Last summer, the blue tree was a lively note of surprise in the choreography of the garden. Now that winter is here it stands cool and regal in the snow-covered landscape. In a couple of months it may magically spring back to life. But, more likely, the color will fade and with it the dying spirit of the tree.
A consulting company visited the Glasbern the other week and suggested that the blue tree was somewhat out of place. You may agree, or you may not. Either way, I believe there is a lesson to be learned.
Life is fleeting.
Live it colorfully.
Heritage Hogs
The Glasbern farm is now home to a new family. The intention, said owner Al Granger, was to bring in a couple of sows and begin the process of breeding “Large Blacks” as the heritage breed of pigs is aptly called. But, it turns out, there was more to their considerable girth than the tender fat that these pigs are known for. Just days before the date they were due at the Glasbern, another due date occurred, and numerous little Large Black piglets arrived into the world. And so Al found himself transporting a large family of Large Blacks. If you wonder how it might feel to be bumped by hundreds of pounds of pig flesh, just ask Al. “One of the mothers bumped me off my feet!” he grumbled. A word to the wise: Be very sweet to new mothers, and I don’t mean just mother pigs.
Large Blacks were on the way to extinction fifty years ago. Why? Because their outdoor foraging habits were not a good fit with the new-fashioned ways of raising pork, intensively and indoors. The breed is entirely dependent on dedicated farmers who have an interest in tending and preserving hogs that can live off the land, such as the Berkshires and the Large Blacks that graze at the Glasbern. The massive animals are known for their exceptionally docile and friendly dispositions—as long as you don’t threaten their young ’uns that is—and are natural grazers. Lop ears hang over their eyes, which would seem to be a sight handicap, except that they are always looking down. Simply put, Large Blacks live to eat, and those ears actually shield their eyes as they graze their way around a field. And, unlike many hog breeds, the Large Blacks are protected from sunburn by their black coats, which allows them to live comfortably outdoors.
Another thing the breed is known for is exceptionally tender meat–it is considered a “bacon” type, rather than the more common corn-fed “lard” type. Chef Browning’s interest and skill in curing and smoking bacon will ensure that the Large Blacks have an extended and tasty afterlife. Sustaining valuable heritage hogs by breeding, delving into traditional methods of curing and charcuterie, and preserving the meats themselves without commercial nitrites by skillfully combining natural flavorings … all this comes together at the Glasbern farm.
So if you happen to catch a fleeting glimpse of Al as he herds livestock, inspects grasses, or does another of the hundreds of tasks that keep the farm running, you might thank him for taking that bump on the rump. The commitment of farmers to heritage breeds and good land stewardship benefits every one of us.