By Joel Salatin • Photographs by Molly McDonald Peterson

© Molly McDonald Peterson

Because high-quality local food often carries a higher price tag than food generated by the industrial system, the charge of elitism coming from industrial foodists is often vitriolic, and embarrassed foodies agonize over the label. For all their positive energy surrounding food, I’ve found latent guilt among this group—guilt for paying more for local food when others are starving, guilt for caring about taste when others would happily eat anything. Instead of cowering in self-guilt, let’s confront the issue of prices head on.

Why It’s Worth It

First, it’s better food. It tastes better. It handles better. And it’s safer: Anyone buying chemicalized, drug-infused food is engaging in risky behavior.

It’s also nutritionally superior. For those willing to see, scientific data shows fresh foods’ conjugated linoleic acid, vitamins, minerals, brix readings, omega 3–omega 6 ratios, and polyunsaturated fat profiles are empirically superior.

Better stuff is worth more.

Second, economies of scale will continue to progress as more people patronize local food, which will bring prices down. The collaborative aggregation and distribution networks that have been fine-tuned by mega-food companies can and will be duplicated locally as volume increases and regional food systems get more creative.

Third, eating unprocessed foods is the best way to bring down your grocery bill, regardless of where the food originated. A 10-pound bag of potatoes costs the same as a 1-pound bag of potato chips. Cultivating domestic culinary arts and actually reinhabiting our kitchens—which we’ve remodeled and gadgetized at great cost—can wean all of us away from expensive processed food. A whole pound of our farm’s grass-finished ground beef, which can feed four adults, costs about the same as a Happy Meal. (And guess which one is more healthful?)

Fourth, non-scalable government regulations—which are designed to protect eaters from the dangers inherent in the industrial food complex but are not relevant in a transparent, regional food system—inordinately discriminate against smaller processing businesses like abattoirs, kitchens, and canneries, because the costs of complying with the (inappropriate) paperwork and infrastructure requirements cannot be spread out over a large volume of product. These regulations lead to price prejudice at the community-based scale: Small processors are at a disadvantage because they must pass those costs on to consumers, making their products more expensive than the mass-produced ones. These burdensome regulations also discourage entrepreneurs from entering local food commerce.

Fifth, unlike huge, single-crop or single-animal farms, diversified farms like ours do not receive government subsidies. Nor do the production, processing, and marketing of our food create collateral damage like that caused by factory farming—damage left for taxpayers to fix. Subsidies and government clean-up measures are not included in the price you pay for processed food at the grocery store, but if they were, local food would not seem so expensive in comparison.

Consider the Rhode Island–sized area in the Gulf of Mexico now known as a “dead zone” because nothing can survive in the oxygen-starved water, a result of manure and pesticide runoff. Who pays for the clean up and the reversal efforts? Who pays to address antibiotic-resistant strains of bacteria like MRSA, caused by the overuse of antibiotics in CAFOs (concentrated animal feeding operations)? Who pays to treat people with Type II diabetes, which they get from consuming processed food that is sold cheaply because the corporations making it have received subsidies? Who pays to clean up stinky rural neighborhoods with densely populated poultry and livestock compounds? And what is the value of the land irreversibly damaged by bad farming practices?

Sixth—and this is where I wanted to head with this discussion—plenty of money already exists in our economic system to pay for good food. Can you think of anything people buy that they don’t need? Tobacco products, $100 designer jeans with holes already in the knees, KFC, soft drinks made with high fructose corn syrup, Disney vacations, large-screen TVs, jarred baby food? America spends more on veterinary care for pets than the entire continent of Africa spends on medical care for humans.

I won’t belabor the point, but if you took all the money people spend on unnecessary baubles and junk food, it would be enough for everyone to eat like kings. We could all be elitists.

With that money, we could create a suburb of Lake Wobegon, where all the people eat food that is above average. Almost everyone I know who owns a community supported agriculture (CSA) share could afford to purchase an extra one for an impoverished family. And if you had to give up a few $4 lattes to do it? What a pity.

Spare Change?

This winter, the Front Range Permaculture Institute invited me to come to Fort Collins, Colorado, and give a speech at a fundraising event. They filled a huge community theater with people, and ticket sales were enough to pay my travel and honorarium—with enough left over to buy 40 CSA shares for poor families in their community. What a wonderfully empowering local effort. (They didn’t wait for a government program.) Perhaps nothing would reduce perceptions of elitism faster than foodies buying CSA shares for impoverished families.

At the risk of sounding uncharitable, I think we need to quit being victims and bring about change ourselves. Don’t complain about being unable to afford high-quality local food when your grocery cart is full of beer, cigarettes, and People magazine. Most people are more connected to the celebrities in People than the food that will become flesh of their flesh and bone of their bones at the next meal.

The other day I saw precooked bacon in a box at the supermarket—for $30 a pound. Do we really have to buy precooked bacon? If you took the average shopping cart in the checkout line and tossed out all the processed food—everything with an ingredient you can’t pronounce, everything you can’t re-create in your kitchen, and everything that won’t rot—and substituted instead locally sourced, fresh items, you would be dollars ahead and immensely healthier.

We can all do better. If we can find money for movies, ski trips, and recreational cruises, surely we can find the money to purchase integrity food. The fact is that most of us scrounge together enough pennies to fund the passion of our hearts. If we would cultivate a passion for food like the one we’ve cultivated for clothes, cars, and entertainment, perhaps we would ultimately live healthier, happier lives.

Embracing Elitism

To suggest that advocating for such a change makes me an elitist is to disparage positive decision making and behavior. Indeed, if that’s elitism, I want it. The victim mentality our culture encourages actually induces guilt among people making progress. That’s crazy. We should applaud positive behavior and encourage others to follow suit, not demonize and discourage it. Would it be better to applaud people who buy amalgamated, reconstituted, fumigated, irradiated, genetically modified industrial garbage?

The charge of elitism is both unfair and silly. We foodies are cultural change agents, positive innovators, integrity seekers. So hold your head high and don’t apologize for making noble decisions.

Internationally acclaimed farmer, conference speaker, and author Joel Salatin and his family operate Polyface Farms in Augusta County near Staunton, Virginia, producing and direct marketing “salad bar” beef, “pigaerator” pork, and pastured poultry. He is also co-owner of T&E Meats in Harrisonburg.

By Jennifer Conrad Seidel • Photos by Molly McDonald Peterson

© Molly McDonald Peterson

The magazine in your hands is part of a national movement seeking to establish regional food systems that are sustainable environmentally as well as economically, where new ways of making food flourish alongside new ways of making money. In short, this movement wants to create a vibrant alternative to the industrial food system.

For this movement to grow, it needs local-food advocates and financial advisors to devise alternatives to the typical financing structures that promote quick growth and a fast buck.

Rumors of Change

As editor of Flavor, I’ve talked with those who have owned foodrelated businesses for decades and others who have great ideas for businesses they’re trying to launch. One of their common frustrations is that most options for raising capital, such as smallbusiness loans and venture capital, aren’t the right fit for local food systems, whose goals are often modest and very long-term. They have to be very creative in raising capital, or they have to go without.

For example, the nonprofit Local Food Hub near Charlottesville, Virginia, initially sought some capital from Albemarle County’s economic development fund, since the local economy stood to gain from increased agricultural production and sales. Its request was rejected: County supervisors felt the hub was really a high-risk venture capital project. At the eleventh hour the hub found other financing—a combination of government funds (from the Nelson County Economic Development Authority), grants (from the Blue Moon Fund and the Bama Works Fund), and private donations from individuals including author John Grisham and Dave Matthews Band manager Coran Capshaw.

This quandary is increasingly common as the demand for local food grows and entrepreneurs try to meet it. We at Flavor have faced this issue ourselves, since we are a for-profit publication with a social mission and are unwilling to compromise our principles to maximize earnings. So when we heard about a new organization conceived specifically to address the financing needs of the local food movement, I picked up the phone and called the man leading the charge, Woody Tasch.

Slowing Down

Taking a cue from the international Slow Food movement, which seeks to reclaim the simple pleasures of cooking and eating that are being lost in our fast-food culture, Tasch coined the term Slow Money. In 2009, he published a book entitled Inquiries into the Nature of Slow Money: Investing As If Food, Farms, and Fertility Mattered.

Tasch is as experienced with financing sustainable agriculture as one can be in this relatively young movement. For more than 30 years, he has been involved with organizations and companies that manage capital for socially oriented projects and businesses. Until recently, he was CEO of Investors’ Circle, which has facilitated the investment of $130 million of so-called patient capital in over 200 “entrepreneurial companies that enhance bioregional, cultural and economic health and diversity” since 1992.

He has also worked for, chaired, and consulted with dozens of companies, organizations, and NGOs. Notably, he was treasurer of the Jessie Smith Noyes Foundation, which made a substantial investment in Stonyfield Farm, now the largest producer of organic yogurt. In 2008, he founded the Slow Money Alliance, a 501(c)(3) of which he is chairman and president.

Facilitating a National Discussion

Unlike his other ventures, the Slow Money Alliance is not raisingcapital or distributing grants. Instead, it is facilitating a national discussion that Tasch hopes will lead to the creation of new investment models. The alliance is an advocate, a catalyst.

“It’s about creating social capital,” explained Tasch. “It’s about making investors and individuals aware that it’s important for them to put some of their money to work in local food systems.”

The alliance’s goal is to see a million investors investing 1 percent of their assets in local food systems in the next decade.

Slow Money groups are springing up across the country. The alliance is still in its early stages, so these are brainstorming sessions. Localities are looking to address their own needs, not solve national problems. Yet it is clear that the same issues are being faced nationwide: Everybody needs local processing and distribution. Everyone is struggling with land preservation. Restaurants looking to buy ingredients locally are opening everywhere.

“That’s why having some national infrastructure in place can be catalytic,” said Tasch.

A Food-First Profit Model

The alliance sees itself as part of a grassroots movement in which the needs of the food system determine the investment structures being proposed, not the other way around.

“We’re starting where the energy is, rather than where the big money is. People who are ready to do this already recognize the importance of it. They are willing to spend some time and energy on the invention process.” Once the investment models are in place, Tasch expects that the money will be there, saying, “There’s a lot of pent-up demand.”

Tasch distinguishes two ways of investing. On the one hand, we can allow financial practices to determine our agricultural practices. This is the profit-first model, which usually promotes unsustainable farming practices that depend on fossil fuels and agribusiness technology to squeeze more yield and more money out of the land. On the other hand, we can allow our agricultural principles to influence our financial practices. Call this the food-first model, which puts money toward a sustainable growth that acknowledges limits and seeks to benefit not just a few distant investors but the many people working and living in a local foodshed. At present, almost all of our investments in agriculture follow the former model, not the latter. So far, local food innovation has outpaced local finance innovation.

Building New Models

Traditional financing instruments are not always applicable to developing food systems. As Tasch explained, it is difficult to invest in small food enterprises: “They’re for-profit, so they’re not good candidates for philanthropy, and they’re way too small for venture capital or traditional small-business thinking. You have to approach it with an integrated mindset that recognizes these are for-profit businesses and that also understands the centrality of local food systems and small food enterprises in preserving soil fertility and creating healthy food.”

Tasch stressed the importance of the local food network as much as the individual businesses in that network. But the prevailing financial models—for stand-alone small businesses, for nonprofit organizations, for promising high-yield companies—offer no clear way to invest in such a network or to even recognize it as something worth investing in.

One structure proposed has been dubbed “slow munis”— municipal bonds that deploy funds to a portfolio of small food enterprises in a local food system. Bonds would be available starting at small denominations, perhaps $1,000, and bondholders would be able to see their money at work in their communities, much like bonds sold to build schools. The slow muni model still needs to be designed and tested in a municipality: Funds will have to be raised and invested, and it isn’t clear yet how long it would take to determine whether the experiment had succeeded in one place and could be reproduced elsewhere.

Another approach looks to create a national pool of capital to supplement what is raised on a local level. According to Tasch, this modest fund, which may start at $5 to $10 million, would be capitalized by a limited number of very large investors—either foundations or very high net worth individuals. It would be used to co-invest with members of the Slow Money Alliance who want to buy farms in their region, thus preserving farmland and getting the next generation of sustainable farmers started. “Right now I would say we’re in exploratory discussion phase,” said Tasch, “looking at how we could deploy a small fund like this in a very high impact way and capitalize the flow from hundreds or thousands of small investors around the country to scores or hundreds of organic farms.”

A New Neighborliness

Most business owners face the challenge of raising capital and providing a return to investors without compromising their independence or, in this case, their focus on a progressive, local mission. Rooted in the community and focused on issues like humane treatment of animals, they may fear losing control of the company.

Investors involved with Slow Money understand these values and are not out to make a killing, assured Tasch. “We want to prioritize social and environmental impact and allow financial return to arise organically out of that process. We don’t want to force enterprises to change because of the way that the capital was provided or because of the expectations of the provider of capital. We want to be organized around the needs and the independence and the mission of the enterprise.”

Local Versus National?

Although he is a champion of small, hyperlocal enterprises, Tasch welcomes to the table sustainable businesses that function nationally. “Even though the aspiration is local—meaning we’re trying to get more money focused locally—we all recognize there’s no such thing as 100 percent local. There is always a balance between local and non-local. Non-local can be regional, it can be national, or it can be fair-trade.”

He points to Organic Valley, a national company that happens to be a co-op, so its profits benefit many small communities. “It’s a $500 or $600 million business owned by 1,300 or 1,400 organic farmers. It’s bringing product to millions of consumers. So is that national or local? It’s both. And it’s a very important connector.”

Bigger Than a Bread Box

The global economy demands larger, faster, more. Tasch’s mantra is slow, small, and local. “You don’t have to say everything in the world has to be slow, small, and local in order to invest in slow, small, and local. You just have to believe that we need more balance,” counseled Tasch. “It’s incontrovertible that we’re severely imbalanced and are heading toward an even greater imbalance, at our peril, in both the food system and the financial markets as a whole. We need to get to a place where it’s not either-or.”

For Tasch, the concept of regional solves the dilemma. But how big is a region? “It’s bigger than a bread box and smaller than a multinational,” he answered. There’s plenty of room within a region for enterprises of all sizes that reduce food miles and have more transparency for the investor.

Weighing the Risks

In a recent interview, Tasch was asked about the risks involved in what he’s proposing. “Someone asked me, ‘How are you going to get investors to do this? It’s awfully risky.’ I said, ‘Don’t you think it’s scary or risky to have your money in China?’”

The Slow Money Alliance may seem poised to take advantage of wary, post-financial-collapse investors, those newly suspicious of companies conflating size and financial security. But Tasch does not guarantee the success or sustainability of enterprises just because they’re small and local. “Most small businesses fail. Most start-ups fail. That’s just the nature of the beast. It’s very hard to start a business. It’s hard to be a farmer. It’s hard to start a local processing facility. It’s hard to grow a CSA.” Investments are risky, but risk is not unique to small, food-related businesses.

He points again to Organic Valley, which may be the biggest, longest-running illustration that taking risks on local food can pay off. According to Tasch, the investors who have been lending money to Organic Valley have been earning 6 percent for 15 or 20 years. “When the co-op started, every traditional investor said, ‘That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s all the risks of a small business and none of the upside.’ But think about how cool 6 percent a year looks on money that’s supporting a network of growers working together to create a national organic brand for what they produce.”

Not Hard to See

The way Americans view their food is changing, slowly. Despite bestselling books, celebrity chefs, and White House residents touting the value of knowing your farmer, local food still accounts for an almost negligible percent of food consumed nationally. Tasch is not looking for a food-system apocalypse. Instead, he is organizing for slow, steady change.

“I would call it a rebalancing rather than a collapse and rebuilding,” he said. “You don’t have to believe the whole industrial food system is going to collapse in order to believe that it’s worthwhile to invest in its rebalancing.”

It is our hope that our foodshed, with the nation’s capital at its center, can play a prominent role in this rebalancing.

Slow Money Alliance
www.slowmoneyalliance.org
No Slow Money groups have been started in the
Capital Foodshed—yet.

Jennifer Conrad Seidel is the editor of Flavor.

By Jim Law • Photographs by Molly McDonald Peterson

© Molly McDonald Peterson

There is more acreage of Chardonnay in Virginia than of any other variety, and this reflects a national trend: Chardonnay is the most widely sold variety in the U.S. Arguably, it makes some of the most complex and age-worthy white wines in the world and receives the highest prices. Then why is it Virginia’s wallflower wine?

As with so many varietals that have become popular in the marketplace, Chardonnay has been associated with cheap, massproduced versions. Most Americans are not aware that white Burgundies are made from Chardonnay grapes. This region is the origin and apex of what great Chardonnay can be. Over many centuries, Burgundians have learned which parcels (terroir) consistently produce their greatest wines.

The Vine

A relatively easy-to-grow and very adaptable vine, Chardonnay thrives in both cool and hot climates and is happy in many different soils. This adaptability has made Chardonnay ubiquitous. Almost every emerging winegrowing region includes a Chardonnay in its stable.

The majority of old vineyards in Virginia are Chardonnay. Linden’s oldest planting is 26 years old, and there are others in the state that are even older. We are still fine-tuning our Chardonnay vineyards, and we’ve found that cooler sites at higher elevations seem to give the most character.

Over the past decade, the trend internationally has been toward planting the French Dijon Chardonnay clones. These vines have small clusters, which can be good for quality but often lack acidity in warmer vintages. At Linden we are now experimenting with some of the Wente (California) clones that retain more natural acidity.

The Cellar

Chardonnay is often referred to as the winemaker’s grape. It has a subtle aroma and flavor profile but can possess alluring textures often combined with great acidity. It is a wine that can be easily and successfully manipulated in the right hands: Native yeast fermentation, cool stainless-steel fermentation, warm oak fermentation, lees aging, malolactic fermentation, and oxidative or reductive winemaking are all acceptable techniques.

The Styles

Chardonnay’s regional adaptability in the vineyard and malleability in the cellar result in a myriad of styles that often confuse the public. Most Americans first got acquainted with lowcost California or Australian Chardonnay

Unfortunately, that sweet, low-acid, oak-infused hedonistic style has become the standard bearer.

I like to categorize three general styles of Chardonnay:

Hedonistic. This is a style that California does well and Virginia struggles with. These are the blowsy, blockbuster wines that pile on most of the cellar techniques available. They have lots of oak and alcohol and are soft and buttery from malolactic fermentations and lees contact. These get your attention immediately—like Mae West or Marilyn Monroe—but can eventually become tiresome due to their monolithic profile and weight. Wine judges, who only spend a few minutes with each wine, are impressed and often award these wines gold medals.

This style requires very ripe, concentrated grapes, which is difficult to consistently achieve in Virginia’s climate. In the bad old days, Virginia winemakers attempted this style using grapes more appropriate for the refreshing style (below). The result reminded me of a naturally pretty teenage girl experimenting unsuccessfully with makeup.

Refreshing. This is what Virginia does very well: pretty, fruitdriven aromas with low to moderate alcohols, fresh acidity, and little or no oak. These are wines that everyone is comfortable with—like the girl next door, to continue the metaphor. Because these are usually made from higher-yielding vineyards and simple winemaking, they are attractively priced. In wine competitions, they are often awarded silver medals, as they do what wine is supposed to do: refresh the palate and delight the nose. These are great food wines, especially with lighter summer fare.

Terroir. This is the holy grail of serious Chardonnay producers. In Burgundy, Chardonnay is seen as the vehicle for expressing a specific site’s characteristic or terroir. This style has a concentration from the sap of the vine and the minerality of the soil. These wines are shy at first but then evolve and develop in the glass. They are “come hither” wines.

This style of Chardonnay requires age—vine age, winegrower age, wine age, and consumer age. Vines need to be in the ground for some time before they can fully express terroir. I find that when a vine’s age reaches double digits, the resulting wines are more interesting. A winegrower also needs to age with these vines to understand the nuances of the site and the personality of the vineyard. Wines made in a terroir-driven style need bottle age, too, as they are typically closed, tight, and often reduced when young.

These are wines of contemplation. They are not cocktail wines. Consumers need to give them their full attention and to observe the wines as they evolve and change over the course of a meal. It is for this reason that these wines are overlooked in wine competitions. These are the Meryl Streeps and Cate Blanchetts of Chardonnay—complex, reserved, intellectual, and long-lived. Virginia has the potential to make great terroir-driven Chardonnays, but these wines require a fanatical dedication to the vineyard that can only come with focus and time.

Winemaker Jim Law is the owner and winegrower of Linden Vineyards in Fauquier County.

By Marian Burros • Photos by Molly McDonald Peterson

© Molly McDonald Peterson

As Koch tells it, “As the sun went down, there was a big field of goldenrod and a layer of fireflies that looked like the Milky Way, and FireFly Farms seemed appropriate.”

From one mild fresh goat cheese, Allegheny Chèvre, the business has grown to nine, including some very complex, aged varieties that would interest any serious artisanal cheese aficionado.

From Big City to Blue Ribbon

Koch and Solanet are both from farming families, and Koch remembers making cheese with his grandmother when he was six. His great-great-grandfather was a cheesemaker in Switzerland.

Like so many young people who are going back to the land, Koch and Solanet bring big-city experience with them. Koch continues to work in housing finance. Solanet, a graduate of L’Acadamie de Cuisine and a chef, wanted to move out to the country but continue to work with food. The next thing they knew, Solanet was making cheese.

“A local man had some goats left over from a project, and we convinced him we wanted to make cheese,” said Koch. “We were doing it for ourselves. And the first year FireFly Farms was officially in business, Pablo won a blue ribbon from the American Cheese Society for a goat’s-milk blue.”

Koch doesn’t find it so surprising. “Pablo is a brilliant chef and I took quite a bit of chemistry. Between the two of us, it was an effective combination.” Nevertheless, their success has been hard won.

By Guess & By Golly

“You don’t know what you don’t know,” he said. “We did it by guess and by golly because it was sort of a dream. We made a lot of mistakes.”

They sought advice from fellow cheesemakers. In 2001, both attended a weeklong course in cheese technology at the University of Wisconsin. Two years later, they hired Matt Cedro as cheesemaker; he went on to graduate from an artisanal cheese program at the University of Vermont in 2004.

On their way to profitability, they threw out whole batches of cheese. They almost ran out of money many times, but they persisted. In 2006, they went into the black with a repertoire of nine different cheeses—some of which are exceptional.

“We didn’t want to just copy someone else,” Koch said. “The cheeses are rooted in tradition but altogether different.”

What Recession?

A lot has changed since the fireflies floated over the goldenrod: The goats are gone—too much work to raise and milk them. FireFly Farms now buys its milk from three small Amish family farmers who farm organically but are not certified.

The business managed to survive the recession—because of the enormous interest in artisanal cheese, Koch believes—and is even expanding. Today Solanet devotes himself to marketing while Koch is president and chief financial officer of the company.

With a Small Business Administration loan, they are opening a new plant next year where they can produce 16,000 to 20,000 pounds a month—four times more than they do now. They already sell to local cheese shops in D.C., Virginia, and Maryland, including Cowgirl Creamery and La Fromagerie; to Whole Foods in four states and the district; to a few wineries; to Mom’s Organic Markets; and at 13 farmers markets.

Ready for Raw?

Koch and Solanet want to make and sell raw-milk cheese, and the state of Maryland is now conducting a raw-milk cheese pilot in order to see whether it will allow the use of unpasteurized milk.

The couple is also talking about experimenting with cow-goat milk cheeses while remaining one of the only maybe half a dozen or fewer cheesemakers countrywide who make goat’s-milk blue cheeses. They see themselves as pioneers in their little corner of Maryland, which they want to become a hub of artisanal cheesemakers. The whole state of Maryland has only four goat’s-milk cheesemakers now.

That doesn’t mean, however, they want FireFly Farms to become a national brand.

“We do not really want to go all over the country,” said Koch. “The idea of putting my goat cheese in California and using all that jet fuel seems to me to be silly. I’m all about place, and we can make a living at it. Pablo and I are committed to small, sustainable agriculture. We want to be a well-known regional brand.”

FireFly Farms
Garrett County, MD
The farm is not open to the public.
(301) 245-4630
www.fireflyfarms.com

Marian Burros was on staff at The New York Times for 27 years and still writes for them. She has lived in the Washington area since 1959, and at one time or other, she worked for The Washington Post and the late, lamented Washington Star and Washington Daily News. She was also a consumer reporter for D.C.’s WRC-TV. The author of 13 cookbooks, she has been writing about small farms and the pleasures of local food since the 1980s.

SOME TASTING NOTES
Easy to enjoy, none of FireFly Farms’ cheeses would be described as intense.

Merry Goat Round: Goat’s milk brie, creamy.

Mountain Top Bleu: Pyramid with blue veining and white-bloomed rind. Delicate and creamy.

Buche Noire: Ash-covered, creamy.

Black & Blue: Sweet and sharp, creamy blue-veined with black-wax rind. A bit like sweet gorgonzola.

Bella Vita: Younger and milder than parmesan.

Allegheny Chèvre: Simple, fresh goat cheese.

By Bill Plante • Photographs by Molly McDonald Peterson

© Molly McDonald Peterson

Flavor publisher Melissa Harris hears this very question from both consumers and winemakers. “We convened this tasting panel,” she explains, “because we wanted to expose some of the area’s top sommeliers to what we believe are wines that would pair well with high-end food.” (For more from Harris, see page 10.)

Harris asked more than 20 Virginia winegrowers to send samples of their work—the best red and white wines for pairing with food—and then invited a panel of sommeliers to taste and evaluate the 63 wines that were submitted.

Five of the Capital foodshed’s most popular sommeliers made up the tasting panel: Derek Brown of The Passenger (D.C.), Scott Calvert of The Inn at Little Washington (Washington, Virginia), Gina Chersevani of PS 7’s (D.C.), Andy Myers of CityZen at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel (D.C.), and Todd Thrasher of Restaurant Eve (Alexandria, Virginia).

The tasting took place on a Monday morning in the spacious country kitchen in the Georgetown home of Beverly and John Fox Sullivan. Dozens of red wine bottles, sheathed in brown paper bags to completely obscure their labels, stood at attention on the sideboard. Dozens of whites waited in cartons out in the chilly garden.

Ten volunteer servers ringed the large round table in the Sullivans’ kitchen, pouring wines, changing stemware, and refilling glasses of water and plates of crackers to help clear the panel’s taste buds.

Blinded by the Flight

Sound like fun? Sure! But remember, this was a tasting. Swirl, smell, sip, savor, and spit 63 times while keeping it all straight in your notes. From start to finish, the tasting took four hours.

Each wine was given a number that identified its flight and glass. For example, “WB3” was a white wine in the third glass of the second flight. Several hundred white and red wine glasses were brought in from a catering company and tagged with these same codes. Then the panel was given forms with these same codes for recording their tasting notes. The results were not revealed to anyone—until now.

Sauvignon Blanc & Pinot Grigio

The tasting began with five wines made from Sauvignon Blanc or Pinot Grigio grapes. It was an auspicious beginning.

The clear winner was the Veritas 2008 Sauvignon Blanc. “Excellent fruit,” noted Calvert, adding “great acid in the middle and follows into the finish.” Thrasher noted “honey on the nose” and “mouth-filling.” There was a tie for second: The Glen Manor 2008 Sauvignon Blanc garnered “grapefruit, medium-dry” in Chersevani’s notes and “light regal characteristics” in Brown’s. Thrasher’s notes on the 2008 Barboursville Pinot Grigio included “orange blossom, dry, good acidity,” and Brown described it as “clean, tart, grassy.”

Chardonnay

Chardonnay, the next flight, spurred a debate around the table. (Should it be grown in Virginia’s hot, humid climate?) No consensus was reached on a clear winner, but four were highly praised. Brown liked the “lemon curd, cut apples” and oaky finish of the panel’s favorite, the Gadino 2007. According to Thrasher, the King Family 2008 was “rich in the nose,” which Calvert also said was “very lush and soft in back.”

Brown liked the Tarara 2008, too, describing it as “spicy and woody.” Calvert praised the Linden 2007, which tasted of apple, “a bit of cinnamon, a bit of mineral, too.”

Viognier

Viognier, the perfumed white grape of the Rhône Valley, was almost extinct a half-century ago. But it has since made a comeback, and it seems to do very well in Virginia. The panel sampled 13 different Viogniers and found some too high in alcohol, overripe, or funky on the nose. But Viognier’s unmistakable tropical-fruit, peach, and apricot lushness brightened many of the other samples.

With no wine clearly in the top spot, Chersevani noted the “stone fruit” of the Rappahannock 2008 Noblesse, Brown noted the “floral characteristics” of the DelFosse 2007, Calvert noted the “peach” and “wood spice” of the Chester Gap 2008 Boisseau, and Thrasher noted the “sweet finish” of the Sugarleaf 2008.

Cabernet Franc

Two hours in, the tasters and their tired palates took a much-needed break for a buffet lunch. Then they went back to work on three flights of red wines.

First up was Cabernet Franc, generally regarded as Virginia’s most successful red grape. In Bordeaux, it’s generally blended with Cabernet Sauvignon. But in the Loire, Cab Franc shows off as a lighter-weight wine with delicious dark fruit, the same result it can produce in Virginia.

The crowd pleasers: the Rappahannock Cellars 2007, “light spice . . . medium bodied, quite tasty” (Brown); the Sunset Hills 2007 Reserve, “sweet blackberries, sage—a mouthful” (Chersevani); and the Veritas 2008, “ruby red, spicy, and sweet on the palate” (Thrasher).

Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot & Petit Verdot

In the next group, we tasted three classic red grapes—Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Petit Verdot, another Bordeaux blending grape particularly suited to the Virginia climate.

The Sugarleaf 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon edged out the other wines in this flight. Brown found it full of “black cherry juice” and “juicy on the palate.” Three more wines were close behind: Calvert remarked that the Gadino 2007 Petit Verdot was full of “spice, cardamom, clove” and that its palate “is sweet cassis.” The finish of the Chester Gap 2007 Merlot was “long-lasting [with] a bit of violet” in Thrasher’s notes. Brown tasted “cinnamon, vanilla, cherry, plum,” and a “peppery finish” in the Rausse 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon.

Meritage

By this flight, the winter sun had begun to abandon the garden beyond the kitchen, but the tasters’ perseverance was rewarded by the final flight of 15 Meritage wines. The term Meritage was coined by the California wine industry for wines blended in the Bordeaux style, using traditional Bordeaux grape varieties.

The Boxwood Winery 2007 Boxwood bottling won praise from Chersevani, who wrote simply, “Green peppercorns, wood. I like it.” (This was a leap beyond the usual wine descriptors.) Brown called it “full-bodied, luscious.” Chersevani also praised the Linden 2006 Hardscrabble Red, writing, “Cherry, tobacco. I like it.” Myers and Thrasher preferred this one as well. Thrasher described it as “woody and cedar notes, sweet in the mouth.” Thrasher also lauded the Delaplane 2007 Left Bank: “Comes together nicely.”

The Road Ahead

It’s important to note that over these four hours of intense focus and concentration, the tasting panel frequently disagreed. Take their comments as a guide, but trust your own palate. The more you taste, the more tuned in you’ll be to the nuances in the glass.

Our professionals all agreed that Virginia isn’t the easiest place to grow grapes and make wine. As Myers put it, “Jefferson gave up [on growing vines] a long time ago, and he was a very smart dude!”

But they also agreed that the Virginia wine industry, while still in its infancy, has made tremendous strides in recent years as growers figure out which varietals do best on which parcels of land. And these sommeliers expect Virginia wine to continue improving.

Harris, Flavor’s publisher, points out that some restaurants are fond of Virginia wines but find them too expensive. “Most wineries in this region are small, so they find it difficult to match the price of other wines on the restaurants’ lists.”

As diners committed to local food begin to request local wine, the industry will see increased sales in the district, says Harris. “People will pay more for a meal made with sustainably raised local ingredients. Our hope is that they do the same for locally made wine.”

Journalist Bill Plante is CBS’s senior White House correspondent. A 30-year resident of D.C., he is also a well-known wine aficionado.

The Tasting Panel

Derek Brown is a wine and spirits professional who has become a leading voice in the new cocktail renaissance. His latest project is a cocktail club and laboratory called the Columbia Room, inside his D.C. bar, The Passenger.

Having gained national recognition for her cocktail creations at D.C.’s Rasika and Arlington’s EatBar, Gina Chersevani is now the master mixologist behind the bar at D.C.’s PS 7’s.

Scott Calvert, former president of Tastevin, Inc., a consulting and wine wholesale firm in New York City, currently serves as the wine director for the world-famous Inn at Little Washington in Washington, Virginia.

After a four-year stint as the assistant sommelier, caviste, and captain at the Inn at Little Washington, Andy Myers became the head sommelier for CityZen, at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in D.C., in 2006.

Mix master Todd Thrasher currently serves as the general manager, sommelier, and liquid savant for Restaurant Eve. He is also a partner in PX in Alexandria, Virginia.

The Standouts

Whites
Sauvignon Blanc & Pinot Grigio
Veritas 2008 Sauvignon Blanc, $18.00
Glen Manor 2008 Sauvignon Blanc, $22.00
Barboursville 2008 Pinot Grigio, $14.99
Chardonnay
Gadino 2007 Chardonnay, $20.00
King Family 2008 Chardonnay, $19.95
Tarara 2008 Chardonnay, $30.00
Linden 2007 Chardonnay, $28.00
Viognier
Rappahannock 2008 Noblesse Viognier, $17.50
DelFosse 2007 Viognier, $25.00
Chester Gap 2008 Boisseau Viognier, $19.00
Sugarleaf 2008 Viognier, $27.00

Reds
Cabernet Franc
Rappahannock Cellars 2007 Cabernet Franc, $24.00
Sunset Hills 2007 Cabernet Franc Reserve, $40.00
Veritas 2008 Cabernet Franc, $18.00
Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot & Petit Verdot
Sugarleaf 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon, $30.00
Gadino 2007 Petit Verdot, $27.00
Chester Gap 2007 Merlot, $19.00
Rausse 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon, not yet released
Meritage (Bordeaux Blends)
Boxwood Winery 2007 Boxwood, $25.00
Linden 2006 Hardscrabble Red, $39.00
Delaplane 2007 Left Bank, $28.00

By Walter Nicholls • Photographs by Molly McDonald Peterson

© Molly McDonald Peterson

Just behind a sizable 145-year-old white clapboard farmhouse on a peaceful lane in Cismont, Virginia, there are paths through a maze-like garden of perennials, herbs, and hybrid willows that lead to a multifaceted world of mushroom cultivation, both indoors and out. What looks like a funky outbuilding turns out to be a sterile laboratory for producing vigorous spawn. Steps away along ivy-bordered paths in the open forest are 500 mostly chestnut and white oak logs on end, ready to “flush” with seven species of shiitake and oyster mushrooms when temperatures are right.

This is Sharondale Farm, Mark Jones’s expanding experiment in mushroom agriculture and the development of methods for introducing fungi into gardens alongside fruit trees, vegetables, flowers, and fiber plants. Pound by pound, those shiitakes and six other varieties, such as spiny lion’s mane, make their way to high-end restaurants 12 miles away in Charlottesville. But the interests of Jones, a self-proclaimed “science geek,” also include using fungi in farm waste management strategies and joining mushrooms with vegetable production for a profitable crop and for building healthy soil.

Relational Gardens

On a recent March morning in his garden, Jones talked about his farming goals, mushroom workshops, and love of the land while boiling chopped wheat straw in a 55-gallon kettle. After draining a batch in a battered feed trough, he inoculated the straw with blue oyster mushroom spawn mixed with rye grain and stuffed the works into tall, clear plastic bags. Holes poked in the sides will allow the mushrooms to later emerge.

“A garden is not just vegetables and perennials. It’s all kinds of energies working together. And when you add species such as mushrooms, you build a guild of functional relationships from one plant to another,” says the Virginia native who has had a lifelong fascination with this relatively fast-growing crop. “In addition to being delicious, fungi are integral to the ecosystem, and composting is the simplest way for you to use mushrooms on your property. They break down the waste carbon sources and create soil.” With one bag tossed over each shoulder, he heads for his new 1,440-square-foot, climate-controlled grow house. Over a three-week period, each bag will fruit with blue oysters for seven to ten days.

With degrees in both liberal arts and science, Jones says it was a college mycology class that sparked his enthusiasm for fungi. After finishing grad school at Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge, he moved to Oregon, where his trade was carpentry and his passion the development of useful landscapes. He moved back to his family’s Virginia homestead in the summer of 2004. Three years later, he sold his first commercial mushroom crop at the producer-only Charlottesville City Market.

Mushrooms 101

At Sharondale Farm, more than a dozen types of mushrooms are currently in cultivation—another 12 species are in the experimental stage—each growing on straw, compost, wood chips, or logs. The grains and cereal bran Jones uses in cultivation are organic, and the methods of cultivation are in accord with standards for organic production.

In spring and fall, the best time for cultivation, Jones conducts two- to three-hour mushroom workshops that cover plant biology, ecology in the garden, and hands-on cultivation skills. “For most students, the interest is growing shiitakes on logs. But I prefer to start people out on oyster mushrooms, also on logs. There’s less management involved,” he says. Jones also sells mushroom spawn and tools of the trade for log inoculation on his web site. Farm tours are available by appointment.

The Growing Season

When it comes to taste, Jones’s favorite is the almond portobello, which he calls “extraordinary for its nutty flavor.” His shiitake varieties have varying texture and flavor profiles. Those spiny lion’s manes, he says, “shred like crab meat and have a subtle flavor that’s easily enhanced with white wine and herbs.”

Restaurants, such as L’Etoile and The Local in Charlottesville, appreciate that Jones is right down the road. “He’s so passionate about mushrooms. And what’s really nice about his products is that they are so fresh, full of life, and moist,” says Dean Maupin, executive chef of the nearby award-winning Clifton Inn. “Mark turned me on to the lion’s mane,” Maupin adds.

For some lucky community supported agriculture (CSA) members in the area, beautiful mushrooms from Cismont are included in every share. “Mark’s mushrooms are not what you see every day in stores. People are excited about having diverse products in their share,” says Kathryn Bertoni, co-owner of Appalachia Star Farm in Roseland.

With his new grow house up and running, Jones hopes to increase production in the coming year “by an order of magnitude and then some. This means thousands of pounds of mushrooms, but I can’t give exact numbers,” he says.

Though a teacher, Jones is still a student of mycology, ever on the lookout for strains of edible wild mushrooms, always experimenting with new methods. And ready to sauté the results.

Mark Jones teaches classes at Richmond’s J. Sargeant Reynolds Community College, and he also conducts mushroom-growing workshops in spring and fall—the best times for cultivation. Here are some upcoming workshops. Information can be found online.

Growing Mushrooms at Home
An introduction to cultivating gourmet and medicinal mushrooms
April 3 at Sharondale Farm, Cismont

Got Mushroom?
Growing gourmet and medicinal mushrooms in urban and small spaces
April 17 at New Community Project, Harrisonburg

Sharondale Farm
Cismont, VA
(434) 296-3301
sharondalefarm.com

Walter Nicholls is a former staff reporter for the Washington Post. A native Washingtonian, he has written about farms, food markets, and restaurants for 21 years. He resides both in the Georgetown section of Washington and on an historic homestead in Rappahannock County, Virginia. Find him at walternicholls.com.

By Joel Salatin

The winter of 2009–2010 will go down in our mid-Atlantic record books as one to remember. Fender benders, shoveling, and bone-chilling cold. Here in the Shenandoah Valley, we had eight weeks of snow cover. What a treat to not have to go to Aspen this winter.

The people who study sunspot activity say this is the harbinger of the next five winters. Look out.

Stranded trucks on interstates, empty supermarket shelves—these events illustrated the stark modern reality that at any one time, only three days’ supply of food exists in a locality. That seems fragile to me.

Looking back from our spring vantage point, I think it behooves us to appreciate preparing, preserving, and stockpiling food as a wise activity. On our farm, as the inches of snow began to build, we had a deep sense of security and satisfaction. Here’s why.

The freezers were full of venison, beef, pork, chicken, turkey, and rabbit, all laid up from a bountiful 2009 production season. Even if the electricity had gone off, the cold would have kept things from defrosting fast—a week at least. Probably two. The woodpile, mounded up, offered plenty of thermal energy during the blizzard.

In the basement, hundreds of canning jars glistened, ready for use: sauerkraut, applesauce, pickles, green beans, yellow squash, beets, peaches, tomatoes, tomato juice, grape juice—a veritable cornucopia of abundance. In the root cellar, boxes of sweet potatoes, winter squash, and white potatoes lay ready for hearty winter feasts.

Honey harvested late in the season offered sweetness. Maple syrup boiled the previous spring ran low and eventually ran out just before a two-week warm snap in January, when the sap from our trees flowed freely again into buckets. Frozen strawberries gleaned from our neighbor’s abundant patch and blackberries picked painstakingly along the road added fruity zest to shortcake.

Our hands butchered, juiced, diced, sliced, pitted, and did all the other necessary steps to fill the larder for just such a time as this blizzard. And now, in the shock of a hard winter—payday. Emotional payday. Nutritional payday. Economic payday.

Every living thing prepares for winter. The spider spins a porous cocoon around a zillion carefully laid eggs. The bear and groundhog gorge and then sleep. (Sounds like a good plan to me.) Deer put on back fat, like a savings account, to be withdrawn as extra energy if the going gets tough. Squirrels scamper around, burying walnuts and hickory nuts all during October and September and moving from airy summer nests to cozy tree hollows.

Following nature’s example, farmers spend most of the season putting up provisions for winter—grain, hay, sawdust for bedding. This is natural and normal.

Who would not go through this ritual? Who would not stockpile for environmental or economic shocks? Only people completely disconnected from their ecological umbilical. It really is a narrow cord. For all our sophisticated computers, cars, and cell phones, we humans haven’t figured out how to survive without food and water. Biologically we’re no different from those Native Americans who romped these forests and fields, hanging venison and buffalo in their smoky habitations to dry and stockpile for a hard winter.

Only proud, arrogant, unthinking people assume that the supermarket will always be there, that the car will always get through. Perhaps if many more people realize our vulnerabilities to shocks and stockpile local food against the next hard winter, this season will have taught them a valuable lesson. The food our family enjoyed this hard winter did not come with extensive ingredient lists. If left on a table, it would rot—which also means it will digest properly. It was just like the food people ate before 1900. It was the stuff our great-grandparents ate in hard winters.

Indeed, appreciating that we’re all still completely dependent on this little orb floating through space is both humbling and challenging. The memory of this past winter should drive us all to the kitchen this coming harvest season. It should drive us all to the food treasures in our communities, where we patronize seasonal abundance and enjoy its security during a hard winter. The ultimate food security is growing in the fields and pastures in our neighborhood and the stockpile lying, precious, in our pantries, root cellars, and freezers.

If we all devoted ourselves to this natural, heritage-based mind-set, a hard winter would drive us to gratitude, neighborliness, and deep satisfaction. That is the blessing of community.

Internationally acclaimed conference speaker and author Joel Salatin and his family operate Polyface Farms in Augusta County near Staunton, Virginia, producing and direct marketing “salad bar” beef, “pigaerator” pork, and pastured poultry. He is now also co-owner, with Joe Cloud, of T&E Meats in Harrisonburg.

By Marian Burros

Until last spring, phrases like “sustainable agriculture,” “local food,” and “mobile slaughterhouses” were only whispered in the halls of the Department of Agriculture, the agency where industrial agriculture and biotechnology reigned supreme.

Then Kathleen Merrigan—a 50-year-old assistant professor at Tufts University who had been teaching agricultural policy for the previous eight years—became the deputy secretary.

No Warm Welcome

Also a veteran politician and policy wonk, Merrigan began an arduous task: to make the agency rethink its role. By September, Merrigan (second in command to Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack) introduced an initiative to rebuild the once-thriving local and regional food systems that can produce ecologically and socially responsible food, an idea to which the agency had hardly given the time of day.

Merrigan named it “Know Your Farmer, Know Your Food.” The program, which is aimed at local farmers and sustainable agriculture, farmers markets, and value-added-products, suddenly has agribusiness worried.
The chairman of the Iowa Corn Production Board, Tim Burrack, said modern agriculture is coming under attack and what he heard at the agency’s annual outlook conference in February “is radically different from what has taken place in the first 36 years of my career.” To Merrigan, he said, “This is not the USDA that people in the Midwest are familiar with.”

Unsaid was that Burrack didn’t like what he was hearing—perhaps because he’s worried that the subsidies his farm has been receiving from USDA, $1.1 million since 1995, might stop.

Merrigan’s response to him is the one she gives to all sides: “Well, you know, the USDA is a big place and there’s room in the tent for everyone.”

A New Agenda

What Merrigan is doing—with relatively small amounts of money from the 2008 farm bill, much smaller than the budget for industrial agriculture and biotechnology—is making the agency pay attention to both the little guy and the midsize farmer. She has found that the department is filled with people who want to work on projects to help them. “There are people coming out of their doors from the bowels of the bureaucracy saying, ‘Thank you. I’ve been wanting to work on this for years. I’ve never had this kind of work sanctioned.’ ”

When she got to the agency last spring, none of the money set aside in the 2009 budget for local food had been used. She recounted her exchanges with others at USDA: “ ‘How much money has gone into local food?’ Answer: ‘None yet.’ It takes a bureaucracy a long time to understand and embrace new imperatives unless you have someone pushing. So I came and I pushed. I asked, ‘What are you doing creatively to implement the law?’ ” And then she offered some more ideas.

Merrigan imagines more mobile slaughterhouses to serve small farmers who have no access to processing their animals and more medium-sized farms that can supply seasonal produce to 2,000 CSA (community supported agriculture) members, each paying $500. She imagines finding ways to make it easier for farms to sell to schools and having an organic program in which organic standards are strictly enforced.

As she wrote in an August 2009 memo, “I suspect that many USDA programs are under-utilized by those seeking to build local and regional food systems. I would like to play the role of match-maker during this Administration. By this, I mean I will work to help USDA program administrators to understand how our programs may better serve your efforts to build local and regional food systems as well as highlight for you USDA programs that present great opportunity for the work that you do.”

While her many supporters think she should have a lot more money to accomplish her goals, she thinks she can accomplish a lot with what she’s got. Asked if she is satisfied with her slice of the 2011 agriculture budget for which she is responsible, she said, “Yes.”

Merrigan always knows when to elaborate and when to be politic.

No Sellout

Her talent for navigating Washington is the trait Dan Barber, visionary owner-chef of Blue Hill at Stone Barns outside New York City, admires most in her. “I think she is the smartest woman I know,” he said. “What’s so intriguing about her is her remarkable ability to be political and still have a strong set of values. Throughout her career, she has been able to further the principles of real sustainability without being a sellout. It takes a lot of political savvy to pull the right levers.”

Merrigan has spent years learning the art of politics and knows everyone. She worked for Senator Patrick Leahy when he was chairman of the Senate Agriculture Committee. She was the power behind the federal organic standards, managing to get them passed without harmful amendments.

Her last job in Washington was as the administrator of the Agriculture Marketing Service in the Clinton administration. When she came back to Washington after the 2008 election to lobby for a job in the Obama administration, it was not for anything as high level as deputy secretary. But many of her politically powerful friends lobbied for something much loftier. “I did not expect this job,” she said.

Fighting for the Underdog

She’s making the most of it to help the little guy, the person she has always looked out for. “I was always the kid standing up for other kids,” she said. “My parents wanted to be very inclusive, not to be judgmental. My daily mantra with my kids: Be kind.”

Her 12-hour days take her out of the house before her children are up. But her husband, a law school professor, makes it possible. “I don’t have to make difficult choices because he’s a great father and really great cook, and he picks up the slack,” she said as she sat in her spacious high-ceilinged office around the corner from Secretary Vilsack’s.
Ferd Hoefner, policy director of the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition, said Merrigan is off to a good start. But, he added, “All of this will be a drop in the bucket if the overall policy context doesn’t shift. To make a lasting impression, it has to be institutionalized.”

Merrigan has no illusions. So far she gives her performance a B. (“I was always a tough grader,” she said.) She feels she will have accomplished what she set out to do at the end of four years “if organic agriculture is in a stronger place within this bureaucracy, if local and regional [food systems] are working well, if I can help small farm operations grow so they can supply more of their income, and if I can help family farmers survive.”

“My aspirations are so great,” she said, “I won’t give myself an A-plus until ‘Know Your Farmer, Know Your Food’ is having a major impact.”

Marian Burros was on staff at The New York Times for 27 years and still writes for them. She has lived in the Washington area since 1959, and at one time or other, she worked for The Washington Post and the late, lamented Washington Star and Washington Daily News. She was also a consumer reporter for D.C.’s WRC-TV. The author of 13 cookbooks, she has been writing about small farms and the pleasures of local food since the 1980s.

By Jennifer Conrad Seidel • Photos by Molly McDonald Peterson

The wine industry in Virginia is growing. Even in 2009, when we were spending our grocery and entertainment dollars more carefully, the sales of Virginia wine rose more than 7 percent—to almost 400,000 cases.

That is great news, indeed. But as new wineries open and existing ones grow, the industry faces a new challenge: finding a qualified workforce.

Virginia Is for Winemakers

In 2004, administrators from the Workforce Services Program at Piedmont Virginia Community College in Charlottesville collaborated with winemakers and vineyard owners in and around the Monticello Wine Trail to develop plans for what is now two complementary certificate programs: one in viticulture (vineyard management) and one in enology (winemaking). By February 2006, the program had graduated its first class of 15.

The program is built on one-day seminars, usually held on Saturdays so that those with full-time jobs can enroll. Taught by winemakers, vineyard managers, winery owners, and business consultants, classes are held at local vineyards. The training is hands-on, not book-based, and topics include everything from blending to marketing, grafting to pruning, tasting to harvesting.

Seminars are offered year-round, and the 10 classes required for each certificate are offered each calendar year, so someone could get through the program quickly. Students are not obligated to complete a certificate, however. Among the approximately 400 students who came through the program in 2009 were hobbyists taking a single class, curious connoisseurs taking tasting classes, and career-focused students determined to complete the whole certificate program.

Recess All the Time

Classes are held in the field as the seasons allow. In fact, many classes could not be held anywhere else. A class on blending and another on winery design and equipment are held in winter, when fieldwork is slow. Soil prep and planting are taught in the spring, as is dormant pruning. Summer brings classes on canopy management and pest control. Come fall, students lean about harvesting and bottling.

A few classes stretch over both semesters. The custom crush class starts in the fall just before harvest and concludes with bottling in the early summer. What is the literal fruit of such “studying”? Each student brings home four cases of wine. In another two-semester class—vineyard management—students “adopt a row of vines” for a year at DuCard Vineyard in Madison County, where owner Scott Elliff trains them in pruning, thinning, dropping fruit, and overall decision making.

A few restaurants have also participated in the program. The sommelier at C&O, on Charlottesville’s pedestrian mall, taught a three-session class on pairing wine and food. Siips, a few blocks away, was the venue for a series of weeknight tasting classes focusing on different wine regions across the globe. The Lafayette Inn in Stanardsville hosted a class on home winemaking.

Meet Your Classmates

On a sunny Saturday in March, a dozen people gathered at First Colony Winery for a wine marketing seminar taught by Neil Williamson of The Trellis Group. The class included a panel discussion with Martha Soden, general manager of First Colony; Sarah Gorman, business manager of Cardinal Point Vineyard and Winery; and Jim Turpin, founder of Democracy Vineyards and a graduate of the PVCC program.

The students present were at different points in their careers—some more likely to own a vineyard than work for one. Recent Virginia Tech graduate Maya Hood White studied theoretical math and physics, but now she finds herself irresistibly drawn to the chemistry of winemaking. Carole Keathley already has a career in marketing, but she is looking to make a lateral move into marketing for Virginia wineries, marrying her training and her love of local wine. After retiring from an international Fortune 100 company, Chas Lawrence is ready to pursue his dream of growing and making wine.

The Dream

It’s hard to believe that a young graduate with a degree in math and physics would turn down a job offer from Northrop Grumman in this economy to pursue a career in winemaking. “I was always interested in wine but thought it was unapproachable. I wondered, ‘Who makes wine?’ And then I realized, ‘I can do that!’ When I was offered that job, I realized that I would never return to this path if I took a nice little cubicle job,” said Maya Hood White.

“I’ve been taking winemaking classes through U.C. Davis’s distance learning program. The Davis program is focused on California and South America, though, which are very different from Virginia. It’s great as a foundation, but I like the idea of staying and making wine here,” she explained. White, who is interning at Afton Mountain Vineyards, hopes to study enology at Virginia Tech. So in addition to taking about 10 seminars, she is taking chemistry classes at PVCC as well.

“I have a real interest in the chemical aspect of making wine—the polymerization of phenols—because no one really knows how that happens. I love that side of it. But I also enjoy making wine. It’s so hands on, and it’s technical but artistic as well.”

The Lateral Move

“I know marketing, and I know Virginia wine as a consumer,” said Carole Keathley, a marketing expert and consultant, “but I took this class because I wanted to hear what these people had to say. I want to help the smaller wineries, which don’t have big budgets but are passionate about wine.” She has already worked with Gabrielle Rausse and is organizing an Earth Day service event, with trail clearing and tree planting, at DelFosse Vineyards and Winery.

In addition to learning more about marketing in this industry, Keathley hopes to strengthen her understanding of wine through the other classes, too. “I learn the most when I do a vertical tasting or a comparative tasting by varietal,” she explained. “I’ve taken a few tasting classes in the program—beginning tasting, advanced reds, and advanced whites. I am now able to appreciate the different varietals, terroirs, and approaches to winemaking found around the world.
“I have a black thumb,” she laughed. “I’m never going to grow grapes. But I can parlay all this knowledge to advance my career.”

The Second Career

When Chas Lawrence retired just over two years ago, he asked himself what he wanted to do with the second half of his life. The answer, it turns out, is plant a vineyard and make wine. He worked through the viticulture certificate in just over a year, and is now working on the enology certificate.

But unlike most of his classmates, who live in Virginia, Lawrence drives up from Raleigh to participate in the PVCC program. “I’m taking some sustainable agriculture classes closer to home,” he explained, “but there is nothing like this program near me. The one-day format works perfectly.”

Lawrence and his wife bought 11 acres of land in the North Carolina mountains in 2002. A small vineyard had already been started on the property, but the previous owner had walked away from it; by the time the Lawrences bought it, it was overrun. But a lot of the hard work had been done: the site had been selected and the infrastructure, including a blacktop road, was in place. They sat on it until he started taking classes at PVCC.

“I started these classes and started learning about pruning and spray programs. There’s a wealth of information about grapes here, and it’s more transferable to North Carolina than anything I’d have gotten at U.C. Davis,” he said gratefully. “And it’s more accessible.”

He just planted a group of heirloom apples and hopes to make cider as well as wine. “My wife is putting hives in,” he added, “so we may try making mead, too.”

Full Speed Ahead

When Greg Rosko graduated from the program, he had no idea that he’d soon end up as its director. Rosko is an educator by training—he still works for the Charlottesville City Schools—and his experience as a student is quite valuable to him in his current position. He expressed his appreciation for the support the program gets from area vineyards. “The wineries around Charlottesville are wonderful and very generous. We wouldn’t be where we are without them.”

Asked about how the program is affecting the industry, Rosko pointed out that several graduates, like Democracy’s Turpin, have started their own vineyards. “Out in Free Union,” he added, “Michelle and Jeff Sanders are building a winery.” Other student-owners include Skip and Cindy Causey of Potomac Point Winery and Steven “Kim” Moreno of Neala Vineyards. Rosko also ticked off a list of other students employed in the industry at present, naming assistant winemakers, assistant vineyard managers, tasting room managers, interns, and retail wine associates.

DuCard’s Elliff said that participating in the program has helped his business grow. “Based in part on the great word of mouth about the adopt-a-row class and the wines that come out of it, DuCard is expanding production and opening an on-site tasting room for the public.”

Rosko hopes to grow the program by adding a chemistry lab course. “It would be great for students to at least be familiar with the chemistry,” he said. “It would provide a good foundation for those who want to enter the industry, no matter what their job title.” He’d also like to offer more classes on the business end of things, like accounting.

“Vineyards are farms,” he noted, “and farms have different tax forms than other businesses.”

The program recently added a two-year credited apprenticeship in partnership with the state’s department of labor and industry. Two full-time winery employees are currently apprenticing, one in winemaking and the other in vineyard management.

PVCC had started to offer classes like those taken by sommeliers-in-training, but enrollment in these seminars wasn’t high enough, most likely due to the recession. (Consuming all that wine gets expensive.) Rosko is hopeful that this decision will be revisited as interest grows and the economy rebounds.

Piedmont Virginia Community College
Charlottesville, VA
(434) 961-5354
www.pvcc.edu/workforceservices

Jennifer Conrad Seidel is the editor of Flavor and would probably sign up for a cidermaking class if it were offered.

By Marian Burros • Photo by Kristen Taylor

With names like Boston Bounty Bucks, Fresh Checks, and Double Dollars, programs at a few farmers markets across the country—including some in the Capital foodshed—offer economically vulnerable people a deal they cannot refuse: as much as $20 worth of fresh fruits and vegetables for $10.

Double-voucher incentive programs are beginning to take off across the country with help from private foundations, local governments, and now even the federal government.

Just for Yuppies?

Just in the nick of time. As farmers markets spring up nationwide—there were 5,274 last year, double the number in 2000—the buzz that poor people cannot afford to shop at them grows louder.

Those who run the markets don’t deny it. “We know sometimes the food is not as affordable,” said Bernadine Prince, co-director of the nine FreshFarm Markets in metropolitan Washington. “The whole idea of Double Dollars has made food more affordable. We hope the people will come and get fresh food and make it a habit.”

“Double vouchers are exploding,” said Gus Schumacher, a former commissioner of agriculture in Massachusetts and an undersecretary of agriculture in the Clinton administration who has been involved in making farmers markets accessible to low-income shoppers since 1986, a plan that also gets more money into the hands of small farmers.

The double vouchers are available to anyone on food stamps, now known as SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program), and to anyone who participates in the supplemental food program for women, infants, and children at nutritional risk (WIC). It is the latest effort to get people with limited incomes to shop at farmers markets. There are already programs that provide additional vouchers for fruits and vegetables to seniors eligible for food stamps and to WIC participants.

Twice as Nice

The first market in the Capital foodshed to offer double vouchers—and also one of the first in the country—was the Crossroads Farmers Market on the border of Takoma Park and Langley Park, Maryland.

According to Michelle Dudley, Crossroads’ executive director, the market began to offer double vouchers in 2007. By 2009, it was offering $10 for the first visit and $5 each visit. The program was so successful that it ran out of the money it had received from the city of Takoma Park and private foundations, so it had to continue raising additional money on a weekly basis in order to continue the project. “In June and July, our numbers were up over 300 percent because of the coupons,” said Dudley, “but we couldn’t keep up, and in August we offered only $3. Fewer and fewer people came. It was a huge deterrent.”

Dudley said the market also surveyed its customers. “People told us they wouldn’t be coming to the market if it weren’t for those benefits. They also said they can taste the difference. Senior citizens in particular express gratitude on a weekly basis.”

Market by Market

All too often, people eligible for these programs are not aware of them: Generally there has not been enough outreach from the farmers markets or from local government agencies publicizing their availability.

Just as the locavore movement began small and scattered, double vouchers are making their way on to the national scene slowly, market by market. Helping the poor shop at farmers markets is a recent phenomenon and there are still a number of barriers.

In Charlottesville, Virginia, for example, the city refused to sign the necessary government papers in 2009, so double vouchers won’t be available until later this year.

But there are problems at every level. Unlike grocery stores, which have been doing business with food stamp recipients for years, it was only five years ago that farmers markets began accepting food stamps, and even today, not all of them do: It’s up to each individual market whether it will buy the equipment necessary to accept them.

Technologically Challenged

EBT (Electronic Benefit Transfer) systems, now used in place of paper food stamps, are dependent on wireless technology equipment. A food-assistance recipient must swipe what is essentially a debit card in order to access his or her benefits (aka food stamps). Few recipients even know they can use their food stamps at participating farmers markets.

With WIC produce vouchers, each state is allowed to decide whether the vouchers can be used at farmers markets. No special equipment is required to process these vouchers, but, again, it is up to individual vendors whether or not to accept them.

For the double-voucher program, it is up to each market to decide whether to participate. Many of them simply do not have the funds it takes to match benefits. Farmers markets, which are often run by volunteers, may be interested in offering double vouchers but lack the resources for fundraising and administering the program.

Up until now the U.S. Department of Agriculture has not made it any easier. It requires that market organizers get special waivers to offer the double vouchers. In addition, grocery stores receive the EBT equipment for nothing, whereas farmers markets have to pay about $1,000 for one. Deputy Agriculture Secretary Kathleen Merrigan is aware of the financial barriers to both expanding the EBT system and offering vouchers to make those benefits go even further and is providing more money to reduce the burden on the markets. She said the agency is also working to simplify the process for being certified.

Nonprofits in the Lead

The biggest mover in the double-voucher program is the Wholesome Wave Foundation, of which Schumacher is chairman. The foundation gave seed money to 10 markets in four states in 2008 and another 55 markets in 10 states in 2009. This year it will support over 100 markets in 20 states.

Across the country other foundations as well as city and state governments are following the foundation’s lead. Even the federal government is helping out with grants. USDA’s Agriculture Marketing Services gave Massachusetts $15,000 for double vouchers and provided California with $500,000 to promote improved access for low-income residents, including double vouchers.

The program is so new that it is difficult to track how many additional markets with some form of double vouchers exist. Besides the markets funded by Wholesome Wave, some markets in New York, Maine, Ohio, Colorado, and Oregon have found ways to offer such incentives.

In addition to Crossroads, a few other Washington-area markets are offering double vouchers—the Silver Spring market in Maryland, the Spotsylvania County market in Virginia, and both the H Street NE market and the Vermont Avenue (White House) market in the district.

A Win-Win Situation

For areas where there is not enough business for a farmers market, such as inner cities, Wholesome Wave has come up with an innovative way to deliver fruits and vegetables. In Bridgeport, Connecticut, a mobile veggie van brings local produce sold at half price to four inner-city neighborhoods. The mobile unit has been doing $3,000 in sales in a four-hour period. The produce doesn’t always look perfect because it isn’t graded, it isn’t waxed, and it doesn’t come in a box—but it’s fresh.

Wholesome Wave’s Schumacher says if more people on food stamps and the WIC program are encouraged to buy at farmers markets, they will eat healthier food while small farmers can make more money. “If 1 percent of the money in the national food stamp program is spent at farmers markets and 15 percent of the new WIC monthly vouchers are spent at farmers markets, by the end of two or three years that would mean $150 to $200 million for small farmers,” he said. “ I think that’s an achievable vision.”

SNAP Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program

Renamed in late 2008, this federal program was previously known as the Food Stamp Program. The stamps have been replaced with an electronic card that resembles a debit card.

EBT Electronic Benefit Transfer

SNAP clients access their benefits using the EBT system instead of receiving a cash payment or stamps. When purchasing food, they swipe a card with a metallic strip and enter a personal identification number into a point-of-sale machine, just as customers do when using credit or debit cards. The machine that reads the cards requires electricity and an Internet connection.

WIC Women, Infants & Children

This federal program is designed to get healthful food to low-income women and children at risk of not receiving proper nutrition. Recipients are pregnant women and recent mothers (up to six months after birth), infants, and children up to the age of five. Benefits, which vary according to the age of the children and the mother’s condition, allow recipients to buy items such as milk, produce, dairy products, and peanut butter.

Scrip

Because EBT systems are expensive and because electricity and phone lines are not readily available at most farmers market sites, most markets have only one point-of-sale machine. To make this work, the market will issue a scrip, or an alternative currency. The SNAP client swipes his or her card and receives scrip for the amount desired or, if the market is doubling benefits, scrip worth twice that amount. Clients then buy produce from market vendors with scrip, although they do not receive change in return. Market organizers later exchange vendors’ scrip for cash.