CSA week 3 2012

Volume II, Issue 7
CSA week 3, For the week of June 15th

Come pick-up your CSA vegetable share this week!

Saturday Folks, pick up is this Saturday, June 9th from 1:30-4:30
Tuesday Folks, pick-up is this Tuesday, June 12thfrom 3:30-6:30

Shares are still available—if you have a friend in need of vegetables, we’re growin’ them, so send them our way.

Great Song Farm is pleased to announce that we are now able to accept SNAP benefits. If you would like to pay for your CSA membership using your SNAP benefits, please let us know.


This Week’s Selection

Hakurei Salad Turnips, Kale, Swiss Chard, Mustard Greens, Te You (baby broccoli), Lettuce, Dill, Cilantro, Pick Your Own Peas, Garlic Scapes (Saturday), Scallions (Tuesday)

From the Farmers

Dear Friends,

Why do the birds sing, each their own particular song?

Before we get too far this week, I want to express gratitude for all of the work and care Jen has brought to this farm.  I know that I grew and learned much from Jen over these past couple years, and I could tell her presence also brought much to many of you. Sometimes the paths our lives lead us on may seem strangely inexplicable, sometimes too short lived or drawn out;  this decision has felt overwhelmingly 'right' to me and hopefully for all of us involved, though still difficult.   Godspeed to you Jen.

Back to the birdsong.  Each morning, just as the sun is peeking over the eastern horizon, my alarm that is the birds miraculously appears, coming from unknown and hidden heights.  I open my eyes slowly to the gently glowing haze, some mornings masked by clouds, my only sign that dawn has come again being the birds. And so my day begins.  There is something so very special in being present at sunrise and sunset: To watch as the sun's warmth pulls the damp breath of the earth to its heights and brings light to awaken life after the not so long darkness these days, and to slowly seemingly lay down ever so quietly to rest each evening as the dew falls again and the world becomes ever so still.  If I weren't up so early it might seem that the sun is just always there, high in the sky, the way it just seems to hang there, practically immobile.   The work that carries me into each evening sees me wandering down the hillside pasture from our vegetable fields overlooking the surrounding hills and the big sky, tonight an indescribable rosy pink blending into a deep clear blue, a soft purple helping to bring the two together with the billowing clouds hovering through it all, the golden sun shining through the treetops.  These days, as we approach our summer solstice, are stark, are asking us to take notice of the world in all its beauty, in all its splendor, in all its struggle and joy, in the great growth and the ripenings and the new lives to be constantly emerging as seeds before us; sometimes without us even asking, we are given.

It is somewhat hard to believe it is 10:30 pm Thursday evening and I am pleasantly taking the opportunity to help begin this weekly rhythm we have together, we the farmers sending a note of our life on the farm out to whoever will hear, looking forward to seeing their bright faces in the coming week to share in the bounty brought forth.  Just as the sun seemingly disappeared through the winter months, so did much of the life that makes this farm the place it is.  Now we are again drawn out of ourselves and drawn together and I hadn't realized just how long it had been and really how much I had missed all of you, and am equally glad to be making new friends these past couple weeks.  We share in this opportunity to experience a rhythm together, ebbing, flowing, with it's own cycles and smaller rhythms, sharing and experiencing the struggle and joy of eating with the seasons, of bearing all the beauty that the sun heralds and beholds.  Here is to a new dawn together, a belated greeting to begin our second year together.  One more rhythm I am grateful for.  Thank you all for partaking and participating.

basking in glory,
Anthony and Lisa

Love the earth and sun and the animals,
 despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks,
stand up for the stupid and crazy,
devote your income and labor to others,
hate tyrants, argue not concerning God,
have patience and indulgence toward the people,
take off your hat to nothing known or unknown,
or to any man or number of men,
go freely with powerful uneducated persons,
and with the young, and with the mothers or families,
re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book,
and dismiss whatever insults your own soul;
and your very flesh shall be a great poem....
~ Walt Whitman ~
Preparatory reminders for CSA Distribution at Great Song Farm

Please remember bags to carry your produce home as well as small bags
for small loose greens (arugula, mustard mix, lettuce mix).

Please enter and exit the driveway slowly as it is only wide enough
for one car. Watch for folks walking and the undulations of the
parking area.

When parking, be aware of the large rocks at the entrance of the
driveway and please do not drive where the grass is not short as there
are outcroppings and rocks lurking.

If you will not be coming on your regularly scheduled pick up day,
please let us know, even if you will not be switching days so we know
how much to harvest and whether or not to expect you.
You can email us at greatsongfarm@riseup.net or call at 845-758-1572.

The Love of Morning

It is hard sometimes to drag ourselves
back to the love of morning
after we've lain in the dark crying out
O God, save us from the horror . . . .

God has saved the world one more day
even with its leaden burden of human evil;
we wake to birdsong.
And if sunlight's gossamer lifts in its net
the weight of all that is solid,
our hearts, too, are lifted,
swung like laughing infants;
 but on gray mornings,
all incident - our own hunger,
the dear tasks of continuance,
the footsteps before us in the earth's
beloved dust, leading the way - all,
is hard to love again
for we resent a summons
that disregards our sloth, and this
calls us, calls us.

~ Denise Levertov ~

As if you needed recipes for those delicious white turnips...

The turnips are really coming in, and though simply delicious anyway you can bring them to your plate (or simply out of your hand), here are a few ideas that will let you fill your entire basket with turnips and eat well every night.

Curried Turnips

Garlic Scapes or Scallions
2 tablespoons oil
5 or 6 harkurei turnips
2 teaspoons curry powder
1 teaspoon salt
one lemon, cut into wedges

Sauté the scapes/scallions in the oil for a few minutes until translucent. Add the turnips, the curry powder and salt and cook until everything is tender. Squeeze some lemon juice over the dish before serving and serve with extra lemon wedges.

Roasted Turnips
Remove greens from turnips, leaving about one inch of stem attached to the turnip. Wash and place in saucepan. Cover with water and boil until tender. Drain turnips, place in baking pan, drizzle with olive oil and bake at 400 degrees until golden brown. Sprinkle with sea salt and eat the whole turnip, stem and all. The greens can be sautéed.

Grated Turnip and Apple Salad
  • 1 cup peeled and grated raw turnips
  • 1 cup peeled and grated tart green apples
  • ½ cup chopped fresh parsley
  • Juice of 1 large lemon or lime
  • 1 Tablespoon vegetable oil
  • Fresh ground pepper
Combine everything, toss, cover and chill.

Hakurei Turnip Gratin

  • Butter
  • Hakurei Turnips (1 bunch)
  • Thyme
  • Cayenne Pepper
  • Heavy Cream
  • Chicken or Vegetable Stock
  • Parmesan Cheese
Melt 1 Tablespoon butter in a non-stick 12 inch skillet (make sure you have a top to fit the pan.)
Wash one bunch of white hakurei turnips well, top and tail them, and slice them in 1/4 inch slices. Save the turnip greens for another recipe. You don’t need to peel the turnips. Layer the slices in the pan. Sprinkle the sliced turnips with 1 teaspoon dry thyme, 3/4 teaspoon salt, 1/4 tsp. freshly ground pepper, and 1/8- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper.
Cook for 3 minutes over medium heat, then pour 1/2 cup heavy cream and 1/2 cup gluten-free chicken stock over the top. Cover and cook the turnips over medium heat for 20 minutes. The turnips will be completely cooked through, but there will be considerable liquid left in the pan. Remove the cover and cook to reduce the liquid. When most of the liquid has reduced (about 5-10 minutes), and the sauce is thickened, grate finely 1/2 cup of fresh parmesan cheese evenly over the top. Watch closely as the cheese melts and make sure that the liquid does not entirely cook away. Recipe credit: www.gfzing.com
Serve the turnips hot. The recipe is supposed to serve 6, but maybe realistically it would only serve 4, once they discover that they love turnips!

A little something else…


Maggie's taking care of a man
who's dying; he's attended to everything,
said goodbye to his parents,

paid off his credit card.
She says Why don't you just
run it up to the limit?

but he wants everything
squared away, no balance owed,
though he misses the pets

he's already found a home for
-- he can't be around dogs or cats,
too much risk. He says,

I can't have anything.
She says, A bowl of goldfish?
He says he doesn't want to start

with anything and then describes
the kind he'd maybe like,
how their tails would fan

to a gold flaring. They talk
about hot jewel tones,
gold lacquer, say maybe

they'll go pick some out
though he can't go much of anywhere and then
abruptly he says I can't love

anything I can't finish.
He says it like he's had enough
of the whole scintillant world,

though what he means is
he'll never be satisfied and therefore
has established this discipline,

a kind of severe rehearsal.
That's where they leave it,
him looking out the window,

her knitting as she does because
she needs to do something.
Later he leaves a message:

Yes to the bowl of goldfish.
Meaning: let me go, if I have to,
in brilliance. In a story I read,

a Zen master who'd perfected
his detachment from the things of the world
remembered, at the moment of dying,

a deer he used to feed in the park,
and wondered who might care for it,
and at that instant was reborn

in the stunned flesh of a fawn.
So, Maggie's friend?
Is he going out

Into the last loved object
Of his attention?
Fanning the veined translucence

Of an opulent tail,
Undulant in some uncapturable curve
Is he bronze chrysanthemums,

Copper leaf, hurried darting,
Doubloons, icon-colored fins
Troubling the water?
~ Mark Doty ~