HARVESTING TRADITIONS HARVESTING TRADITION Written and produced by BENJAMIN LESTER Writing Edited by Peter Kobel and Kate Henessy Photography, Layout, and design by Benjamin Lester www.localgrain.org In loving Memory of My Father, James Matthew Lester and For My Mother, Margaret Lester Copyright Farm Feast 2018 and All Rights Reserved my step Mother Nancy Lester My three wonderful, truly good parents Words can’t sumate how fortunate I have been but hopefully this book can. Table of Contents 1. Introduction 2. Culling The Harvest 3. Reverence, Connection and Gratitutude 4. The Essential Storm 5.Our Great Grains 6. Heritage Wheat 7.Milling 8. Hielroom Corn 9. Measurement 10. Paddy Rice 11. Storage 12.Beans 13.Temperature 14.Oats, buckwheat 15. fermentation 16.Heritage Grain Brewing 17. rye 18.Timing ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This book would not be possible without the tireless work and dedication of our farmers. Alan Zuchowski, Stan, Simon, and Abbie White, Sara and Matt Williams, (etc...) My company My Family Community, members, and supporters Hosts Capsicum ovatum DC. Capsicum petenense Standl. Capsicum pomiferum Mart. ex Steud. Capsicum purpureum Vahl ex Hornem. Capsicum pyramidale Mill. Capsicum quitense Willd. ex Roem. & Schult. Capsicum silvestre Vell. Capsicum sphaerium Willd. Capsicum tetragonum Mill. Capsicum tomatiforme Fingerh. ex Steud. Capsicum torulosum Hornem. Capsicum tournefortii Besser Capsicum ustulatum Paxton “The Most Wonderful Story I know is, perhaps, that this bread, thousands of years old though it is, is not yet finished in the baking. Botanist, famer, miller, and baker are stillexperimenting with it. The entire story of bread goes very deep-its social and technical, religious, political, and scientific story” H.E Jacob “Six Thousand Years of Bread” The Richness of Connection We absorb the most valuable lessons from our parents through how they live their lives. In the fall of 2000, when I was 19, I was down in my basement music studio at my moth- My father, a computer scientist, loved his kitchen, revered heritage grains, and always er’s, practicing percussion, when I was called by my mother to pick up the phone. It was sought out foods with connection, flavor, and vitality. His father, the Head of Alcohol my dad. (My parents had separated.) I couldn’t call him back? It was extremely unusual Studies at Rutgers, became passionate about baking after a trip through France in the for my father to call me like that, and I was concerned. It was not unfounded. He had early 1950s. Upon return, he lined his home oven with fire bricks to simulate the baking been experiencing stomach pains for several months and had been to the doctor again. quality of the ovens he saw in Europe. He boiled bagels, fermented doughs, and inject- The news was not good. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and would most ed steam into the bake to facilitate a proper Maillard reaction in the crust. likely lose the battle to it in the next six months. Ancient wheats and heirloom rice lined our cupboards when I was growing up. My fa- My world was rocked. My father was my best friend. At 53, he was recently remarried, ther used a burr coffee mill to grind his own flours and always found the kitchen to be enjoying his life more than ever, and could not believe the news. Once pancreatic cancer a primary source of both pleasure and contentment. He sought food that was special, is detectable, it’s almost always too late. My step mother, Nancy, sister Jessica, and I took authentic, and meaningful. While traveling in Costa Rica in the 1990s, he befriended a care of my father throughout his illness, and he passed away the following May. I was coffee farmer and stayed with him for several nights. They wrote each other afterward, devastated, but I didn’t realize how much. I’d been holding back much of my grief for half and my father bought green beans from his farm and roasted them in his kitchen for a year and I wasn’t about to stop, although these things have every way of catching up My Mother and My Grandmother were both profesional visual many years. with you, and in time of course they did. artists and my mother also worked in community organiz- ing and as the Director of Housing for the Mentally Ill Metro I roasted coffee in my father’s little old toaster oven until it finally gave out last year. I’d been accepted to Bennington College the year before, and while my father was sick Boston. They were both great role models and in addition my This is how food creates meaning in our lives. It is the connection we have to the history decided to matriculate the following autumn. When I arrived at Bennington I was still grandmother on my fathers side Ruth who worked as an editor or “heritage” of our food source and of all the people connected with it. holding myself together, but over the first month or two I began to fall into severe depres- on the sion. I simply could not move my body at times. It was as if my body was leaden. Jefferson Papers for 25 years was also a loving an supportive My father was also an accomplished flutist, and initially I followed his musical inclina- part of my upbringing. tions more than his gustatory ones, pursuing music as my main creative pursuit from Resilience and Reconfiguration the time I was about 10. I was always inspired and nourished by his love of cooking though, and I grew up in a sort of craft kitchen; an immersion experience. Breakfast Despite my intense grief, I somehow found myself with a new friend. I didn’t realize it at consisted of homemade pancakes, crepes, bagels, or muffins. Lunch was leftovers the time but in hindsight I think I was drawn to her because she helped me remember punctuated by milk shakes and yogurt smoothies, and dinner could be anything from and feel connected to my father. Adrie was smart, well-read, creative, and loved food gumbo to Buddha’s delight, spaghetti and meatballs, or pad thai. All were made from and cooking. Introverted but sweet and feisty, she was my new best friend and eventual the best ingredients he could find, and inspired by his travels and the people and food partner in next level food exploration. he encountered around the world. Keeping the memories of my father alive was and still is very important to me. I have Dinner and baked goods were essential to a good day. He sought out international come to realize that the intersection of the memories of my father and the shared love of markets and local organic food co-ops, as well as up-and-coming bakeries to satisfy cooking with my new partner was a profound way for me to keep my father’s spirit alive. his craving for authentic and interesting foods. He had a small herb and vegetable gar- Food slowly became the centerpiece of my life and then my work. I now think that my den and always stopped at roadside farm stands for the best seasonal produce. He father’s passion for cooking and baking in the kitchen was his way of staying connected brought home organic yogurt from a small dairy in New Hampshire and explained to to his father. me that “this was the good stuff.” My friends liked to stay for dinner, though it was a strange experience for most of them, having grown up on frozen factory-made dinners In my early twenties I was still deeply connected to and working in music. My father had and school cafeteria lunch. They could taste something different. They’d say, ”Your dad believed in me and supported me throughout my musical journey. I felt I had to continue cooks some weird food, but it’s good.” My best friend from high school, Rob, and I al- my music without him. But food allowed me to find my way back to him. Food soon be- ways appreciated that we had it good when we were at my dad’s table. There was no came my new calling. doubt about it. Aᴅᴅᴅᴅ ᴅᴅᴅ I ᴅᴅᴅᴅᴅ ᴅᴅ Sᴅᴅᴅᴅ Aᴅᴅᴅᴅᴅᴅ in the summer of 2002. We started our first organic vegetable garden and grew heirloom tomatoes whose size and lusciousness I will never forget. We frequented farmers markets and discovered Pioneer Valley’s incredible wealth of small passionate artisans working tireless- ly to make nourishing and meaningful food available for their families and community. Adrie went to culinary school at CCI, and I studied alongside as we began to work in restaurants and bakeries and to dream of a space where we could offer our own spin on genuine, taste-sizzling, and nourishing foods; a space for community food culture to grow, evolve, and thrive. Early in 2005, we began to discuss the idea of selling baked goods at farmers markets. We looked into the licensing and production process, and it turned out to be a reasonable summer project. We licensed the residential kitchen we rented to produce baked goods for sale around the valley. To our absolute surprise and delight, our little bakery, Wheatberry, would be a tremendous hit. We sold out at farmer’s markets every week. We got a wholesaler’s license so we could sell to retail outlets as well and scored one wholesale account after another. We hadn’t planned to pursue this as a full-time business, but we couldn’t ignore the fact that people clearly wanted what we had to offer.