Author: vermontnews

On the DigInVT.com blog, we encourage guest writers to tell us about what they’re passionate about in the Vermont food and farm landscape. Caroline Abels, who contributed the following post, is known to many around Vermont as the editor of Vermont’s Local Banquet. Here, she shares another project based on her personal concern over meat production and ethical options for the non-vegetarian through Humaneitarian.org.     

 

It’s a new word, and kind of hard to spell, but give it a try – “humaneitarian.”  Better yet, try eating like a humaneitarian. In Vermont, it’s easy.

What exactly is a humaneitarian?   A person who eats humanely raised meat – either all of the time or some of the time. Similar to a vegetarian, a humaneitarian keeps animals in mind when they make food choices – but unlike vegetarians, they love meat and want to support farms that treat animals well.

I’ve been a humaneitarian since 2009, when I worked closely with cows and pigs on a Vermont dairy farm. I vowed that summer to give up factory farmed meat entirely – having toyed with the idea for a year or so – and pledged that I’d only eat humanely raised meat from then on. Happily, I found lots of alternative meat options at my local food co-op – not to mention all the humanely raised meat straight from the farm I was working for.  

But you might be wondering, what exactly is humanely raised meat?  An excellent question, and one I think about often as the founder & editor of Humaneitarian.org, a Vermont-based project that inspires people to switch to humanely raised meat. (I launched the website in 2011, using this new word to describe a way of life I had fully embraced and wanted to share with others.) Many Americans, after hearing about abuses in factory farms, want to opt out of industrial meat production altogether. They don’t want their money supporting such “farms.”Instead, they want to support farms where pigs give birth in the great outdoors, cows feast on grass all day, and chickens get to perch, peck, and nest. They feel that this kind of meat, broadly speaking, is humanely raised.

Still, it’s essential to to determine what, exactly, “humane” means to you,because when you get into the specifics, it’s a word that means different things to different farms and food companies. Today there are many different labels that describe meat raising practices, as well as many farms telling their own, individual story. Which choices might you prefer?  Do you want only pasture-raised meat?  Are you ok with animals being housed in barns?  Is organic meat important to you?  Are you an acolyte for 100% grass-fed? Humaneitarian.org can help you here by introducing you to different meat labels.

After you settle on what is humane to you, you’re ready to visit farms that match your morals. Not everyone in America lives near such farms, but they’re all around us in Vermont, a fact that allows me to stuff my freezer regularly with pastured pork, ethically-raised veal, organic beef, and even the occasional rabbit or duck. And these farms often welcome visitors from nearby or far away who want to learn more about their practices.  

Always call farms before you visit, but here’s one that would love to greet you (I’m biased – I used to work there): Green Mountain Girls Farm in Northfield. Farmers Mari Omland and Laura Olsen can arrange a tour of their pasture-based farm in advance, where you can see (depending on the season) their adorable milking goats, chummy pigs, blissed out chickens, or handsome turkeys. They offer beautiful accommodations, too, for overnight stays, and a slew of on-farm workshops, dinners and concerts.

Applecheek Farm in Hyde Park is another treasure. They have a farm store where they stock all their meats – including hard-to-find pastured (“rose”) veal and French Muscovy ducks (depending on the season). Applecheek also hosts an occasional farm supper in their beautifully restored barn loft – go not only for the fabulous food but the warmth and graciousness of farmers John and Rocio Clark.

 

These are just two examples. You can search for farms with different meat and poultry products at the DigInVT Places page, which lists farms that are open to visitors. You can also interact with local farmers at farmers’ markets. Check out DigIn’s Farmers’ Market listings and visit each market’s website to find information on their vendors and, often, links to the vendors’ webpages. For instance, if you’re visiting Montpelier and want to take home some pasture-raised beef, go to the Capital City Farmers’ Market website and notice the listing for Greenfield Highland Beef. Stop by their booth at the market, or arrange a visit to the farm, and purchase some 100% grass-fed beef raised with pure love by Ray Shatney and Janet Steward.

Now, some farms in Vermont don’t accept visitors or necessarily have direct-to-customer sales, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t open about their animal rearing practices. Misty Knoll Farms in New Haven, which supplies a good deal of chicken and turkey to localvores in Vermont and beyond, raises its birds indoors-only and doesn’t let visitors into the barns because of bio-security concerns. But farmer Rob Litch is always willing to talk about his highly successful operation.

Of course, you can also sample humanely raised meat at restaurants. The number of Vermont restaurants that serve this kind of meat are more numerous than cattle on a Western plain. When you visit one, don’t ask “Do you serve humanely raised meat?” because that phrase can mean anything. Ask instead for grass-fed, pasture-raised, free-range, or organic meats – and preferably local ones, because Vermont doesn’t have the kind of factory farms that supply most of America’s meat protein. On Humaneitarian, you can read more about finding humanely raised meats at restaurants. Also, the restaurants on DigInVT all have commitments to purchase locally, and will list the local farms that provide their meat.

We’re fortunate here in Vermont, where we can “eat the change we want to see in the world,” to paraphrase Gandhi.  If you want to help create meaningful change for the world’s farm animals by helping change the American marketplace, start by gathering up your humaneitarian principles, doing a bit of research on Vermont farms, and supporting the kinds of farming practices that allow us to truly eat with care.

Caroline Abels is the founder/editor of Humaneitarian.org and the editor of Vermont’s Local Banquet, a quarterly magazine covering Vermont’s farms and food system.

Source: Dig in VT Trails

What does it mean when the car’s Check Engine light comes on? One of our cars is an aging Subaru, so this is a commonly asked question in our house. Even the skilled mechanics at our garage seem uncertain about the cause. “It could be about 300 different things,” they tell me as they hook up their diagnostics. After running the car through their scanner, sometimes they still can’t identify the cause. If nothing shows up as a problem, they simply turn off the light. Maybe it will stay off for a while, but there’s also a chance that it’ll come back on before I pull into our driveway.

 

 

So what exactly does the Check Engine light mean? This question can of course apply to other things besides the car. Take relationships, for instance. Those of us who have been married for a long time know that no matter how strong your relationship is, sometimes the proverbial light comes on. Sometimes, like the car, the reasons are mysterious. Regardless, it’s best not to ignore it.

Chris and I recently celebrated our twenty-third anniversary, not a momentous one like the twentieth or twenty-fifth, but reason to celebrate all the same. We decided to spend 24 hours in Burlington. Even though it’s just 45 minutes away, and I’m up there for various reasons about once a week, Burlington still feels like a getaway. And the car needed to go into the shop, so to speak. We’d also been wanting to try out Hotel Vermont, a swank boutique hotel that opened in the fall and was recently rated one of the Top Ten Best New Hotels in the US by Trip Advisor.

“Local and global, natural and sophisticated, hand wrought and high tech” is how Hotel Vermont accurately describes itself. The entire space is a veritable showcase of Vermont craftsmanship—from the giant sculptural mural in the lobby made from reclaimed wood, to the local slate, stone, and wood construction materials, to the Vermont made bath products and glass soap dishes.

Its location down by the Lake Champlain waterfront is also a plus. Our room had a view of the water, steely gray this time of year but beautiful nonetheless. 

There’s something to be said for visiting your home city as a tourist. Often when I’m in Burlington, I’m rushing to an appointment or shuttling somebody somewhere. But on this day, Chris and I had 24 hours and no place to be except Hotel Vermont—and a few eating and drinking establishments of our choosing. Since we know the city so well, there were no sites or neighborhoods we felt pressure to explore, no shows to see, no shop or gallery I would be disappointed to miss. We could simply relax and enjoy.

 

We started out with lunch at El Cortijo, a converted diner that serves up creative, farm fresh Mexican fare, such as soft tacos stuffed with spice rubbed local chicken and guajillo crema, or delicata squash and roasted corn salsa.

 

 

Chris and I shared a couple of tacos in this fun and funky spot,         

and then relished having a free calendar all afternoon. 

We had dinner reservations at 7:30, but first I wanted to try out a newish wine bar called Vin. They offer two-ounce pours, so we put together a little tasting of reds from France, Spain, and Italy. The favorite? A 2009 Chateaux Aney from Haut-Medoc, Bordeaux–perfect for an anniversary toast.

 

Back to Hotel Vermont for dinner, at Hen of the Wood specifically, a restaurant whose opening we’ve been awaiting for the past year. Its sister restaurant in Waterbury, also named Hen of the Wood, has long been a special occasion destination for us. A temple to upscale farm to table cuisine, HOTW is a fitting addition to a hotel that showcases the best Vermont has to offer. The open kitchen enhances the restaurant’s dynamic vibe. Sometime I’d like to come back and eat at the dining bar overlooking the alchemy.

HOTW’s signature dish, a Hen-of-the-Woods Mushroom Toast topped with housemade bacon and a poached farm egg, is sublime. The earthy, meaty mushrooms have a frilly texture and large oval shape, resemble a roosting hen, hence the name. I had had this dish before and couldn’t resist ordering it again, but this time I wasn’t in the mood for the egg. I asked the waiter if they could shave some cheese over top instead, and they graciously topped it with Cabot cloth-bound cheddar. I appreciate a chef whose ego doesn’t forbid substitutions, although admittedly the dish didn’t look as pretty as it does with the egg (but it tastes just as good).

 

Chef Eric Warnstedt, one of Food & Wine’s Best Chefs in America in 2008, has a style that’s down to earth, not fussy. His artistry never overpowers the quality of the ingredients. Take meat, for example. Just off the main dining room, a window to the walk-in cooler allows you to view carcasses waiting to be butchered in the back of the kitchen.

This commitment to freshness and quality control shines through in every dish. We’d been to the restaurant as a family shortly prior to this visit, when I had tasted Faye’s pork loin and swooned. Ever since, I had been planning to order it, but alas, tonight they were out. Since I was craving pork, I regrouped and decided to try a small plate called “Tonno di Maiale.” I had never heard of this Tuscan preparation of ham before, which involves braising it in olive oil and wine so it softens to the consistency of tuna, but oh-my-goodness was I glad I was forced to veer off my plan. Succulent and full of flavor, its only flaw was that it was a small plate. Fortunately the ham was accompanied by more of the wood-grilled bread that held the mushrooms, so I could sop up the juices. Sorry, no photo; I was too engrossed.

Meanwhile, Chris was happy with his steak, complemented by coal roasted onions and crumbles of Bayley Hazen Blue. Wanting just a little more, I resisted ordering another Tonno di Maiale and instead went with a small plate featuring an unexpected creature—octopus. It was decidedly not local, but I was feeling adventurous. Grilled over the wood fire (as much of HOTW’s food is), it was a tasty blast of summer in the middle of winter.

 

 

But the blue ribbon of the evening goes to the Tonno di Maiale. Next time I’m at HOTW, I may have to start with that and follow it up with the pork loin.

For dessert, we shared a plate of “Little Sweets” created by Andrew LeStourgeon, former pastry chef at NYC’s Fig & Olive.  We had tried his opera bar on our previous visit and noticed his talent. This plate of assorted goodies was like a dessert tasting, ideal for sharing. 

When Chris and I wandered in for brunch the next morning at Juniper, Hotel Vermont’s other restaurant (and bar, in the evenings), we were greeted by more of LeStourgeon’s work: a platter of tempting pastries. I made mental note to seek them out another time, and then we settled in at a table for a hearty plate of eggs, (more) bacon, and hash browns to cap off our stay.

 

As our 24 hours came to a close, the Check Engine light had been roundly extinguished, at least for a while. If it flickers on again, we know just the remedy.

 

Originally published on the Vermont Epicure http://www.thevermontepicure.com.

Source: Dig in VT Trails