A REALLY EXCITING ANNOUNCEMENT!

So let’s just get right into the big news and then we’ll break it down: starting this summer I—with a massive amount of assistance from Hannah, of course—will be taking over as the head chef and executive farmer of a new restaurant in Versailles called Spark Community Cafe. I will still be a full-time farmer at Rough Draft Farmstead, but I will also be a chef. Let me explain.FIRST, WHAT IS SPARK?Spark Community Cafe is a nonprofit, pay-what-you-can restaurant opening in downtown Versailles, Kentucky (this summer), and Hannah and I are beyond excited to be a part of it.It is estimated that 17 percent of Kentuckians and 22 percent of Kentucky children are food insecure—that’s roughly one and five of our fellow citizens. Food insecurity exists in every county in Kentucky, and every county in the United States. Spark’s pay-what-you-can model is a brilliantly simple way of addressing this issue head on.HOW IT WORKSPatrons can pay the suggested price, or more, or less, depending on their financial circumstances. Payments are kept anonymous so no one knows how much anyone else pays. Patrons who cannot afford a meal are able to volunteer at the restaurant and earn meals that way. One can also volunteer his or her time to donate meals so others may have a meal. Ultimately, the goal of Spark and the many other restaurants like it is to end food insecurity in the community—to make sure kids and adults, single parents, poor, or just cash-strapped people alike can get a good, nutritious meal when they need it - and can dine with dignity.HOLISTIC GOALSOffering food to those people who may not have access to a nutritious meal every day speaks to Hannah and me as citizens, but also as farmers. Hannah and I have always struggled with how expensive our produce is. There is no easy way for us to grow it cheaper, sell it cheaper, and still make a sufficient living. So this pay-what-you-can model presents a very exciting opportunity for us to get our produce to those who may not normally, or regularly, be able to afford it while still making a living for ourselves. This is especially true as Spark’s founders seek to pay a living wage to their workers and support local farmers by paying a fair price for the food.My role will be to create seasonal menus and train the staff on how to prepare them. I will likewise be utilizing ingredients from our farm and others (so if you’re a farmer or artisan in the area, make sure to email me at roughdraftfarmstead@gmail.com so I can have your info—I will be actively looking for people to provide certain crops, meats, etc..). The goal will be to use as much local foods as possible, with an emphasis on farms and artisans closest to the restaurant and within Kentucky first, and pay what the crops are actually worth.This project will certainly be extra work for us, but it’s something we believe is not only important, but in line with our values, goals, and faith.Ultimately, almost a decade ago now, when we looked around and asked ourselves how we could affect the most change, Hannah and I chose farming. Now through Spark, we will be able to amplify that goal.Of course, Rough Draft Farmstead will still be running our CSA (SIGN UP HERE). We will still be selling to other restaurants, but Spark will be our other exciting (ad)venture this year. So we hope you will check out and follow Spark!If you would like to get involved, volunteer, donate, or just learn more, check out Spark on Facebook, Instagram or at sparkcommunitycafeky.org. We hope you will come support this cause while we all work to eradicate food insecurity in our communities.-Jesse.

THE FARMER AND CHEF SERIES: WHAT FARMERS DO RIGHT.

It's around 8:30 a.m. and I'm looking at a large chunk of galangal, which has suddenly appeared from the cab of Rocky Glade Farm's truck for the chefs to taste. Owen––who is always bouncing a little with excitement, but particularly so at the sight of this rhizome––cuts a few slivers off and hands one to me. The galangal itself is beautiful, the flavor unreal, and the fact that it even exists in this moment? A perfect place to continue our TFAC Series. Because if you want to know what farmers do right, Philip and Owen tell me, just talk to Rocky Glade.So that's what we did. This past Sunday, Hannah and I went to Rocky Glade Farm to meet Jim, Julie and their distractingly wonderful children at their farm for a little conversation and farm tour.I should start by saying that what I didn't realize about Rocky Glade when I first requested an interview was that this is their busy time. Unlike us, who are now more or less "laid by" for the season, the Vaughn family is just gearing up. They do not do a full-on summer market––they literally and somewhat shockingly, don't even grow tomatoes. Instead, they focus most of their efforts on the fall and winter, because upon asking themselves, "When would our customers miss us the most?", wintertime was the obvious victor. So for them to have given us a whole Sunday afternoon in the fall was very generous, and I hope they found it as fun and interesting as we did.Something else I did not realize about Rocky Glade was what percentage of their sales that restaurants make up. Well, not restaurants, exactly, but primarily one restaurant––singular. In terms of income, they told us, Rolf and Daughters makes up around a third of their yearly sales. Then, of course, there are a few other restaurants that buy from them who they view perhaps as larger market customers. They also have their market table and then a Fall/Winter CSA to make up the rest. But Rolf is a notably significant slice of the pie. For a market farmer, that's an attractive reality––having a customer that large, and that consistent. However, when I asked them if they were looking for more restaurant sales like that, they both said not really. "We don't need another Rolf." They like having a couple other smaller restaurants, then a few different income outlets. Indeed, Rolf and Daughters supplies a large portion of their revenue, but because diversity is as important in your sales as in your garden, they do not rely solely on restaurants for their income. If the restaurant shuts down for a week, as they point out, the farm doesn't shut down. Since it is always producing, a farm needs alternatives and, we all laugh, "people who can use normal-sized chard and kale––some regular chefs."What their farm has with Rolf and Daughters is special, they tell us, but it isn't unique. "A lot of farms our size," Jim points out, "end up finding one restaurant they mesh with." This is a person who comes to them to sift through seed catalogs in the winter, or calls them regularly for produce, or even goes to them first when they're wondering if a specific crop can be grown locally. It's not just a customer, but a working relationship. Or as Julie put it, "A partnership."But if you were a chef, it would be hard not to not want Rocky Glade as your farm. They are passionate about what they do, and according to Philip and Owen, they're on it. They send consistent, regular emails with produce lists, and how much is available every week. Julie "scouts the garden hard twice a week", then sends them updates on what's coming in, and what's going out. She tells us she likes any type of communication that can "hang out there" for a while, so that the chefs can see it, and start thinking about it. Chefs have different schedules from farmers. When Rocky Glade is getting back from the fields, and typing up their availability lists, R.A.D is starting service. But by sending an email or leaving a message, the next time she checks in with them––which she does by lunch every Monday, if they do not respond––she will have an order within hours.Of course, Julie said she always feels like she's pushing too hard, but to hear R.A.D. talk about it, they're grateful for the check-ins––for someone working so hard to keep them supplied with great food. The chefs also like that they know how much they can order of something, the size it might be, and so on. Jim will even send chefs pictures from the field of various produce so they can see how it's coming along. It's smart, and as far as I can tell, greatly appreciated.So what the Vaughn family does so well, from my perspective, is focus on just a few restaurants––one in particular––and really works hard to satisfy those restaurants' needs. They don't just grow things and heap them on their table in hopes restaurants will buy every bit, because most of the time, they said, the restaurants want something different––something specific. They want a smaller size, shape, or even part of the plant. Getting to know the chefs then, eating at their restaurants and really building that relationship, gives them the opportunity to understand what those needs are and to fulfill them. Moreover, they communicate a lot. They ask a lot of questions. They give and request feedback. Rocky Glade, in this sense, is a great model for the restaurant farm because they are constantly striving to better serve their restaurants.Anyway, I could write a book on Rocky Glade, but later this week or early next I'll try and distill some more of what we learned there into a more concise, "Lesson from Rocky Glade" post. So check back and––sorry, can't help myself––go Cubs!- Jesse.

THE FARMER AND CHEF SERIES: WHAT FARMERS DO WRONG.

I'm walking beside Philip as we pass what I see as a thoroughly solid market table. It's not diverse, but it's stacked high with some of the better looking produce I've seen yet––healthy kale, turnips, radishes––all vibrant and fresh. Noticing that Philip hardly gives the table anything more than a passing glance, though, I ask him what he thinks about these farmers. He says they have some good stuff sometimes, but the price point is often too high, and they don't really try to work with him. And like that we're back in the truck and driving off to another market.If I can emphasize anything that I learned this day traveling around with Philip and Owen, it's the value of the actual relationship. The price points of our farm can be high, too. I know that. But they still come back to buy from us. Why? I didn't ask them this question directly, but I would assume it's because we will work with them, and because we get along well. So even when they don't want something we have, I almost always try to bring them something they do want so as not to waste their time––in fact, every farmer we spent any real time with that day, pulled something special for R.A.D. from underneath the table. But this isn't about what farmers do right––we'll get to that in later posts––this is about what farmers do to make someone like Philip and Owen lose interest.When I ask Owen to give me an example of what a farmer does wrong he sites one specific farmer who was often combative and would refuse to sell them things they wanted because she didn't want it to ruin her display. Notice the past tense in that sentence, because they stopped even trying. As a farmer, I get the empty table thing a little. I understand that you may not want someone coming first thing in the morning and taking all of your produce, leaving part or all of your table bare for the rest of the day, and you with nothing to do (most markets ask you stay until the end of the day before packing up). An empty table does not bring in customers. That being said, I know few farmers whose goal is to have anything less than an empty table at the end of the day. That's at least part of the point––to sell the food you bring. Also, with a good relationship to a chef, they may tell you what they are looking for in advance––"can you have twenty pounds of this for me next week?"––so you can plan for it and keep it off your table in the first place.Anyway, maybe this farmer, or the farmers I started this post with, just don't care to sell to restaurants. Because not all farmers do. Not all farmers see the value in it which begs the question, what is the value in selling to restaurants? At a busy market, you may have no reason to get rid of your produce early. You may have other regular customers who will pay full price for everything until you completely sell out week after week. So is it even worth building up that relationship? If they're paying a lower price, why should a farmer bother?For me, for starters, having worked in high level restaurants, I enjoy selling to them. I enjoy foraging or growing items I wouldn't normally bother with for a market table. I also like the idea of someone buying in bulk from us when I do not know what the market turnout will be––when I do not know what other farmers are bringing. They want forty pounds of tomatoes from the front table? Great. Because everyone else has them, too, and who knows if we'll be able to sell them otherwise. If we see or suspect we're the only ones who brought tomatoes that day, we might just ask full price for all of them, which means the chefs may not buy them. If I know I can get full price for something over the course of the day, I won't discount it and they understand that. They understand about the price because we have a good working relationship. So, finding the value in selling to chefs isn't much of a struggle for us.Though I know farmers who are successful at doing this, I don't want it to sound like an advertisement for selling only to chefs, thus neglecting the regular market customer. Not at all. In fact, we don't even remotely do that. We sell primarily to customers through a CSA, then we sell mostly specific, requested items to chefs like Philip and Owen (most of which we actually also do give in our CSA––daylillies for instance). Sure, they buy off our table, but mostly we bring them something they needed or wanted. Anyhow, I think it's important to consider the potential––the business potential––in building a relationship with chefs. Because the truth is you, along with the rest of the farmers, may have a bumper crop of amazing looking kale one week––more than you will ever sell in one fall market day––and the person who the chef is going to buy a pile from is the farmer who has made the effort to build a relationship. Even at a small discount––and they're not expecting free food here––it's a nice bit of security.How do you make this connection? Just stop them and talk to them. See what they need, sure, but more so, just tell them what you have. Shake their hands, tell them you see them at the market all the time and you'd love to work with them. Believe me, if you make the effort, they will take notice, and they will look at your table.There may be more posts on what farmers do wrong, but I say next week we do a post about what farmers do right, and what chefs do wrong. So stay tuned. Well, not literally. Go work, then check back next week. Oh, and feel free to add some commentary below––I'd love to hear what you think about the farmer/chef relationship.- Jesse.

VISION.

There have been a million changes to my vision in the past decade or so of my life, but three that really stand out. And by vision I don't mean, "My vision for the world," or "My vision for the future." I literally (okay, and as always, somewhat figuratively) mean how I see.The first came in 2007. I was in Burgundy, France, where I was staying at a small Bed and Breakfast for the night on a trip through wine country. The B&B had this beautiful patio and garden area for guests where I spent the evening reading Michael Pollan's Omnivore's Dilemma for the first time. After that day, I could hardly put the book down. And when I returned to the states a few days later, I couldn't stop thinking about what I was eating. The entire world of food was suddenly punctuated with giant question marks––where did it come from? How was it raised? What's in this? My blissful ignorance about food was irreparably destroyed by that book. Never again could I ignore factory farms, or artificial ingredients, or the impact those things have on ourselves and our environment. My vision, in this sense, was forever altered.The second change came from farming itself. I remember I returned to New York for a visit after my first year interning and the city looked tangibly different to me. It wasn't just a city of buildings, bars and concrete, but I could suddenly see Nature, creeping up out of the cracks in the sidewalks. I could see yards, parks, trees, animals. I noticed flowers and insects. I had lived in New York for nearly five years and never once did I really consider how much nature was there. Not enough, some might argue––I might argue––but more than I'd ever seen.And the most recent, and arguably most profound, change to my vision has been parenthood. My God, has parenthood changed my vision. I recently went to the market and all I could see were the kids. I saw infants and thought of Further in his first month on the planet. I saw toddlers and thought of his next few years. There were a few awkward teenagers, tall and gangly and uncomfortable. That, I couldn't help but think, will one day be Further. If I had never become a parent, I would have probably never noticed the other fathers, the other Furthers, the other mothers and families. But now I see them. Now I understand them. Now I get it. Now, I love it.What I appreciate about these three changes is how complimentary of one another they have been. The concern I developed for food through Omnivore's Dilemma pairs nicely with my newfound appreciation of nature and my life as a parent. I care about the future of this place for Further. I care about it for myself and for Hannah and for all the other parents. Nature, I care about Nature for every reason. Sometimes I admittedly wish I could just go back to fast food and laziness, but it's just not possible. I can't unlearn those things. Not as a parent. Not as a lover of food and Nature. Not with these eyes. Never again.- Jesse.