A glimpse at life beyond the computer and pile of legos…

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Today we have a special guest post from Dawn Warden, reporter for the Main Line Times and a good friend to Farm to Philly.  Enjoy!

My assistant reporter, Ben (9) and I, had a wonderful time a few weeks ago, roaming the countryside of North Coventry Township. Our mission: to chat with milk and cheese farmer/producer, Sue Miller, of Birchrun Hill Farm (2573 Horseshoe Trail Chester Springs) and Dan Heckler of Jack’s Farm (jacksfarm.net) a boutique “polyculture” micro-farm located in the outskirts of Pottstown.

Our efforts—and gas consumption—rewarded us with rolling hills, dairy and horse farms, and fabulous old stone homes. After meandering off course, and overshooting our destination, we landed at Camphill Village Kimberton, a biodynamic dairy (a VERY interesting place that deserves its own space), where Miller and her assistant, artist Sebastian Upson, whip up wheels of raw milk Birchrun Blue, Highland Alpine and Fat Cat.

I’ve only seen a couple cheese rooms, but I have to say, this one is pretty nice, roomy, with lots of windows and a nice-sized vat and drain table. There’s also a huge copper vat that I forgot to ask about, and a winch for extra-heavy loads.

When we arrived, Miller and Upson had just completed the whey separating process—they do this with an instrument called a harp, and it functions much like a whisk, but it’s a heck of a lot bigger. (I’m 5’3” and I could swear it looked as big as me.) My son and I both got a kick out of watching them lift the massive load of curds and remaining whey onto the drain table with a sturdy stretch of cheesecloth. 

The next step was to get the cheese-to-be into the plastic molds where separated into smaller amounts, it would drain some more and start to take the shape of the mold. That day, Miller was working on the Highland Alpine (front row in photos) and Fat Cat (back row).

We got to peek at the aging wheels that are kept in a separate room on the lower level of the barn. It is much cooler in there and smelled amazing—if you are a blue cheese fan. As much as I like goat cheese, I didn’t like the aroma as much when I visited Shellbark Hollow/Pete Demchur as I did the blue. (Pete’s cheese is wonderful too, and I regret not having my camera with me the day I visited.)

My son was dying to look at the farm animals, so after showing us the milking room, Miller took us to see the big girls. When we got there, we discovered a calf had been born overnight and was hobbling around trying to get its legs. The placenta was still hanging out of the mother, which as off-putting as it sounds was interesting to see. I got a huge rush of goose bumps and a little choked up because when you see this new life and the beautiful farm and all the milk and cheese and radiant smile on Miller’s face, it is hard not be in awe of life on a farm, of nature and the miracle of birth.

Corny, I know. But don’t knock it till you try it. 

More animals were in store for my son at Jack’s Farm, where Dan Heckler is now raising broiler chickens and pigs. (He has a waiting list for the pigs, and I know all you vegetarians will be miffed at me for saying this, but I would love to get one. I have never cooked an entire pig and it is a culinary goal.) He also has egg-laying ladies, making Jack’s Farm more convenient by the day. (One-stop shopping does make the day easier, right?) The Heckler homestead is lovely, as you can see from the photos we took. It is most definitely a little piece of heaven—and quite a fertile piece of property. The layout is very deceiving. The farm appears smaller than it is, but there are several growing areas, a washing and packing room, a couple of those neat-looking greenhouses made out of flexible material, and a nice-sized barn that also doubles as Dan’s wood working shop. 

It is really easy to romanticize about Heckler’s life; his house is one of those charming old stone creations with nooks and crannies and interesting accents that people spend gobs of money trying to replicate, and the physical space it sits on is wonderfully peaceful. But, when you see how much he has to take care of, it’s like “whoa!” this is hard work. He, though, seems to do it all with a smile on his face. (I did visit him on a gorgeously sunny and warm day—perhaps his demeanor would be a bit different in the pouring rain.

He was a proud papa, showing me rows upon rows of micro greens, cucumbers, nasturtium, asparagus, tomatoes, beets, carrots (five kinds), amaranth, artichokes, mâche (lamb’s lettuce), radicchio, arugula, strawberries, blueberries and more.

Currently, Heckler sells directly to restaurants and everyday customers through the Phoenixville Farmers’ Market and his farm stand—an open ended barn space filled with veggies, potted herbs, eggs, a cooler of homemade ice cream and a big can for customers to leave a little love for the farmer. (Yes, this is a man who has a high level of trust—and a great attitude. He told me he’s only been stolen from a couple of times, and his thought was, ‘if someone would go to that length, they need the money more than I do.’)

David Clouser of Sola restaurant in Bryn Mawr is the one who turned me on to Jack’s Farm and it is truly worth the drive if you are longing for a dose of rolling, bucolic roads and big ole barns and stone homes, and a few nibbles of pesticide, herbicide, icky-cide free produce.

My son made it through the tour, but a few moments of impatience and complaints over the flies and the heat made me realize, this kid needs to spend a lot more time with me getting reacquainted with the hard labor side of Mother Nature. After all, you do reap what you sow. 

For more photos from the trip, please go here.