Tag Archives: Bull Brook Keep

Where to go for healthful beef? Read on

In light of emerging scarcities, and a desire to provide a healthful alternative, Dave and I are offering a smaller variety pack of our grass-fed-grass-finished beef. This 15-lb. pack is called “To Your Health!” and includes ground beef, roast and steaks.  You can pick up at farm, or at a drop site (+$5) in Mpls/St.Paul metro, and Wisconsin Polk and St. Croix counties.

Suppy is limited. Find out more and to order, click here.

Wishing you health and calm.

Sylvia – your local, sustainable farmer

Larger packs, ground beef, soup bones and summer sausage also available.

Questions? Email (sylvia@bullbrookkeep.com) or call, 651-238-8525.

Downton Abbey and my small Wisconsin farm

 (My morning soundtrack – just 30 seconds)

I tucked my curls into my wool beret, pulled on my Wellies, and headed out, the hounds scrabbling around my knees. The mist felt good against my face.

“Oh dear,” I said as I turned a blistered grape leaf over in my hand. I held it up for Dave to examine: it was twisted, covered with galls and browning to brittleness.
Quick examination revealed all the vines were similarly affected.

“I’m afraid the grapes haven’t performed as we’d hoped,” I said to my husband, who frowned as he reviewed the long rows. “It’s so disappointing,” he huffed. “I’ll ask Tom to get the gardener out to take a look. Maybe he can tell us what’s going on and if there’s a remedy.” He gave me a rueful grin. “We just never know what a season will bring, do we, my dear?” With that, he shook his head, whistled for the dogs and headed off to the southern-most acres.

“I won’t be long,” he called back. “I’m just going to check on that covey.”  As he strode off, I couldn’t help but smile: he cut a fine figure in his casual hunting jacket.

The wind was out of the East and laying the grass flat. The air was wet, and the change of season evident in the fading roses and orange hawthorn berries. I pulled the collar of my barn coat up to my chin and began a brisk walk back to the house. I waved a hello to Mr. Grange as I passed the orchard. The apples were heavy and quickly ripening. Good.

I’ll ask Mrs. Hanes to set a tray of hot tea and scones, I thought to myself as I pushed through the tall grass. Then I’ve got to get to the letters. Recently married, cousin Lisle was motoring across Wales with her new husband Archie and stopping at every hint of a top-notch brood mare for their stables. She had posted a short note after a particularly disappointing inspection. She’s fanatical about her horses, but a sweet girl all the same. I needed to let her know she could stop here before heading back home.

I wonder if she can join us for a nice long stay over Christmas? I asked myself, as I crossed the threshold into the front hall. I could get my dear husband to entice Archie with a late-season hunt: a plan.

“Thank you,” I said to the the young footman as he closed the door behind me and took my coat. I headed to the back of the house, rubbing the chill from my hands and anticipating the warmth of the sitting room fire.

—–

Believe it or not, that scene played in my head while walking my rural Wisconsin cattle farm, Bull Brook Keep, this morning. Although I grew up in the tenements of the South Bronx, and now farm in rough jeans and thick Muck boots, lift 50-lb. packages of alfalfa, and manage a small herd of beef cattle, my mind superimposes other worlds. I see patrician wardrobes, hear British accents, and enjoy the company of not-really-there friends, family, and servants.

And yes, I did come in out of the drizzle for a cup of milky sweet tea and small apple hand-pie (home-grown, no less).

Sometimes it’s the weather that triggers it. When it’s cool and the clouds are skidding low, I’m on a Scottish coast with the cast of Outlander. I drive carts with The Poldarks. Why? Too much PBS? Should I blame my mother? She put a book of Shakespeare into my 12-year old hands and that was the end of that. Then again, Leon Uris’s Trinity hit me like a ton of bricks.

Or maybe all this was brought on by my cousin’s husband. I was just 10-years old when Kevin boisterously joined the family, fresh out of the military and newly engaged to cousin Betty. He was tall and ruddy, as strong and broad as the college football player he’d once been, and one of the warmest, most gregarious adults I’d ever met. We called him Red, and I’ve been in love with red hair, and Ireland, ever since.

Hmmm. Not sure, because I’m attracted to the Scots and Welsh as well.

The imaginary scenes have refused to remain cerebral musings. Two years ago, I began offering Cowgirl High Teas in our modern farmhouse. From the comfort of a table decked in linens, china and crystal, guests sip oolong, green and black teas with a clear view of the cows. I make and serve everything – cook and buttler, a meld of Downton’s Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Carson every time. I shape-shift from “upstairs” to “downstairs” and back again.

Why? Is this the cumulative impact of annual re-reads of Pride and Prejudice?  Maybe. Maybe it’s a yearning for the civility of another time, and to be part of a smaller, more easily comprehensible villege.

No, this is not about reaching back to the “good old days.” I fully understand that I would have been a scullery maid or slave 200 years ago. I also realize that the “upper crust” was usually blind to anything outside its close circle and immediate needs. They were motivated by greed and self-interest. So what else is new?

Still, I don’t want to live in just one place, in only one time, or bound to one social class. I like borrowing from the best around us now and the past, making it familiar and my own. I think we can permit ourselves the time to enjoy the company of new acquaintances around a table. We can give and accept service gladly provided.

It’s raining steadily now, and the forecast is for more of the same throughout the day. My smartphone app predicts sun tomorrow, which is a good thing because we have bales of hay to move to the farm. Yes, we will haul them. Dave and I won’t call on an imaginary groundskeeper, or wait for ghostly footmen to deliver us into our carriage. It’s our work to do.

All the same, I can’t guarantee there won’t be a Scots dialogue running through my head.

Miniature Boston Cream Pie

 

And yes, you’re invited to tea.

Sylvia

 

New pencils, windswept, and drenched

As a kid in the South Bronx, I loved this time of year because it meant new: yellow #2 pencils, notebooks with crisp clean pages, maybe a fresh book bag (this was way before backpacks), and spanking new clothes to start the school year. There would be one or two bright white shirts, a couple of new skirts (no pants or shorts back then), and fancy dresses for special ocassions.

The first couple of weeks might be a bit warm, but then the winds would start as the East Coast shifted into hurrican season. There were days when I’d walk to school at a 45-degree angle into the wind just to stay on my feet. It was pretty common to see an umbrellas tumbling down the street, spokes twisted and fabric turned inside-out by the gale.

 *   *  *

It was pretty calm this morning at Bull Brook Keep. The hydrant that feeds the line to the cow’s water trough is just 50 yards from the back door, but by the time I reached it this morning, my boots were drenched and my jean cuffs were begining to soak through. Late August-early September in the Upper Midwest usually means heavy dews on the grass and fogs that hang above the pastures and hay fields. The mists take longer and longer to burn off as we move through fall, until one day we’re closer to winter and the air dries again.

Parker greets the sun

Russian kale

Every surface was dripping this morning and it took just five seconds for the dogs to look as if they’d jumped into a stream. Ah, nothing like a wet corgi jumping on your jeans for a pat on the head.

Sourdough loaves are baking and it’s time for morning tea. Lots of calls to make this morning, and notes to take as I schedule this year’s harvest and upcoming deliveries of our grass-fed-grass-finished beef. Fortunately, I’ve got a new pen and a spiral notebook at hand.

Enjoy the changing seasons!

Sylvia

A Day in the Life (of a NYC baby boomer turned WI cattlewoman)

Wednesday, April 10, Bull Brook Keep

6:30 AM – dragged myself out of bed – yeah, I slept in. Slipped my feet into house shoes while Cathy Wurzer gave me an earful on the state-of-the-world according to MPR.
Usual morning ablutions followed by routine stretches and crunches.
Hefted a basket of laundry to the utility room, started up a load, and picked up a set of clean sheets from the linen closet as I made my way back to the bedroom.
      Note to self: sheets are getting really threadbare. Need a couple of new sets. Boy, that’s going to set me back.

2018-2019 winter fog

Thick fog blankets the farm, can’t even make out the cattle.
     Note to self: gotta wash the windows.
     Recollection — I’d never really seen thick fog before I got to the Upper Midwest; It’s just not something you notice much in the middle of New York City. It was in Duluth, Minnesota, the San Francisco of the North, that I fell in love with fog. I was a young TV/radio reporter, and this ground cloud felt miraculous. I remember driving my VW Bug into walls of pale gray as I snaked down from the hillsides above the city to the roads along the Lake Superior shore. Was it dangerous? I guess, but I loved being wrapped in it just the same. Still do.

Brewed a pot of tea. Sweetened and creamed it.
Note to self: need more half-and-half. Oh, and I need organic brown rice. Totally out — unacceptable. Also, out of carrots — unthinkable.

8:30 AM — Set the hot mug by my computer and opened up a couple of new documents. Dave and I are coordinating a staff evaluation effort for a nonprofit. Time to move the process to its next step. That’ll mean about 90 minutes generating and discussing the latest phase in the process.
      Note to self: It took 4 hours. Sigh.
     Put one load in the dryer and started another in the washer. Made Dave and myself a     quick breakfast of eggs and toast.

11:00 AM – For the second day in a row, Dave heads to the south fence line to brush out bushes and saplings while the weather’s cool and before leaves appear. A huge, physical job.

2:00 PM — My seat is killing me and my eyes are squinty from staring at the computer screen. Time to get outside and count up how many wood posts and how many metal t-posts I’ll need over the next several weeks, aka fencing season.
It always takes longer than I think it will. I restrung low-tensile fence while I was walking the lines. I need 50 or more t-posts, a good dozen wooden posts. Maybe another half-mile of wire.

I join Dave along the south fence line to help him pull together piles of the branches he’d cut down the last couple of days. Mine was a very small contribution.
Dave used the skid steer, equipped with the grapple (massive metal claws), to lift the branches off the road and onto our farm property.

Siggy kept me company, digging through hay piles and nosing holes. He’d wander off every once in a while but always stayed within view.
Although the temp wasn’t too bad, a couple of hours in the stiff wind made me very happy I’d worn a hat, wrapped a scarf, and pulled on long johns.

5:00 PM —Now to move some hay before the storm hits.
Thank you, God, again, for the warm clothes, house, and equipment.

8:00 PM – Made dinner (oven-fried chicken and steamed broccoli), and the snow started. Dave and I watched some Netflix.
Note to self: I need to quit slouching in the armchair; I’m giving myself a chronic backache. New chair?

10:35 PM — I finish up the few dishes left in the sink and wash off kitchen counters. I lock the doors.
 Note to self: Before hitting the sack, write down all the things that need to be done tomorrow. Trying to keep everything in my brain is exhausting and risky.

11:05 PM — I flipped off the lights. To bed.

Growing past our tomorrows in organic farming and eating

It was a nail biter: whiteouts every few minutes, ice building on the roadbed, semi’s and cars in the ditch. It was late February in northern Wisconsin, so it wasn’t like this weather was rare. It was treacherous, but there wasn’t any way I wasn’t going to get to La Crosse, WI. The 30thAnnual Organic Farming Conference was due to start in a couple of days and I was going to get there.

Put on by the Midwest Organic & Sustainable Education Service (MOSES), I’ve attended the event many times, watching it grow from a gathering of fewer than 100 to the biggest organic farming gathering in the United State, if not the world. Now, as a member of the MOSES board of directors, I worried bad weather would cut attendance and dampen spirits.

I stewed as we rolled through the miles: MOSES staff had – with its signature professionalism and efficiency – developed an exciting program of 60 breakout sessions, nine full-day Organic University classes, and numbers of roundtable discussions, film screenings, and more. Presenters and keynote speakers were en route (I hoped) from all across the country. Exhibitors were due to spotlight the latest in equipment, ideas for cultivation, seed, consultation services, grant opportunities, and technical assistance.

Then there were the researchers, policy makers, financial and communications experts, and educators making their way on ice-crusted roads.

Would all the farmers make it? Pre-registration indicated we could expect at least 2,000+ from rural communities in 40+ states and points beyond, including China. Many were producing from certified organic acres. Others were transitioning, and still other contemplating this shift to organic practice.

From past experience, I knew attendees would include scores of pioneers – the men and women who laid the foundations of the organic sector and pushed for the passage of the Organic Foods Act of 1990.  They’d get to the conference come hell or high water (or six-foot snow drifts).

The snow began to lighten through the evening. By Friday, 2,900 attendees packed the La Crosse Convention Center and filled area hotels.

As with any good event, no sooner does it begin than it’s over, and you’re stopping for last hugs and coordinating calendars for pastures walks or FaceTime. Ultimately, this year’s event did for me what it’s done before: it lifted my thinking above the weather and into a place where I would not only welcome the coming growing season, but think into the future – our future.

Well, Spring begins tomorrow. As the drifts melt, I can see fences to mend and calves to prepare for at my farm, Bull Brook Keep. Possibilities swirl for this and next year: Should my husband Dave and I get into hazelnuts? How might that work in combination with Icelandic chickens for insect control in my BueLingo beef herd? Should I get on the bus and lobby at the state capital? How will I find young farmers who’d like to build their skills and income on my land?

Two conference take-aways are helping me explore these ideas: Thursday’s day-long “Organics 2051” session, and Friday’s keynote panel.

“Organic 2051” was emblematic of what MOSES does every year, at every event and conversation – tap the wisdom of the crowd. It was a full day of intensive conversation about the organic sector 30 years from now. Audrey Arner (organic farmer/organics pioneer/past president of MOSES Board of Directors) facilitated the gathering of over 100 thought leaders as they envisioned the growth and strength, challenges and obstacles faced by the organic sector nationwide.

The participants self-selected to spend the day focused on one of 15 issue areas, including market infrastructure, climate change, rural community revitalization, and livestock. I was a fly on the wall, moving from group to group.  I listened as farmers and ranchers, financiers and policy makers, economists, marketers, and consumer advocates put their heads together over thorny and complex challenges. They identified key opportunities, drilled down to major obstacles, and worked to synthesize possible strategies.

 

I was struck by their will to hear every voice.  There was so much experience, youthful energy, creativity and hope at each table. Their conversations were pooled into written proceedings as well as artistic renderings. At the end of the day, their ideas and suggestions live on the MOSES website so that hundreds more can help shape direction and action.

The other big impression came from Friday’s keynote panel.

I’d been given the honor to moderate this exchange among six champions, men and women who helped shape the philosophy and practice of the sector, and were instrumental in the passage of the Organic Foods Act of 1990. The panel included Audrey Arner, organic farmer and former MOSES board member and board president; Atina Diffley, organic farmer, educator and author of Turn Here Sweet Corn; Faye Jones, helped establish the Organic Farming Conference, and first director of MOSES; Jim Riddle, helped develop the organic standards, inspector training, with wife Joyce Ford the 2019 MOSES Organic Farmer of the Year; George Siemon, CEO and early organizer of Organic Valley, served on National Organic Standards Board; and Francis Thicke, organic dairy farmer, served on NOSB, on first MOSES Board of Directors.

Each explained how the organic standards they worked to develop in the 1970s, 80s and 90s must be vigorously defended and expanded. They stressed that it is our responsibility to protect organic regulations from well-financed pressures to dilute them. The panel emphasized that the bar must be pushed ever higher.

It was humbling to sit on the stage with these leaders. I got to know most of them while serving as a public relations consultant in the late 1980s. They showed me organic farming could be done well. As they spoke, I looked out beyond the stage lights to the large crowd of students, 20-somethings and 30-somethings, clusters of 40-somethings and 50-somethings with children. They were listening.

Winter’s done, and, hopefully, the deepest freezes are behind us. Once we get through the thaw, we’ll start our growing season. We’ll get super busy; we always do.

Before the long days begin, I’ll need to schedule time to do what I can to protect and improve our standards, to think forward to those young men and women who’ll grow organic foods in 2051 and beyond.

I hope you’ll join me, our nation’s organic and sustainable farmers, and MOSES in this movement.

Sylvia

OK, so technically, I’m not from Puerto Rico. It was my grandparents who sailed to the mainland in the early 1900s landing in Manhattan and Pennsylvania (not sure of the city). They carved lives, worked jobs and built families. Me – I’m a Newyorican transplanted to the Upper Midwest in the early 1970s.

I’m just back from visiting my Mom (now in assisted living in New Jersey) and my younger sister and brother. I never laugh as much as when I’m with them. It’s absolutely raucous. Always is. Cathy’s a great cook, brother Chris is a CIA-degreed chef. Both are married to great cooks and gourmands, so it was no surprise that they chose an over-the-top restaurant for our Saturday night out. Reyla, a modern Middle Eastern restaurant in Asbury Park, NJ exceeded expectations. Mutliple dishes dotted the table, each rooted in Mediterranean cuisine: Greek, Israeli, North African. The ingredients were fresh. The sauces distinct, layered and deeply flavored. The Italian wine proved a perfect complement. Joined by yet another family couple, the conversation was easy, the laughter frequent, and the joy evident. An evening to remember.

And now, I’m home. Ahh. The sun’s bright on the fields, and the cows are reclined on a south hill out of the wind. Soon I’ll switch on the tractor’s engine block heater and prepare to move a 1,000-pound bale of hay out to the herd. Then I guess it’ll be paper work for this coming season’s Bull Brook Keep beef sales, sourdough bread-baking classes, and the next Cowgirl High Tea.

Siggy

I’ll get to it in a few minutes. Right now, things are quiet. Dave is reading. Each of our three dogs has found his own shaft of sunlight, and I’m finishing up a cup of tea.

I’ll make my brunch, and then get a move on.

Today’s morning break: Blackeyed peas in a hoppin’John stew flavored with organic pork hocks, organic brown rice, Italian roasted red peppers, and a forkful of spicy kimchi. (Sorry, no photo. It just disappeared too quickly!)

Tomorrow: Israeli hummus and shakshuka.

Sylvia

Strategies for holiday cooking/baking and loving leftovers. And keeping down the stress.

Holiday cooking is all about sharing love, hospitality, food…and stress!!?

You never want to find yourself without enough for seconds. And you don’t love the thought of piles of food languishing in the back of the fridge. So, some thoughts:

About those leftovers. First, make sure all your dishes were cooled and stored well. You don’t want to get queasy from food left out on the table too long.

Since we just celebrated Thanksgiving and you may have already had your fill of turkey sandwiches

  • Think of changing the taste or texture of your dish so that it’s something really different, and not a replay. Think Asian spices – ginger, soy sauce, chopped scallions. Or go Italian with oregano, fragrant basil and parmesan cheese. Or Indian with oregano, cardamom, black pepper, mustard and cumin seed.
  • Got slightly stale dinner rolls, bread ends, sad slices from an appetizer tray? Make bread pudding! Scroll down for recipe.
  • Chucks of turkey are great for lots of dishes.
    • If adding to a soup or stew, be careful not to overcook the poultry. Make your broth or stew first (with all the veggies), then add the poultry (diced or shredded) to warm thoroughly.
    • Dice or shred and make creamed turkey on biscuits. Yum. Make a white sauce (first a butter and flour roux, add milk or broth, white pepper, cook for 20 minutes at lowest simmer), then add the poultry).
    • Sauté chopped onion and green pepper will just becoming golden. Add diced turkey and warm through. Add several beaten eggs and you’ve got an omelette.
    • Make bone broth. Pull all the meat from the carcass and place all the bones into a slow cooker along with a couple of large carrots and celery sticks (broken in two) and an onion cleaved in half. Add a generous teaspoon of black pepper corns, 2 bay leaves, a teaspoon of salt, and a tablespoon of vinegar (to pull minerals from the bones). Cook on low for 8-10 hours. Remove all the solids. Cool and store in the fridge or freeze. Don’t toss out the fat!!! It’s got loads of flavor.
    • Use leftover wild rice in soup or stews.
    • Or combine with a bit of flour, an egg beaten with a dash of milk, salt and pepper to taste, and some finely diced turkey. Shape into patties and fry in a thin film of butter. Yum!
  • Make a creamy soup with leftover squash/pumpkin/sweet potatoes or cooked carrots. Some proportions to consider if you’ve got 2-3 cups of leftover veg.
    • First sauté an onion or two in butter. Add 1-2 cups chicken, turkey, or vegetable broth. Simmer gently for 20 minutes. Smash squash/carrots and add to soup. Add a bit of grated nutmeg, salt and pepper. If you want a cream soup, add 1/2 c milk/cream/coconut cream now and simmer gently for another 20 minutes. Be careful not to boil. Taste and add seasonings. If you’d like a curry soup, add 1 tsp curry powder along with the squash.
  • Add 1/2 c leftover wild rice or brown rice, or 1/4 c cheese to you next bread loaf.
  • Combine mashed potatoes, stuffing, a couple of eggs and splash of milk to make waffles!

Now for just a few holiday entertaining strategies

Cranberry-almond frangipane tart

  • Bake ahead. In addition to those wonderful holiday cookies, consider making and freezing bundt cakes!  They’re easy to bake, look beautiful and freeze and thaw like a dream. There are great recipes all over the internet. Cakes can be stored at room temp for 3 days. To freeze, be sure cakes are completely cooled but not glazed. Wrap the cooled cakes first in plastic and then in aluminum foil. Allow frozen cakes to thaw overnight in frig, and then give them a couple of hours to come to room temperature. If you’re going to glaze the cake or drizzle icing over, do so when completely cooled. My favorite right now is Mexican chocolate (made with cinnamon and ancho chili powder) with a dulce de leech glaze. It disappears.
  • You can also freeze cupcakes once cooled, wrapped in plastic and then in aluminum foil.
  • Make and freeze soups, chilis, and stews. Store in deli container or pint-sized canning jar, just be sure to leave a good 1-1/2 inch space at top. They’re quick to thaw when company shows up.
  • Think cornbread. It’s fast to make when company calls.
  • Make liver pate. Mine includes freshly cracked pepper, fragrant brandy and luscious butter. It freezes like a charm and I’ve watched kids lick the spoon.
  • Spices. If those jars of ground spices are over two years old, you’re note getting the best flavors into your dishes. Consider buying whole spices – peppercorns, cinnamon sticks, cardamom, nutmeg – and grinding them yourself in a cheap little coffee grinder. And keep those herbs and spices in a cool, dark spot. Not out on a shelf where heat and light degrade them very rapidly.
  • Oils. Store in dark and cool places. Light and heat degrade oils. If possible, store in your frig to keep them from becoming rancid. If your olive oil is more than a year old, toss. It’s bitter and probably quite rancid. Better to buy smaller amounts and can be used up quickly.

Bread pudding

  • 3 1/2 c day-old (or older) bread cut into 3/4-inch cubes
  • 2 c whole milk
  • 1/3 c sugar
  • 3 large eggs 2 tsp vanilla
  • 1/2 tsp almond extract (or add more vanilla)
  • 2 T unsalted butter, diced
  • 1/4 c sliced nuts, or sunflower seeds, or raisins, or combo of any and all

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Place bread cubes on baking sheet and bake for 10-15 minutes.  Place in a  large bowl.

Lower temp to 325 degrees F.   Butter a 8×8 baking pan.

Scald the milk in a sauce pan. Pour over the bread cubes and let stand 15 minutes.

With an electric mixer, beat the eggs with the sugar till thick and light. This can take up to 8 minutes. Add the extracts.

Pour into the bread mixture, add whatever nuts/raisins you’d like. Stir briefly. Scrape into the baking pan. Dot with the butter.

Cover the pan with aluminum foil that has been buttered. Bake 35-40 minutes.  The custard will still look a bit moist.  Serve warm or at room temp.

Shooting star

It was nearly midnight. I closed my mystery novel and pulled myself out of my red over-stuffed armchair to let the dogs out one last time before bed.

The night breeze was delicious. The day’s awful heat and humidty were gone, thank goodness. While working out in the pastures, it had felt as if I’d been breathing through a hot sponge. The chores, however, had to be done – my BueLingo herd needed fresh grass and filled water troughs. Three hours into it, I felt my face grow red beneath my wide-brimed straw hat. The temp had climbed to near 90, and the sun pressed unrelenting. I retreated to a shady deck chair and big glasses of cold water.

The hot afternoon slipped into a warm evening.

The dogs scurried into the dark. I walked away from the house lights and found myself under an umbrella of stars. The longer I looked, the more pin points of light popped into view. It was dizzying. The Milky Way draped to the southwest, and the Big Dipper was behind my right shoulder. Where was the Perseus constellation? I never remembered from year to year. I’d have to look that up tomorrow.

The dogs churned around my ankles, bringing me back to earth. Just as I turned to go in, I caught a shooting star flair east to west over the roof. A wondrous birthday gift.

Thank you God.

Sylvia

Aug. 12-13. 2018 meteor shower

 

2018 Coop Farm Tour at Bull Brook Keep – Thanks for coming!

Boy, was it sunny yesterday! A perfect day for the Coop Farm Tour. Once again, Dave and I are glad our farm – Bull Brook Keep – was one of the 30+ rural and urban farms participating in this annual event, which is organized by a consortium of Twin Cities natural foods coops. (Thanks Allison Heitmiller!)

A big thanks to everyone who visited from near and far. Our cattle are grass-fed and grass-finished, so it was a pleasure to demonstrate how we rotate our BueLingo herd across our fields. We were proud to offer samples of our summer sausage (no artificial nitrates or nitrites), and our ground beef – in a savory chili. We enjoyed answering questions and explaining our sustainable practice as we walked up the pasture.

A big THANK YOU, to our farm tour volunteer, Joe Henson. Joe works at the Lakewinds Food Coop meat department, and proved a huge help on the farm. Not only personable and knowledgeable, he helped set up temporary paddocks, he welcomed visitors and helped tell our story. He was great! Joe, you were a huge asset to the day. We hope you’ll come back to visit with family and friends soon.

Sylvia & Dave Toftness, and Coop Farm Tour volunteer Joe Henson.

Please post photos of your visit to our farm. Miss the farm tour? No problem. We welcome visitors every month of the year. Just give a call. We’d love to hear about your food journey.
Sylvia

 

WCCO TV shines light on Saturday’s (July 14th) Eat Local Coop Farm Tour – quick video

Wedge Coop’s Allison Heitmiller preps for TV

It was fun on the WCCO TV set this morning. A big thanks to the Mid Morning Team, to the Twin Cities’ natural food coops, and to Allison Heitmiller from the Wedge Community Coop for helping food lovers learn about this weekend’s Coop Farm Tour. Here’s the video.

Our farm, Bull Brook Keep, is again glad to be one of the 30 rural and urban farms on the map. We’ll be moving cows to fresh grass at 10AM, 1PM and 3PM, offering samples and taking short pasture walks. We’d love to hear about your food journey. There are also five other farms within a short circle of us that are part of the tour, making it easy to visit a range of operations – a grass-fed dairy and cheese-making creamery, CSA vegetable, and trout farm – within a few quick miles. These are wonderful, sustainably operated farms producing delicious and highly nutritious foods. At the end of the day, you can relax and enjoy a great meal at the Farm Table Restaurant in downtown Amery, WI.

I hope you enjoy this morning’s interview.

Sylvia Burgos Toftness & Dave Toftness