Archive for the ‘Farm’ Category
You can now buy Raw Milk at the Glasbern
Raw milk, that is, unpasteurized milk, has many fervent aficionados—and just as many foes. Consumers of the straight-from-the-cow (and then directly to the cooling tank) nutritious food claim that the enzymes and beneficial bacteria in the milk help prevent disease. Opponents worry that it may be unsafe. The state of Pennsylvania issues “raw milk permits” to farmers after they have followed a set of rigorous procedures.
The Glasbern Farm, no surprise, passed every test with flying colors! Annie, Marion, Nellie, Fancy, and the rest of the lactating bovines were declared healthy; the water on the farm was tested and found to be free of harmful bacteria. The refrigeration equipment is capable of cooling the milk to less than 40° within two hours. Three successive milk samples came back clean, and ongoing regular testing will ensure that only safe and healthful milk is sold at the farm.
So why do people feel so strongly that raw milk should, or shouldn’t, be sold? After all, for the thousands of years before Louie Pasteur’s method of heating milk to kill bacteria came into commercial use, there was no other kind of milk available. History provides a clue: In Pasteur’s time, bovine tuberculosis was a serious concern, and pasteurization put an end to the threat of contracting that disease, as well as typhoid and other diseases. And once a decision is made in the name of Public Safety, backtracking can be a tricky business, especially if you’re in the governing game. It’s ironic that in our modern times the farms that produce raw milk are often the ones that give their cows access to pasture land and fresh grass. These animals are far less likely to contract the illnesses that afflict grain-fed ruminants, and are also less likely to be have been treated with antibiotics.
Fortunately, Pennsylvania is one of the 28 states that allow the sale of raw milk to consumers. And even more fortunately for locals who like their milk unpasteurized, Annie and the rest of the Glasbern Devons are producing enough high-butterfat milk for the inn’s ice cream, coffee, and cereal … and then some.
To purchase raw milk, drive up to the main entrance of the inn. It is available for $2.50 a half-gallon in the refrigerated case just inside the door. It is not homogenized (so a layer of rich cream floats on top of the milk!) and may remind you—if you’re of a certain age—of the milk delivered to your door in a past era.
Katahdin Hair Sheep
Looking back, I see that I have been ignoring a valuable component of the Glasbern farm community: the sheep. If you have been lucky enough to get a close look at the flock that roves the rolling hills of the farm, you may have noticed that the sheep at the Glasbern differ from most. They are “hair sheep” (rather than wool sheep) known as Katahdins, bred near Mt. Katahdin in Maine specifically for grass-based meat production. The advantage of this breed: no shearing is necessary. They grow thick winter coats that are shed naturally as the weather warms in spring. They are also exceptionally fine mothers, having a protective nature and the ability to produce plenty of milk. It’s easy to see why this adaptable, low-maintenance breed is uniquely suited to the rotational grazing system that the farm is fostering. Although Teardrop, the Great Pyrenees pup assigned to guard the flock, keeps passersby from getting more than a momentary glance at her charges, she remains true to the fabled history of her breed by noisily defending the sheep from anything that might be construed as a threat. That includes you and me.
The primary difference between hair sheep and wooled sheep is the ratio of hair to wool fibers. All sheep have both hair and wool, but hair sheep have more hair fibers and wool sheep have more wool fibers. What’s the difference, you might ask? Wool has a waviness, or “crimp,” that allows the fibers to be spun easily into fine elastic yarns. It is also covered with thousands of overlapping microscopic scales, which makes the fibers cling together. Hair (called kemp in sheep) has few scales and no crimp and will not bind together like wool. In our modern times of cheap synthetics, the cost of shearing can be as much or more than the value of the wool.
Not only are hair sheep valued for their easygoing natures, but they are resistant to internal parasites. This natural resistance, plus the constant moving from pasture to pasture, keeps the Glasbern Katahdins naturally healthy.
And of course it goes without saying– grass-fed lamb has a smooth, mild, and honestly excellent taste.
Got Milk!
Annie and Marion are now serving up their milk and cream to the patrons of the Glasbern Inn.
The process leading up to this triumphant moment took time and lots of attention to detail. First there was a pre-inspection by an independent farm inspector, who checked out the animals and the facility for potential hitches. Then a very thorough Department of Agriculture inspector spent hours checking sanitation, pasteurization equipment, containers and labels, and storage spaces—whether the operation is a 1000-cow dairy or a 15 cow family farm, the process is the same. And then, of course there is the lab testing of the pasteurized and pre-pasteurized milk, which is ongoing. The good news: Everything is in order!
As you might expect, this is no run-of-the-mill dairy. The Devon milking cows were purchased from an elderly farmer in a small New Hampshire town, where the heritage breeding line has been maintained since 1632. The Devons were chosen for the quality of their milk, not the quantity. “Having this breed makes us pretty unique,” said Jason. “Devons produce a more healthful milk, with a good blend of omega-3 and omega-7 fatty acids. As the mega-dairies turned to cows that were bred to deliver greater volumes, the quality of the milk they produced went down.” They’re also known for being good grazers. Thomas Shaw, professor of Animal Husbandry at the University of Minnesota said more than 100 years ago, “They readily obtain good livelihood on lands where heavy bodied breeds would probably fail.” The breed, amazingly, has not changed at all since that time.
2-year old Annie, 7-year old Marion, and Marion’s best friend Nellie were the first to make use of the new milking stations. Nellie doesn’t actually have any milk yet, but Marion doesn’t leave the pasture without her, Jason explained. Besides, she’s ready to give birth so it won’t be long before she’s a contributor too. Each milking yields just 1½ gallons of the high-butterfat liquid, which is separated into milk and cream. And this is just the beginning. With Harry, a Devon bull brought up from historic Williamsburg to keep 15 to 20 cows productive, two milkings a day times 1½ gallons … you do the math. Fancy (that’s Fancy and her calf on the right) just gave birth so she’ll soon be joining the three girlfriends in the milking stalls.
It was a sweet moment when chef Stephen Browning created the first batch of brownie ice cream using eggs from the chickens that spend their days pecking the soil in search of bugs and eating leftover produce, and cream and milk from the grass-fed cows. It was a moment I’m sorry I missed!
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.
Whey-fed Pork: the whole story
Let’s start at the beginning.
Once upon a time a farm was a family pursuit. A cow or two provided milk, cream, and cheese. Chickens scuttled about, pecking larvae from cow patties and fertilizing the ground. Pigs snacked on grass, weeds, and nuts, but got fat on whey, the thin liquid that drains from curds when milk is separated to make cheese. This circular model of farming, where every living component has a natural function and life takes care of life, is what the Glasbern farm is all about. And chef Stephen Browning prizes the home-grown products, especially the beautifully marbled pork.
But this is not about the meat. You could say it’s about cow patties drawn into the soil by dung beetles, amazing insects that roll wads of dung into balls that they maneuver with their little legs to a safe spot to bury and eat and nest. Without dung beetles making the cow patties disappear Jason would be knee deep in doo-doo. Instead the pasture becomes ever more fertile, generating grasses for the dairy cows, which then provide for the chickens and the beetles and the soil and the pigs. For restaurant diners the benefit is milk and cream rich in omega-3s.
But this is not about the cream either, although it is certainly true that cream purchased in plastic-coated cartons will offer far fewer health benefits than that offered up by grass-fed cows. Richer even than the cream is the natural cycle of life and death and regeneration, the animals providing for each other, the insects caring for the soil, the power of photosynthesis. Curds and cow patties are simply a part of the process. Berkshire pigs nuzzle gardeners and cultivate the soil by rooting out weeds. Soon, when the Glasbern farm begins making cheese from the milk of the Devon cows, the pigs will happily snack on whey. Chickens pick out slugs and larvae, and dogs function as friends and sentries. It just so happens that Berkshires that have a balanced diet of whey and weeds and nuts and seeds (rather than the bakery or other commercial waste that factory farm hogs might consume) become tender, juicy, and healthful pork. How could it be otherwise?
We like to think that happy animals make tastier food—maybe this is true and maybe it isn’t. What is true is that in our modern world food and guilt have become twisted together. Consume a commercial egg and you feel the onus of the chicken’s unhappy caged life; consume a piece of a corn-fed cow which had been injected with antibiotics to counteract problems that would not have occurred had it been eating grass as a ruminant should and you feel not just remorse but worry too. The fullness of gastronomic delight comes from knowing that the pig, the cow, the dung beetle, the grass, and all of the other partners in the process are deeply respected, and that the chef has a profound appreciation for the life he transforms into dinner.
This is about life, energy, and a natural cooperative. It’s about human and environmental health.
It’s about time.
Vegetables on the Hill
The weather outside may be frightful, but on a sunny day the temperatures in the greenhouses on the hill can be absolutely delightful. Young salad greens, fennel bulbs, green beans, baby bok choi, and other treats grow in the beds, which are kept productive even in cold weather by the warm water that circulates in pipes set beneath the soil. The denizens of the hooped gardens, Kendell and her team (Betty Lou, Lottie, Susie, Sadie, and the girls), use whatever organic means they can think of to make sure the succulent greens are harvested for the inn, and not eaten by the many wild things who may have just that in mind.
Beer, for example, is a slug deterrent. And, Kendell tells me, slugs do have their preferences. She recently put out an assortment of beer for the greenhouse slugs to sample (and subsequently drown in) and found that they prefer Samuel Adams to either Yuengling or Budweiser. Sam Adams on tap, that is. One never knows when this bit of trivia might come in handy.
The team I spoke of earlier is ever vigilant for stealthy critters who may have a penchant for vegetables, or chickens. Lottie is in charge of groundhogs; Betty Lou keeps the mice from eating seeds and seedlings; Susie stands guard at the gate just in case a stray visitor from the inn strolls by so she can give them a friendly wagging; the girls (of the hen variety) peck at insect larvae and slugs in the empty greenhouse and fertilize it for spring. Sadie keeps one eagle eye on her hens, the other in the sky where there is invariably a hawk circling. If you get too close to her girls she will act ferociously protective … it is, I can assure you, an act.
Yes, it’s a winning team up there on the hill. Just ask Chef Stephen Browning.
New farm building is unveiled
On the rolling hill looking over the Glasbern Inn is a handsome new multi-use structure, built just for the herd of Devon milking cows that owner Al Granger has introduced to the farm. These heritage milkers are renowned for the high butterfat content in their milk and their aesthetically appealing long horns. They’re also known for having stubborn dispositions, which led Granger to acquire an assistant for herdsman Jason Angstadt—a spirited Australian Blue Heeler (also called an Australian cattle dog). Shelby will facilitate moving these beautiful cows from place to place so that they always have access to fresh grass. She has an easy time convincing the herd where they need to go, explains Jason. “Shelby is 
persistent to say the least and as long as she gets them going the right direction we have a pretty good result.” The Glasbern herd of milking cows will number about a dozen. “Twelve milking cows will give us enough milk produced from grass to fill our needs,” explains Granger.
Diners will soon see yogurt, butter, ice cream, and eventually cheese, all produced in the building up on the hill, on the menus in Glasbern’s dining rooms. This will bring the restaurant and Inn another step closer to being reliant on its own land. Grass-fed products are significantly higher in good Omega-3’s, CLA’s, vitamin A, E, and Beta-carotene, compared to grain-fed. They are simply healthier.
The Herdsman
- Jason and Shelby are a herding team!
Jason Angstadt had just returned from cattle school when I caught up to him. He was muddy (and I don’t even want to get into the constituents of said mud) from the knees down so I climbed into his 4-wheeler with him and Shelby, his rambunctious Australian cattle dog puppy, and said, “Take me to your favorite spot on the farm.” Up we went to the new dairy barn. Oh those lucky cows! You will be hearing more about the dairy barn as the operations there get into full swing. Jason showed me the milking stations and schooled me in basic cattle language, so that we could talk about what he learned in cattle school, namely, the ins and outs of “AI.” That’s Artificial Insemination in cattle talk. I will avoid the indelicate details and focus instead on why a herdsman on a hundred-acre property of an inn and restaurant needs to know how to “AI.”
First the basics:
A heifer is a female who has not yet had a calf.
A cow is a female who has had a calf.
A steer is a castrated male.
A bull is, well, you know.
Jason introduces new bloodlines to make better heifers, steers, and cows. Maybe an occasional bull—a single bull is able to service the Glasbern’s herd of 70 beef cattle and 13 milking cows (think about this) so steers are much more useful than bulls if your aim is producing grass-fed beef. And what does “better” mean in cow talk? Simply put, better is a heavier weaning weight, a shorter time to market, more milk. You guessed it: It’s all about the food.
You will see, if you wander around the farm, Jason’s carefully selected mix of breeds and hybrid crosses. There are russet-colored milking Devons, Devon-Highland crosses, assorted calves, and the photogenic Scottish Highland steers and heifers—they’re the ones with flowing hair and horns. You’ll see them “mob grazing,” that is, all together in the same fenced area. This is good for the soil, the grass, and the wildlife … and it means Jason has to move the entire herd to a new pasture every day. It’s a big job, he says, but help is on the way. Shelby is in training. Before long Jason will be putting his feet up in the 4-wheeler and watching her work.
Right, Jason?
Cattle in motion on the Glasbern farm
Meet Chef Stephen Browning
Browning does broccoli.
Last week chef Stephen Browning attended a seminar; he was the lone chef in a roomful of rangers. The farmers, herdsmen, butchers, slaughterhouse owners—and Stephen—learned about marketing their grass-fed meats, which is not as simple as it might seem. The demand is there—consumers are learning that when cattle graze on grass their meat contains more healthful lipids and antioxidants than their mass-produced counterparts—but slaughterhouses are often not equipped to give the meat the special treatment it requires. The beef grown and served at the inn is slaughtered at an off-site USDA approved abattoir, then delivered right to the Glasbern’s own butcher to be cut, trimmed, and shaped to Browning’s specifications. “Well, what did you learn?” I asked him. “That we’re doing it right,” he replied. “The Glasbern now has a cutting room, a butcher, and a cooler. People can buy our meats right from the source.”
Browning came to the inn a couple of months ago from Flatbush Farm, a Brooklyn restaurant known for farm-to-table eating. What lured him to the Glasbern was the opportunity to cook with the livestock that graze on the hill above the restaurant, to hand pick herbs, to get up close and personal with greens and broccoli and beans. When he’s not in the kitchen you might find him tasting sheep sorrel or purslane that grow wild on the property, or foraging for chanterelle and chicken-of-the-woods mushrooms. Cooking is an adventure to Stephen Browning. As his passion for different kinds of food preparation meanders, he learns new sets of skills. Besides whipping up wonderful meals with freshly harvested real food, Browning cures meats, he smokes meats, he cans vegetables. He uses the whole cow. This, he tells me, is not the usual way in the chef business.
Now that you have a cutting room, fresh herbs, a farmer who grows your vegetables, and a forest to forage in, is there anything left on your wish list? I asked Browning. He thought for a moment, and replied, “I’d like a smokehouse.” Then he added, “and I’d like to do some gardening.”
That one, Stephen, I can help you with. I just happen to know of a garden bed full of garlic mustard (which makes good pesto!) and sheep sorrel. A chef who experiments with edible weeds and a time-strapped gardener—sounds like a match made in heaven to me!
Home on the Range
This is a cowboy's smile
Not everybody gets to be a cowboy.
But when Al Granger, the owner of the Glasbern Inn and farm, gets an idea into his head there’s no stopping him. It was in 2003 that Al decided the inn could use a few Scottish Highland cattle—nobody who knew him was even slightly surprised to see them out on the range within weeks. Now, six years later, Al has learned a thing or two about raising grass, which, as it happens, is the key to raising cattle. Ask him what gives him the most satisfaction about the multifaceted inn/farm/wedding venue/restaurant that he built and his answer is decisive. “I’ve loved watching the land come back.”
Back in 1985, when the inn consisted of a farmhouse, a barn, and a few dilapidated outbuildings, the land was chemically farmed. By spreading compost and loads of aragonite, a soil conditioner made from seashells, thus making conditions right for growing vigorous grasses, Al has literally brought the fields back to life. Successions of Katahdin sheep and Devon-Highland cattle now graze the pastures. Hens follow the cattle rotation, foraging for insect larvae that hatch in cow patties, and redistributing the nitrogen. Like a giant game of musical chairs, animals are moved daily from pasture to pasture. And who knew that in the world of grazers, a revolution is happening—Al is looking ahead to having his cattle forage the little mini solar collectors we know as blades of grass year-round to produce meat you can feel really good about eating. But I’ll leave the details of how he keeps track of all that motion, and the question of how a cow can nibble grass through snow, for another time. The subject at hand is a boy named Albert and his cowboy fantasy turned reality.
What’s your dream?