Here we are
at Agricola, almost 30 hungry people.
We are, all of us, being taken on a tour of the barn that houses animals
we will be eating in a half hour or so.
(More accurately, the relatives of animals we will be eating.) Talk about a short trip from source to
table, this is about as short as it gets.
 |
| Some of our hungry group, awaiting the start of the barn tour |
 |
| Inside, Alessandra Rellini, at right, tells us about their plans for the barn and the animals |
Here in this ancient barn, formerly a milking factory
with a vast array of cow stations, we are looking at the animals that now occupy
roughly a quarter of the space that has so far been cleaned up and converted from dairy
production. There are many several-hundred-pound
pigs of the Large Chester and Durac variety and their piglets, an old breed that does
well in Vermont’s climate, and one boar (all the sows' needs are satisfied by a lone uncastrated boar,
domestic variety). The chickens
are Buff Orpington and Welsummer, the sheep Icelandic (mmm, Icelandic wool). Somewhere out of our sight may also be guinea fowl, Narragansett turkeys (a heritage breed) and quail.
Why this
combination of animals? The leader
of our tour is Alessandra Rellini (Ale), owner and chief farm enthusiast, who created and manages this enterprise with her husband, small daughter, and, we fervently
hope, countless other helpers. We do see a few helpers in the barn. Later at least one or two appear to help serve dinner. Ale
explains their animal strategy on Agricola’s website:
“The
pigs, with their mighty snouts, till the land. In come the chickens, the
cleaning squad, taking care of unwanted worms and seeds and fertilizing the
fields. Once the grass reaches the perfect height, the sheep come by for a
snack. By trimming the grass, they help promote the health of those tender and
precious plants that so efficiently turn the power of the sun into energy for
the pigs, and the chickens, and the sheep...they are one of the few
three-purpose breeds, providing meat, milk, and fiber. But the benefits
don’t stop there. Icelandic sheep's meat, free of the mutton taste,
is considered a delicacy.”
The chickens range everywhere (“Not free range! It’s anarchy!” says Ale). Her
daughter, fortunately, is talented at locating the eggs they lay here and there.
When there are hawks flying Ale says the chickens seek protection near
the great lumbering pigs.
 |
| Several of the Icelandic sheep. They are very fuzzy. |
We are
impressed with her ambition. No, we are in awe. Imagine purchasing a farm
of some 50-plus acres with enormous ancient outbuildings in dire need of repair,
the primary barn the size of a football field (nearly!) and ankle deep in old
cow manure with yet more manure piled just outside, all still
imprinted with the decaying detritus of dairying. Then imagine building an enterprise that unites all this: making and marketing charcuterie
products like prosciutto, salame, coppe, guanciale, pancetta
and tesa, running a Farm Assistant
Program, teaching others how to butcher pork, lamb and poultry or make ravioli,
and––this is where we come in––running a Dinner Club that offers a gourmet
dinner with products from the farm. This list may not be inclusive. Ale learned pork
butchery in Italy and shears her own sheep. She is on the board of Slow Food Vermont.
This is
tonight’s menu:
 |
| That antipasto, Ale assured us, is lamb broth not, definitely not, consommé! In Italy, unlike France, you understand, the impurities are not removed! |
 |
| Lamb rack |
 |
| The restaurant. For the evening, anyway. |
So we
eat. Our dinner is served Italian
family style but with individual plating, and lasts nearly four hours. Ken and I, together with our friend
Susan, manage over that period of time to polish off two and a half bottles of
wine and taste a few others. Our table-mates appear to be
to be there for at least partly professional reasons as they include a chef, food buyer, and owner's family member from our local Basin Harbor Club. The talk at our section of table––what little I can hear of
it over the din created by 30 of us in the two connected rooms and Ken with his hearing loss hears nothing at all––is, perhaps
unsurprisingly, about artisanal food, raising sheep, and goats. I have virtually nothing to add to the conversation. The chef for this night's dinner is a Burlington-based caterer Alessandra met while involved in the pop-up restaurant scene there. (And I thought only New York had a pop-up restaurant scene!)
 |
| Two of our three tables. Several diners are from Vergennes, and some have visited here before. |
Eating
locally sourced food is so easy here.
Even in winter. (In summer,
of course, we can harvest a few things we grow ourselves, and there’s also the
local Farmer’s Markets in Middlebury and Vergennes with local cheeses, meats,
greens and what-all.) Our eggs year-round usually
come from the Scholten Family Farm on the road to Middlebury, unless our daughter next
door has an overflow of eggs from her chickens. That rarely happens as her chickens are pretty much pooped out. The Scholten farm, like many others, also makes a cheese that we occasionally buy at the
farm itself. We could just as easily buy from the Duclos Farm on Sheep Farm Road.
 |
| Inside the egg, cheese, and meat shed at Scholten Family Farm. The honor system rules. |
Even closer,
at the corner of our road and Route 17 farmer Brian Kayhart sells his pork,
including sausage, and beef at Chalker Farm. We drive past our food regularly. The grass-fed beef we get there and elsewhere always has outstanding flavor, although sometimes that lovely meat is less tender than one would like. (A price to pay; those steers enjoyed cavorting in their field.) Six months ago we bought a pig ourselves, half a pig,
really, the other half going to my daughter and family next door, and filled
our freezer with smoked bacon, ribs, loin, shoulder, chops, ham, and a few mysterious
hunks that we haven’t quite figured out how to cook. If I had a pig I would name her Hamlette.
 |
| The meat source at our "corner" |
As for
chickens, at our Natural Food Co-op (imagine a smaller friendlier Whole Foods)
the chickens are usually from Misty Knoll Farms in our town, unless our family/neighbors decide to raise meat chickens again. (Note: Meat chickens bear no resemblance either physically or mentally to egg chickens.) Or we can skip the farms and shop for meat at Green Pasture Meats on
Route 7 a few miles away. There are plenty more choices. Did I mention that all this good healthy meat is not necessarily cheap? Although it can be reasonably priced when you raise it yourself, it's not a bargain. The cost of feed and bedding or whatever has to be added in, and so does slaughtering and packaging. Maybe your time, too. It's a choice.
The ACORN guide to local farms distributed by our local newspaper, the Addison Independent, lists
191 farms and local food sources in the county that offer everything from apples and hard cider to
plants or meat and veggies. And that’s just Addison County. It’s a Vermont thing. Locovoria!*
*Yes, I know. There's no such word. But how else to say local food utopia?
