Foods Resource Bank

1.28.12  

Margaret Mead famously said, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, commited citizens can change the world.  Indeed it is the only thing that ever has."

The thoughtful and commited folks involved with the Foods Resource Bank (www.foodsresourcebank.org) stopped by the farm Saturday morning as part of a west coast tour. The group is based out of the Midwest, but it is really a global network of farmers, faith leaders and community change agents.

In the United States, church and community leaders work with growers through a wide variety of projects to grow a crop or create a food product, which is then sold.  The collaborative then decides which of the scores of projects in developing nations should receive the profits as a contribution to finance those efforts. 

Both the state-side projects and those in emerging economies are as diverse as a good summer garden, tailored to and by the climate, culture, competencies and creativity of those involved.

I thought these big growers from Indiana, Illinois and Iowa were going to think our small olive orchard was just a novelty. But these guys -- who farm hundreds of acres of corn and soybeans -- were fascinated by the idea of a "completely verticle" micro operation. 

Some of them had never seen an olive tree, and were astonished at the diversity of agriculture they had seen in their visit to the Central Valley.

In turn, I was equally impressed by their deep concern over the best way to feed a growing global population, and their common belief that their way wasn't the only way.  No one thought the best answer was to export a large scale highly mechanized production model as the Agri-CULTURE of the future.  And these were all guys with combines as big as the garage.

Rather, they were thoughtful and commited to working with their communities to help finance a network of learning and understanding, in which all involved benefit from the experience.

"FRB is the most meaningful thing I have ever done," one of them said, his big calloused hand gently gripping mine as he said goodbye.

Compassion can be a powerful force, if given the chance.

One intriguing part of the FRB model is that no one can say they don't have what it takes to help out, it just takes a little thought and commitment. 

 Rain Down...

1.20.12

  The dark clouds, the first showers, the steady drizzle were better than nothing. But the downpour on Friday night was a rush, a release, a gift so grand and so wet that it truly felt heaven-sent.

  The loud drumming on the metal roofs of the animal barn and the woodshop on either side of the house echoed sterographically through the orchard.  The waves of rain drops onto the grass sent off a muffled patter. And the rain hitting the naked branches of the elms, oaks and sycamores yielded a sharp but dull beat.

The parched ground welcomed every drop.  I thought I heard slurping.

This symphony, I decided, was the sound of an answered prayer.  

 Endless Advent

 12.30.11 

 We are still waiting.

  In November we were waiting for the olives to ripen so we could begin the harvest. The trees that were heavy with fruit looked pregnant, happy but burdened.  Eventually green became wheat became purple -- and the harvest yielded a golden offspring.

  The branches are now silvery.  Freed from the fruit, the limbs have rebounded skyward, showing the shiny undersides of the leaves -- a natural expression of the season.

  Still, we wait.

  While the orchard was blessed with early rains, the second half of November and all of December have been extraordinarily dry.  First, we saw the blue skies as an opportunity. To naturally capture nitrogen in the soil, we planted bell beans where we want to expand the orchard and plant vineyard.

  Still, the sun shone. So we disced the orchard, and planted clover to fix more nitrogen and crowd out the mid-summer weeds.  Then we mulched some of the younger trees with woodchips and we fixed some fence posts.

  Still, the doppler is sans green.  The cover crop seeds have not germinated and the pasture grass is starting to wilt.  The annual chore of coiling the irrigation hose -- accomplished in mid-Advent -- appears to have been premature.

  As 2011 comes to a close, the winter we need is not yet on the horizon.  Advent has ended, but we are still anxious. 

Then there was none 

October 2011

A fruit orchard grows more than fruit. Trees are habitat. And people are wild creatures, too.

When we planted our first olives in 1999, we figured the worst thing that could happen is we would be bad farmers living in a olive orchard. Our wildest dream was we would produce a product recognized among our peers for its quality, coveted by our customers for its taste... and that the orchard would be a place where birds and snakes and people would love to be.

Well, we are right on track on the quality oil thing (still learning, but that's the fun part). We have so many birds that we have to remind ourselves that we learned how to share in kindergarten.  And the snakes were no slouches in the reproduction category this wet year.

This year we also had the blessing to host a wedding -- and potluck feast and square dance and brew boasting and rock and roll blitz in the barn until 1 a.m. -- for two dear friends and their closest 130 humans. 

It was rewarding to see everyone enjoy the orchard in late afternoon, early evening and into the moon-filled night. White lights were laced through the trees.  Candle lanterns hung from the peach and apple trees. Solar lamps next to hay bales reminded people where the ground was.

The next morning a romantic fog hugged the tree tops -- and even the mess left behind was a testament to a once-in-a- lifetime event.

 August 2011

It isn't until this time of year that we really get a sense of what kind of harvest we will have.  The trees always have lots of blossoms, but most of them will not be perfected into fruit. And olives in their early stages are very small and the same color as the leaves.

But the fruit is now the size of small marbles, and getting bigger by the day.  This harvest won't be as large as last year's, but there are still plenty of fruit on the trees.  A good day weeding in the orchard (and fixing pipe chewed on by those wascally wabbits!) is enough to get us all excited about the harvest to come.

June 2011

That was one long winter, and who stole spring?

The bountiful rains that filled mountain reservoirs this last winter, also filled the pond and gave the orchard a good long, long drink.  Field work started late, and a cool spring gave us plenty of time to mow the orchard grass, finish pruning trees and getting the irrigation set up.  The trees blossomed in the latter half of May, at least 10 days later than a "typical" year.  The calendar aside, the trees seemed to love the extra moisture, and we loved the extra dose of green.

December 2010

We completed harvest on December 13. It was a dance to remember -- between storms, hoping for a couple of sunny days  and (don't repeat this) a north wind to dry out the mud.  The last day of picking was huge, requiring three trips with a loaded pickup and trailer to the mill.  It took most of the rest of the month to clean up, return borrowed equipment and heal our sore muscles.   By Christmas we had transferred oil into steel tanks and begin to do a little early bottling for those who either can't wait or love the sharpness of new oil. 

November 2010 

 ... And then they are ripe.  Harvest days have supplanted -- or at least supplemented -- Christmas around here in terms of celebrations.  People come together, enjoy the orchard, the sun, the fellowship, the salami.  But even those who are generous enough to help pick, don't know the magic of the miller.

It is an ancient art with a modern twist. Lewis Johnson, our miller at Butte View Olive Oil Mill in Palermo (near Oroville, not in Sicily), is the best of old and new worlds.  He knows his switches and centrifuges, but he also knows my olives from his.

This year, early on a Sunday morning, Lewis opened his mill for us. None of his other growers were ready, but we were -- and that meant, he was.  Rain or shine, in this case rain, he was there to off load our bins burdened with purple drupes, and move them gently into the washer, then the mill.  He seemed more eager than us to use a small plastic cup to catch the first golden-green liquid to spill from the separator.  It was fruity, smooth on the tongue, and as Lewis said with a smile, "has plenty of heat."

It is not a lost art -- olive milling -- it is an evolving art. Now you need to understand three-phase electricity and air pollution districts standards, as well as polyphenols. Art none the less, motivated by a desire to produce, to create, to enjoy. 

October 2010  

Any parent who has ever waited for a child to be born knows how we feel this time of year.  About mid-September the trees even start to look pregnant,  The branches droop as the olives plump up and convert sugar to oil. The sagging branches reveal the silver underside of the leaves, making healthy trees look stressed, the way a woman sighs frequently as the due date approaches.  A seasonal worry sets in -- over a dry north wind that can make the olives shrivel or the flocks of hungry black birds that come when the tomato, corn, wheat and safflower fields have all been harvested and disced under.  Some rain would be nice -- if it isn't too much and the mud can dry before harvesters arrive.  We try to keep our concern from escalating into anxiety. 

We remember those days -- when we needed a stethoscope to listen to Sam and Carly -- and how the expectation made the event all the sweeter.

This year, virtually all crops are two to three weeks behind schedule.  And the same is true for our olives -- more green that should be purple, given the calendar. A real spring (see below) followed by a cool summer means we will  be getting closer to winter before harvest is behind us.  This year's harvest is feeling like that baby who has blown right passed the due date with little sign of wanting to leave the womb.

July 2010

Are we extra virgin? Is anyone?  The folks at UC Davis released a study this week reporting  that most imported (read Mediterranean) olive oil was not extra or even virgin -- even if it said so on the label.  That is, the oil either had defects (like it was rancid) or even more commonly, it was cut with mineral or nut oils.

The best way to make sure you get the real thing is to know your supplier.  But you don't have to take our word for it.  We earned gold medals this year from the Yolo County and the Los Angeles County International Olive Oil competitions.  Both events require chemical analysis to independently document our extra virginness -- er, well -- that we are extra virgin.

The gold medals mean that among the "extra virgins" we have outstanding characteristics, like fruitiness, grassiness, freshness beyond reasonable expectations.

Beyond flavor, it is the "extra virgin" in olive oil that makes it so good for your health.

Don't be tempted by absurdly low prices or oils from romantic sounding locations.  Get the real thing from real people. Trust your brother.

2010: An Actual Spring!

It makes sense that if you endure an honest to goodness winter, you deserve an honest to goodness spring.  Typically, spring is 10 seconds long, that brief interlude between cold winter storms and the first 90 degree day accompanied by a strong north wind. 

We usually have to work fast during that 10 seconds, to mow weeds, unfurl drip irrigation hoses and check for leaks and clogged emiters.  This year, spring rains gave us plenty of time to make the transition, and the trees really enjoyed the April -- even May -- showers.

We also put in some extra tractor time this spring.  In the fall, we planted bell beans in the orchard to naturally capture nitrogen from the air and fix it into the soil.  The beans grew three feet tall, and hords of beautiful bees were attracted to the white and purple flowers.  The plants were turned under with a disc and harrow, and now that nitrogen is available for the trees.

Blossom also was about two weeks late this year because of the cool weather, but it was still a great show of pale flourescents.  It will be another couple of weeks before we have a good sense how many of those flowers have successfully made the transformation to a baby olive. 

2009 Harvest 

Harvest is truly a blessing, and this year's fruit looks spectacular. The real bounty, however, is the fellowship of friends and family who visit and take part in this traditional event – a true Thanksgiving.

The volume in 2009 was less than half the harvest in November 2008.  But the quality of fruit was terrific, and the smaller volume allowed us to pay special attention to maturity and quality.

 2011 Fundraisers & Events

Frate Sole really is rooted in the community, and some of our greatest pleasures are participating in and supporting "community" in all of its dimensions. 

Spring is a busy time for fundraising events and Frate Sole continued its tradition of contributing to community projects. A gift basket was donated to the Yolo County Resource Conservation District auction, which supports scholarships for high school agriculture programs.

We contributed oil to the Christian Brothers High School Annual Auction and Dinner and the St. James Wine Tasting (and now olive oil tasting) facility fundraiser, as well as its Christmas Auction.

Frate Sole also was prominently featured at several Olio Nuovo (new oil) tasting events, sponsored by Rominger -West Winery. 2010 Awards 

Frate Sole won two gold medals this year in the two competitions we entered.

YOLO COUNTY.  The first gold was in our hometown contest at the Yolo County Fair.  We are proud of our performance in this event -- and equally proud that our county officials and regional producers have built a solid local competition.

LA INTERNATIONAL.  We also won a gold medal at the Los Angeles County Fair International Olive Oil Competition.  This is a much larger event, and we are proud of our consistent performance in this match up of the world's best producers.

SACRAMENTO MAGAZINE.  We were pleasantly surprised to hear that the editors of Sacramento Magazine gave Frate Sole a "Best of" award this year. For those who like to eat locally producd food -- and the capital is just on the other side of the river -- the award is nice validation that you can also eat the best!