The view from the "cornzebo" at Miss Effie's Country Flowers and Garden Stuff
**Please note: this post is also part of The Renegade Farmer's first Farmhouse Festival. CLICK HERE for more wonderful posts!
There was an old saying my European mother had, when my sister and I were little. She would say: "You must still eat the richest cake one bite at a time."
What this meant was that even the largest, grandest thing had to be done one step at a time. Somehow this saying comes to mind, for so many reasons, when writing this post, a story about Iowa, and that journey itself.
Indeed, bit by bit, that journey to farmland, both grand and sweeping, had to be done slowly. Even here, only in little chapters, does the full effect seep into the skin better, get into your bones.
And it isn't lost on me that the woman whose quote I now used is an olden day farm-woman herself, in an era mostly forgotten; yet here I come full circle again, to the same sort of women carrying on the beacon of rural tradition, relaying it forward in the most creative way.
In a final bit of playful irony, I can appreciate the use of food in mama's little saying, because what is farming, if it isn't about food?
Yet, there are some of you who won't know this, how fragile both food and farming are in this country. Some won't care--it's not as cool as the latest technical gadget, or hot as the latest celebrity. It's not sexy and its not easy, the art of making food with just soil, seed, sun, and faith. It's not tidy, ushering animals through birth to their death, at your hands. There is something sacred and profane in the whole thing, but for most people, it comes wrapped in celophane, sterile and price-tagged, with no notion how it came to be.
Before the world became corporatized, before your food became a mass-produced result of debauchery, filled with poisons and pesticides, experimented on, treated in horrible conditions (and most standard supermarket food
IS that, don't fool yourself otherwise), Farmer Brown, his wife and family provided your food. And it is a long standing advantage of people who own a bit of Earth, to be free to grow their own fixin's. And yet with it, comes a great responsibility, and a great respect for the growing process, and the eating process.
I know only bits of this as a city beekeeper. Once you work with them, truly, bees are no longer just stinging insects; there is a great worry for a hive when you realize they are a source of honey for you, and they pollinate so much edible food. You will awe at these thumb sized animals that work so hard, are so intelligent. And here, each season, if all goes well, is sweet liquid gold for you. Suddenly, they aren't angry bugs at all, and those of us that care for bees can see the process from beginning to end, and understand that a loss of a hive is a loss of many things.
I can remember stories of my mother as a young girl, as much the same thing. I soft-hearted woman towards animals, she had to adopt a stoic stance as they butchered chickens and pigs on the family farm. This was an era well before one could even send animals to a slaughter house. It was no easy task to kill a living thing, but it must be done, and no part of the animal was wasted.
And to think of how animals are treated now is a sacrilege, my mother won't stand for me telling her stories of the way most farm animals are treated in this country anymore...
Oddly, or perhaps,
understandably, this sort of knowledge seemed to permeate most of my stay in the Midwest, because--and I'll say it again--what is farming without food?
What that translates to is lots of farm folks who make most of their food. Even the young-uns, young ladies (and men) in their 20's and 30's that can bang out various types of cheeses, breads, homemade sauces, and know the secret ingredients to great buscuits, gravies, and jellies the way most kids can navigate an Xbox. These farm-folk aren't woosies, people. While you might laugh that people can make a full course meal out of 5 ingredients and a little salt to boot, their food bills are non-existent, while yours could be mistaken for rent money. Farming is cool, folks--I thought enough of it to try to get others involved in it, too.
Such is the world of Cathy Linker LaFrenz. As
I mentioned yesterday, she is farm woman, through and through-- creative AND frugal. And by frugal, I simply mean she's clever with how she saves money, not that she's cheap, or that she's not enjoying life. And that, my friends, is the key to self-sufficiency. To live life fully, but not have it live YOU. It does not take much to be happy, healthy, content. You can eat well, dress nicely, and have the life you want if you are willing to work hard, are happy with those things you DO have and be clever with how you spend your time.
Cathy is a dynamo in most aspects of her life, but she really shines in the kitchen. She is a cooking ninja. During my stay with her, she taught me how to make ricotta and mozzarella cheese, no-knead bread, and even pita bread! Meanwhile, I showed her how to make battered fried cauliflower, and the kitchen saw a whole Middle Eastern Cooking Class! I reckon that Cathy's kitchen probably had more action in that 10 days than all year! This love of farming and its hand-in-hand partnership with food would come up, inherently, during my stay with at Cathy's farm.
Such was the case during my stay, when Cathy hosted an an site event that highlighted food and farming beautifully. Created by local Iowa City Chef
Chris Grebner, it was known as
The Farmer's Table. It involved Chris creating and serving a professional meal made of ingredients found on local farms, and then serving it as a formal meal on yet another farm, which could then showcase their charm/business/beauty/ you name it. Cathy's farm would be featured in the week I was there, and so it was a delight to help Cathy set up the house and the cornzebo.
What is a cornzebo, you ask? It is a vintage corn-crib that has been outfitted like a gazebo. Did I not mention that Cathy's alter-ego Miss Effie is wicked creative?
Inside of the cornzebo, being outfitted for event-time!
Cathy and her honey, Cliff, decked the place out with long benches and chairs. As Chris and his staff worked Cathy's kitchen, we did our best to beautify the cornzebo for our reserved guests:
It's times like these when it helps to have a flower farm!
Bouquets for the table...picked straight from Miss Eff's and arranged by Cathy, since my paltry attempts to start them were going south fast!
Cathy's enamelware plates and colonial stoneware water dispenser worked beautifully here....
The table settings..lots of beautiful elements coming together...
Miss Effie's and yours truly! Aren't we a pair? By the way, my hat, fingerless gloves, and Miss Eff's shawl were hand knit by Cathy! She is amazingly talented! And I got to keep the gloves!
And here are our food maestros of the evening. R-L: Chris's friend Aaron, Chris's wife DeeAnn, and Chris himself, in Cathy's Kitchen.
A nice crowd showed up for the festivities....
...and food itself was stupendous! I must say, even as a vegetarian, I appreciated the amazing courses. "Luckily" for me, Cathy's husband Cliff sat across from me, and I turned over a nice sausage and braised Boston butt roast. As you can imagine, he was THANKFUL for my non-carnivorous status that night!
Such was the food that the sweet joke came at the expense of Chris's parents, who were also in attendance. More than once, we threatened to kidnap Chris and force him to cook and, when that didn't work, we attempted bribery. Suffice it to say, Chris is a free man, but darn if I'm not trying to find a way to make him my personal chef.
But between the laughs, there was great food, and great friendship, and the renewal about what I'd known best, but had to rediscover in a place far away from home: food is not just the items we stuff in our mouths, not just "fat to chew." We are literally AND figuratively nourished by food: it is the canvas for social gatherings, as cooks, it's an expression of our inner culinary artist, and as any Italian Grandma will tell you, it's an expression of love. If this is just the beginning of what food means, shouldn't we honor those that grow it for us.
I remember Cathy, at the beginning of our meal, introducing the evening events. Feisty as that woman is, she sort of teared up when talking about the importance of honoring those very farms, the cooks who work with the honest food, and the whole system of supporting one another. I won't lie here, I teared up too. Yes, I will openly admit, I'll get emotional about the small meaningful things, now so easily dismissed as "out-of-date," or "uncool." I also recognized how very fragile and precarious this way of life was, how easily we forget that there are so few small farmers fighting the good fight, how little we value these people (I mean, when's the last time you've heard of people getting into farming for the good pay, respect from peers, and worker's benefits?).....but I hope things are changing. I believe it.
While the world focuses on senseless celebrity marriages, too many wars, and any number of static ridden talking heads, somewhere in a field, simple and friendly people united over a simple meal by an earnest young man and his friends. While they might not have been holding hands, their quiet and humble connection was made by eating....one bite at a time.
