Spring

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Ahh, back on the farm! We grilled spring veggies to compliment the beef.

Six years ago my husband Ken returned from a trip to the Davis Square farmer’s market with an armload of frozen meat—skirt, sirloin and flank steaks, hamburger patties, and one-pound packages of stir-fry beef. His explanation? “I met this really cool guy who’s selling naturally raised beef.” Really? In my husband’s vocabulary the word “met” often translates into “encountered for the first time and had a detailed conversation about an obscure topic of mutual interest.”

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River Rock offers all cuts of beef – the only one they have trouble selling is liver.

The man was Jon Konove of River Rock Farm. Ken and Jon had a mutual dislike for the feedlot system that is the predominant model for raising cattle in the United States. They talked about how River Rock Farm was raising pastured cattle on a mixture of grass and grain, about the effect of recently enacted legislation regulating the use of the term “organic” in food labeling, and finally, why Jon and his family had made the decision not to pursue organic certification for their beef. Whether they discussed all of this during that first encounter I can’t say. But I do know that for years Ken was given to introducing some speck of agricultural arcana with the phrase “John Konove and I were talking…” Tragically, Jon was killed in an automobile accident in 2006.

We have remained devoted fans of River Rock Farm beef. We like knowing the people who produce what we eat. If we can see the animals that will eventually become our food, even better. The business is too small to supply Rialto with meat except as specials, but when it comes to my family shopping dollars, the portion I spend on beef goes to River Rock. If we want to splurge, stocking up before an annual trip to the Cape for example, nothing beats a River Rock Farm dry-aged, three-inch Porterhouse steak for grilling. We order it ahead of time and then pick it up at our farmer’s market.

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Angus-Simmental steers greated us upon arrival at River Rock.

I chose River Rock as a destination for our Guerrilla Grilling team a couple of weeks ago because I wanted to see for myself how the farm was doing since Jon’s death, and to give my staff a close up look at how some of the animals we choose to eat are treated on a representative family farm in Massachusetts.

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Seth

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Joanna

Seth and Joanna McDonough and Joanne Johnson took over as farm managers in January of this year. The young couple previously managed a vegetable farm together and wanted to get experience with cattle so River Rock seemed a natural fit for them. Joanne also teaches art in the local school system and at one point during our tour she stopped to bottle feed a calf whose mother is having problems producing milk. “Seth does most of the work,” she says, a claim that he denies. With his pony tail, beard, and cammo baseball cap, their shared muddy boots and the nursing calf they look like a farming couple straight out of central casting. The desire to own their own farm someday is a big part of their motivation. “It’s great work, and it’s outdoors. I like working hard,” Seth says. He laughs. “You have to like working hard, and not making money.”

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A classic New England family farm.

Making money was the last thing on Ron and Kay Konove’s minds when they purchased the 100-year-old working farm in Brimfield in 1993 as a weekend retreat and as a home for Kay’s horses. Most family farms in Massachusetts are less than fifty acres—River Rock has twenty-eight. As you pull into the driveway, you’re nestled between a small farm house above and a red barn below. Your eye travels down a dirt road past the barn down into a valley outlined with fences that contain a few horses, clusters of steers in muddy pastures and a mother cow with her baby. Chickens roam freely.

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Roo-pops and his hens.

The Konove’s wanted to keep their farm active, but they didn’t set out to establish a beef business. Initially they only wanted to raise a few Angus beef steer for their freezer. In 2002 their son Jon postponed his entry into veterinary school to help them with their cattle, which had expanded from those early steers into a “beef program” with a herd of twenty. He moved onto the farm several months later, veterinary school disappeared from the radar screen and he spent the next four years overseeing the treatment of the cattle, as well as marketing, delivering and selling River Rock beef all over the Boston area. He became a fixture at farmers’ markets, well-known and well-liked (especially when cooking samples on the portable grill at farmers’ markets).

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Joanne coulnd’t help but naming this little guy Shamus.

Jon was invested in River Rock Farm as both a farmer and a family member, with a motivation to work around the clock. His death required some rejiggering of how things got done to make the job of farm manager doable for an outsider. The man who delivers hay to the farm was hired to make the weekly trip to the slaughterhouse with steers. On occasion, the farm even gets a little volunteer labor. Louise (in the blue vest below), whose high school son Nathan (with the red headband) works part-time on the farm during the school year, comes around once a week just to pitch in, simply because she enjoys it. She’s been doing it for years. “She’s the farm super star,” Seth says, “She can do anything.” Anything can encompass caring for the farm horses to her current undertaking—repairing pasture fence lines.

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The whole team – It’s amazing what these four can get done.

Do Seth’s and Joanne’s friends ever come to help out? The idea of their friends working on the farm strikes them as laughable. “They like to visit,” Seth says. “I think they like the farm atmosphere,” Joanne adds. They share a look. “But they don’t come to work.”

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Early signs of spring at River Rock.

The work at River Rock revolves around the care of the farm’s steers. Most of the beef in the United States comes from steers, that is, castrated male cattle. The farm buys young steers from “cow-calf operations,” farms that concentrate on breeding heifers and then selling the calves. When they arrive at the farm they’re roughly a year old and range in size from 600 to 1000 pounds; at slaughter, eight or ninth months later, the steers weigh between 1300 and 1350 pounds. The variability in age and size is accounted for by the fact that River Rock buys steers year round, just as they send steers to slaughter year round. Cow-calf operations tend to focus on specific breeds or crosses, so for example while one farmer may only sell Black Angus, another’s calves may be an Angus-Simmental cross, and yet another may offer Herefords.

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Angus-Simmental steers, Simmental and Heiffer-cross.

From Seth’s perspective all of these produce flavorful beef so the particular composition of the River Rock herd is always changing. One of the things that distinguish River Rock Farm beef from the typical supermarket product is the healthy and humane way the former raise their steers. “We have two things going for us,” Seth says, “how our beef tastes, and how we treat our animals.” Part of that humane treatment (and part of what contributes to the beef’s flavor) is the fact that for most of their lives the steers that end up at River Rock Farm roam freely in pastures, eating grass. Most supermarket beef comes from cattle raised on feedlots, fattening on a diet of corn, soy and molasses fortified with antibiotics and hormones to promote rapid weight gain (thus lowering production cost).

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A well-marbled dry-aged River Rock steak.

River Rock cattle’s grass diet is supplemented with grain for three months before slaughter to encourage marbling in the meat. But their diet contains no added hormones or antibiotics. If a cow becomes sick, Seth isn’t averse to treating it with antibiotics, but only as a curative measure. River Rock describes its beef as “natural;” if they were to pursue a certification as organic any steer treated with antibiotics would have to permanently culled from the herd, which they don’t want to do.

Joanne and Seth keep a couple of breeding cows and their calves to remind themselves of the life cycle that supports them, but as a practical matter River Rock does not raise steers from calves to maturity. “Cow-calf operations tend to be pretty pasture-intensive, at least the ones that offer grass-fed steers in the numbers that we need them,” Seth says. Forty steers, give or take a few, is about what River Rock Farm’s twenty-five acres of pasture can handle. River Rock boards another couple of dozen steers on a farm in Connecticut where they can be pastured.

The River Rock story is still evolving. It started with two steers and grew to around eighty under Jon Konove. Counting the steers sent out for boarding, the farm has about three-quarters of that now. What happens next? The Konove family and Seth are trying to figure out how to dovetail the future with Jon’s vision. What do the customers want? What does the farm want? Seth says, “River Rock customers are people who prioritize food in their lives and are able to pay premium prices for River Rock beef.” Is that customer base changing in the economic downturn? Is there a way to make the meat less expensive? “Grain is the most expensive ingredient in the process, aside from purchasing the animals.” The grain Seth is describing is corn. “If we could grow our own grain, we would save money.” It’s something to consider, just as Jon’s unrealized ambition to bring lambs onto the farm is worth thinking about.

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These beautiful sirloin rump steaks are worth their premium price.

The company is vertically integrated, meaning they raise the steers, arrange for slaughter, dry-age the beef and market the product. While this gives River Rock control over all aspects of the business, it may not be the most efficient way for them to grow. If they were to grow, how would expansion affect the character of the business? All of these are questions for the future. Seth and Joanne are still settling in. ”Basically, what we’re focusing on is a better product.” He only has two things to sell, he repeats, ”How we’re raising the animals and the quality of the product.”

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Jody breaking bread.

This season, River Rock Farm will have a stand at farmers markets including Lexington, Davis Square in Somerville, Brookline, North Hampton and Harvard (the town, not the university). They also sell to a few restaurants, co-ops and specialty food markets. Check out their website for an up-to-date list of where to find them: www.riverrockfarm.com. River Rock Farm also encourages people to visit them in Brimfield, get a tour of the property, meet the farmers and buy some of that yummy beef. It’s an easy trip down the Pike.

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The artichoke is an enigma. How did anyone ever think to peel away all of those spiny, tough exterior layers to find a small, tender and (finally!) edible heart within? I imagine it was a spring day in dusty, ancient Rome when a curious, hungry farmer stumbled over a wild thistle that hadn’t yet blossomed and started unfolding its leaves. After much sampling of leaf after bitter leaf, his perseverance paid off with a yellow-green core that tasted somehow earthy, grassy and tin-like all at once.  From that day on, like a holy trinity, the Roman Spring Artichoke became the emblem of the eternal city.

But an emblem does not an easy vegetable make. Unlike sweet, petite spring peas that seem to have a generous spirit (I imagine them dancing in white linen dresses singing: “Sauté me. Blanch me. Pop me in your mouth.”), thorny, bitter artichokes are demanding. They require trimming, peeling, rubbing with lemon, cooking or dressing to make them delicious.  But at the end of the day, they’re worth it.  Whether dragging an aioli-dipped steamed leaf across my teeth or chomping on shaved raw baby artichokes dressed simply with lemon, olive oil, Parmigiano Reggiano, salt and pepper, the artichoke is a welcome, albeit crotchety, friend come April and May.  

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I have found that preserving lots of artichokes all at once is a great way to get the most bang for your buck. There are a number of ways to go about it.  In Italy, you often find delicious carciofi sott’olio on an antipasti plate. These artichokes are first gently pickled with vinegar and then immersed in oil.  I prefer to use a confit-style recipe that produces a more versatile, less acidic, flavor and yields an ideal addition to your pantry. 

Confit is typically a French technique (from the verb confire to preserve) for preserving by cooking meat in a fat.  In my recipe for artichoke confit, you trim and slow-cook baby artichokes under olive oil until they’re tender. Submerged in olive oil, the artichokes last for months.

Don’t be scared off by the amount of oil the recipe requires.  The oil becomes infused with artichokes, lemon and thyme and can be used in vinaigrette over salads, as a liquid to poach shrimp in or drizzled over roasted vegetables or grilled fish.  Tender, baby artichokes (similar to the classically Roman kind) are the best ones to use for this recipe but large, globe ones trimmed down to their softer, interior yellow leaves work as well.

I have recommended three recipes below — braised chicken thighs with artichoke confit, artichoke confit and celery salad and finally a very yummy, very easy chicken and artichoke sandwich. The possibilities, however, are endless.

 

Baby Artichoke Confit

2 lemons

2 cups extra virgin olive oil

1 cup onion, diced 1/2 inch

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

Kosher salt

2 pounds baby artichokes, trimmed and cut in half (about 24)*

Zest of 1 lemon

1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves

1/2 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes

Scrub 2 lemons, then cut them in half. Combine the juice of 1  1/2 of the lemons with 2 quarts cold water in a large bowl. Add the squeezed rinds to the water.  Save the remaining lemon half to use during trimming.*

One at a time, trim 1/2 inch off the crown of each artichoke and snap off any tough or scarred outer leaves, until only pale green leaves remain. Trim away the tip of the stem and peel the stem itself. As you finish each artichoke, rub the cut spots with the lemon half to prevent the flesh from turning brown and cover with acidulated water until ready to use. The choke of a baby artichoke is edible after cooking, so you don’t need to remove it.  

Heat the 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil and the onions in a large non-reactive pan over medium heat.  Cook 8 minutes or until the onions are tender.  Add the garlic and cook until it releases its perfume, another minute or so.  Season with salt.

Add the trimmed artichokes with the remaining ingredients to the pan.  Season with salt.  Add enough olive oil to just cover the artichokes.  (Don’t fret about the large quantity  of olive oil you will be using. The oil will become infused with artichokes and is wonderful for making a vinaigrette.) Cover with a lid and simmer until the artichokes are tender when pierced with a knife.  Check after 15 minutes.  Larger artichokes may take 30 to 40 minutes. 

Allow the artichokes to cool in the oil.

Refrigerate when cool.

*A note on trimming artichokes

Trimming artichokes involves several simple but necessary steps that appear to discard a major portion of the vegetable.  Don’t worry.  You’re not removing anything edible.  The point of trimming an artichoke is to make it easy to reach the edible parts.  Baby artichokes, about 1 1/4 ounces each, require less trimming than larger ones, which range from 8 ounces to well over a pound.  Bigger is not necessarily better. Baby artichokes haven’t had time to outgrow their young tenderness, and more of the vegetable is edible. The “choke,” the thistle-like center of the artichoke, is edible in a cooked baby artichoke; in an adult, it must be removed as part of the trimming process.

Artichokes will discolor easily during trimming, from contact with a carbon-steel knife or from prolonged exposure to air. You can remedy this by using a knife with a stainless steel blade and rubbing the cut spots with a lemon half. Cut-and-rub is a habit worth cultivating.  If you’re not going to use the trimmed artichokes immediately, keep them covered with acidulated water (water containing lemon juice) until you need them.  Two lemons will suffice for trimming 2 pounds of artichokes (3 to 4 medium-sized ones or 24 babies).  They’ll yield enough juice for 2 quarts of acidulated water, with enough lemon left over for rubbing the cut surfaces as you trim.

 

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Jody in search of Spring Roman Artichokes

 

                

                       

 

 

Braised chicken thighs with artichoke confit

Artichoke confit and celery salad

Chicken and artichoke confit sandwich





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By the last week of August I’m tired of the all-corn all-tomato diet (although, if I could, I’d eat a summer tomato sandwich with Hellman’s every morning).   

 

Whining about a surfeit of corn and tomatoes is like complaining about the second hot day in June, after carping all winter about the rain and cold.  Nevertheless, come Labor Day, I begin fantasizing about squash and apples—filling the house with the smells of slow, cold-weather cooking.     

But before the leap to autumn roasting and baking, there are still the special pleasures of late summer vegetables.  At the farmer’s market the other day, I found scallions, garlic, green beans, Swiss chard, mint, basil and exquisite mottled cranberry beans.  The beans had to be shucked, but that gave me a chance to slow down and just hang out at the kitchen table, listening to the beans dropping into the blue ceramic bowl in my lap.  As the beans fell through my fingers, I figured out what I want to do with my vegetables.

What follows is very much a Roman approach to cooking vegetables, like Spring Vignole—a vegetable stew where all the flavors meld.    

 

Autumn Beans

I started with 1 cup of scallions, sliced crosswise ½-inch thick—use both white and green parts—and sweated them in about ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil for about 3 minutes in a large deep sided sauté pan over medium heat.  Then I added 1 1/2 cups of fresh cranberry beans and took a last look at their patterns and coloring.  Once they are cooked, the cranberry veins fade away and the creamy white color of the beans turns pearly.  I added salt and pepper, some fresh thyme sprigs, about 2 cups of water and then covered the pan. Fresh cranberry beans don’t take as long as dried beans, but they are starchy and need to absorb quite a bit of water to become tender.  This took about 30 minutes over medium heat.  By the times the beans were cooked, the water had been absorbed. 

While the beans were cooking, I stripped the leaves off a large bunch of Swiss Chard stalks, pulled the strings from the stalks and cut them on the diagonal into ½-inch thick pieces.   In a second pot, I started with about 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, added the white part of the chard, seasoned it with salt and pepper, and cooked them for about 4 minutes on medium-high.  I threw in 2 tablespoons of chopped garlic, reduced the heat to medium, and cooked it for a minute or so, and then added the Swiss Chard leaves and 1 teaspoon of hot red pepper flakes.  I covered the pan for 5 minutes to steam the greens a bit.  (Lower the heat if it looks as if everything is cooking too quickly.) When the greens were tender, I scooped them out, added them to the pan with the beans and ½  cup chopped mint and basil, and cooked everything for 3-4 minutes longer. 

It tasted like Autumn in Rome to me!

The first time I made this, it was for a crowd, and we had lots of leftover.  The next day we ate it at room temperature for lunch with a spoonful of Greek yogurt.




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