Archive for the ‘Pastures’ 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!
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.
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?
What is Pasture to Plate?
If you’ve stayed at the Glasbern Inn you know about the romantic atmosphere of the restaurant, the luxurious whirlpool tubs, the beautiful gardens. In the background you may have noticed a flock of sheep, or some steers grazing up on the hill. What you may not know is that those animals in the background are, in some ways, at the very heart of what’s happening at the Glasbern Inn. Yes it’s a thriving inn, a beautiful wedding spot, a weekend destination. But it’s also Al’s grass farm. Al is the owner of the inn and the 100-acre property that surrounds it, and he knows that taking care of the soil—which sustains the grasses, which feed the livestock, which end up on the table—is a fundamental piece of the process. Pasture to Plate is not just a catchy phrase. I’m trying to be tactful about this but we must face facts. Those photogenic Scottish Highland cattle on the hill are not just for show.
Visit the Glasbern for a romantic getaway or a stupendous meal of homegrown meats and vegetables. Visit this blog to learn the behind-the-scenes stories of the people, animals, and plants that make, or in some cases become, the delicious Glasbern experience. Every living thing on the property has a purpose. Take this 6-month old pig, for example. She is a hard-working pig. Right now she’s enjoying a well-deserved break from 
rooting out weeds and cultivating the soil. Maybe (probably) she’s fertilizing the soil too. Last Friday she and her pig friend followed me around like a puppy, nudging the unmentionable and nibbling the inexplicable. Now to you and me, muck boots are not a delicacy, but to a pig, evidently, there is nothing tastier. Kendell, the inn’s farmer, enlightened me about the pigs’ farm chores as we did the pigtrot, which is similar to the foxtrot in that feet must remain in constant motion in order to avoid toe damage. Other VIPs you might encounter on the property are Lottie, Kendell’s Jack Russell, who spends her dog days chasing groundhogs (a full-time occupation at the Glasbern) and Gracie Lou, the greenhouse kitty in charge of mice. All of this is in the pursuit of honest food. Real food. Tender greens and carrots. Sun-ripened tomatoes and sweet delicata squash. Spicy fennel bulbs. Grass-fed beef.
And yes … sausage.