We are just in the process of harvesting our first beeves of the season this morning with the kill guy showing up shortly. The steers have been gaining nicely throughout the Summer and it is important in achieving optimum flavor on Grassfed animals to have the animals be “on the gain”. With the seasonal nature of grass this means that there is a definite “season” for harvesting beeves for that peak taste.
On the haying side, we have had a very wet Spring which delayed the first cutting of our Orchard Grass and Alfalfa which will delay our second cutting until about August 15th, some 10 days later than normal.
We had a very unusual hail storm, yes hail, yesterday. It was a half inch in 10 minutes and then gone. For a valley which gets 9” of moisture a year, most of it in the form of snow, this was a concentrated event.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Friday, July 2, 2010
The Ellensburg Record on June 30th had a very interesting article supporting the trend of people being more and more concerned about what they eat and the "Practice being driven by concerns over safety, ethics of food processing industry". Check out their article:
No middle man: Killing your own food
Practice being driven by concerns over safety, ethics of food processing industry
WEST CONCORD, Minn. (MCT) — As she drove past farm after lush, sprawling farm, Rebekah Leonhart had 65 miles to change her mind and head back home to Minneapolis.
But she’d already spent weeks preparing herself for what she considered an opportunity too important to pass up — the chance to kill and process her own chicken.
After suiting up in rubber boots, gloves and aprons at the southern Minnesota poultry farm, Leonhart and her two classmates headed toward the back room where four 8-week-old Cornish Cross birds awaited their fate. Leonhart took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“I’m very grief-stricken already,” she said, the tears welling up. “But I totally get it. There’s so much reverence that a farm like this puts into raising animals, then on top of it they have the task of killing them. Even if you do it every day, it can’t be easy for anybody.” Driven by concerns about safety and ethics, a growing number of people across the country are getting closer to their food. New faces show up at farmers markets to meet the men and women who grew their vegetables and produce. Others plant gardens for the first time, or build coops in their backyards to raise their own fowl. In Minneapolis, the number of permits issued to raise chickens in the city has more than quadrupled since 2006.
But the latest, and perhaps most surprising, trend of the local food movement — killing and processing your own meat.
In response, Callister Farm in West Concord held two three-hour classes this month, charging customers $40 and providing them with possibly the only opportunity in the area to learn the process — from kill to freezer — from a professional.
“More and more people are taking responsibility for the food they put in their mouths and they want to know where it comes from,” said Lori Callister, co-owner of the fifth-generation free-range poultry farm. “If they’re going to eat meat, they feel they should see for themselves how it’s done and what it’s like.”
The kill: never easy
As Callister told her students what was about to happen, she agreed that the process, especially the kill, is never easy.
“I think when we get to the point where it doesn’t bother us anymore, then we probably better find another profession,” she said. “But we realize it’s the first step, it has to be done, so we try to do it as humanely as we can.”
When the first 3 1/2-pound chicken was removed from the crate and placed upside down into a traffic cone — squawking and fighting for its life — Leonhart left the room.
Classmate Becca Griffith of Minneapolis teared up and clenched her fists while Alan Callister slit the bird’s jugular vein with a sharp knife. The chicken bobbed up and down inside the cone, a natural nervous system response. Within a minute, it lost consciousness and bled to death.
Marilyn Nelson of St. Paul was the only one in the class able to kill a chicken. After thanking her bird, Nelson did the deed with one swift movement across the its neck. Although she recently had a chicken as a pet in her St. Paul backyard, and had never killed an animal before, she appeared relaxed and at peace.
“It’s part of the process,” she said. “I think this class will help me make more informed decisions as a consumer and make better choices for my family and myself.”
The Callisters spent little time advertising the classes because they wanted to gauge interest, keep classes small and see how the first few went before deciding to offer more. Four attended the first class, and eight, including a family of four, went to the second.
No more eggs?
If customers and the growing number of people raising backyard chickens are any indication, the Callisters will be asked to hold the class again and again.
Since Audrey Matson opened the Eggplant Urban Farm Supply store in April, the St. Paul business, which promotes and sells supplies for backyard farming in the city, has been getting inquiries about processing.
“The big question is what to do with the chickens when they’re no longer laying eggs,” Matson said. “A lot of people who are meat eaters are willing to think about the possibility of eating them and want to know how to do their own processing.”
Tamara Jackman processed her first chicken a few years ago, when one of her egg-layers was mauled by a dog. This spring, Jackman raised three broilers, and, using a kill cone made from a plastic jug, slaughtered them in her Minneapolis backyard.
She still has five egglaying hens. A few rarely produce eggs, and she has a decision to make: Keep them as pets, or turn them into “chicken and dumplings.”
“People in the city are so removed from how food happens,” she said. “It wasn’t an easy thing for me to do, but in commercial operations, they electrocute chickens. I don’t see how that’s an inherently more humane process.”
At the Callister processing class, once the birds were dead and their heads removed, the three women participated in the next steps. Leonhart pulled her chicken out of the cone by its feet and carried it to the scalding tank, a 145-degree bath that loosens the feathers within a minute.
Next, the birds went into the picker, a high-powered machine that rotates rapidly while several rubber fingers remove the feathers without damaging the bird. After about 30 seconds, a naked chicken shoots out of the drum onto a stainless steel table, where a few remaining feathers are plucked by hand. Finally, it’s time to remove the insides.
With each step the process became easier for Griffith, who even proudly stashed away the heart, liver, gizzard and other scraps for her dog, a white Chihuahua named Ollie.
While waiting for their birds to chill in an ice bath, the women took a break to talk about their experience and snack on a pasta salad made with Callister smoked turkey.
Leonhart said she felt grateful for the opportunity, despite not being able to kill her chicken. Asked how she planned to prepare the bird, she said it would have to be a special occasion with friends — and plenty of garlic, lemon and vegetables.
“I also don’t really feel like eating chicken right now,” she added.
MCT
ABOVE: Alan Callister, co-owner of Callister Farm, right, puts a live chicken in a cone where its neck will be slit and the chicken allowed to bleed to death. Also pictured are students Rebekah Leonhart, from left, Becca Griffith and Marilyn Nelson, and Alan’s wife Lori. BELOW: Rebekah Leonhart carries her chicken from the scalder to the picker to remove the feathers during a class at Callister Farm in West Concord, Minn.
MCT
Students at Callister Farm in West Concord, Minn., take the freshly killed, plucked chickens onto the eviscerating line to de-gut them
No middle man: Killing your own food
Practice being driven by concerns over safety, ethics of food processing industry
WEST CONCORD, Minn. (MCT) — As she drove past farm after lush, sprawling farm, Rebekah Leonhart had 65 miles to change her mind and head back home to Minneapolis.
But she’d already spent weeks preparing herself for what she considered an opportunity too important to pass up — the chance to kill and process her own chicken.
After suiting up in rubber boots, gloves and aprons at the southern Minnesota poultry farm, Leonhart and her two classmates headed toward the back room where four 8-week-old Cornish Cross birds awaited their fate. Leonhart took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“I’m very grief-stricken already,” she said, the tears welling up. “But I totally get it. There’s so much reverence that a farm like this puts into raising animals, then on top of it they have the task of killing them. Even if you do it every day, it can’t be easy for anybody.” Driven by concerns about safety and ethics, a growing number of people across the country are getting closer to their food. New faces show up at farmers markets to meet the men and women who grew their vegetables and produce. Others plant gardens for the first time, or build coops in their backyards to raise their own fowl. In Minneapolis, the number of permits issued to raise chickens in the city has more than quadrupled since 2006.
But the latest, and perhaps most surprising, trend of the local food movement — killing and processing your own meat.
In response, Callister Farm in West Concord held two three-hour classes this month, charging customers $40 and providing them with possibly the only opportunity in the area to learn the process — from kill to freezer — from a professional.
“More and more people are taking responsibility for the food they put in their mouths and they want to know where it comes from,” said Lori Callister, co-owner of the fifth-generation free-range poultry farm. “If they’re going to eat meat, they feel they should see for themselves how it’s done and what it’s like.”
The kill: never easy
As Callister told her students what was about to happen, she agreed that the process, especially the kill, is never easy.
“I think when we get to the point where it doesn’t bother us anymore, then we probably better find another profession,” she said. “But we realize it’s the first step, it has to be done, so we try to do it as humanely as we can.”
When the first 3 1/2-pound chicken was removed from the crate and placed upside down into a traffic cone — squawking and fighting for its life — Leonhart left the room.
Classmate Becca Griffith of Minneapolis teared up and clenched her fists while Alan Callister slit the bird’s jugular vein with a sharp knife. The chicken bobbed up and down inside the cone, a natural nervous system response. Within a minute, it lost consciousness and bled to death.
Marilyn Nelson of St. Paul was the only one in the class able to kill a chicken. After thanking her bird, Nelson did the deed with one swift movement across the its neck. Although she recently had a chicken as a pet in her St. Paul backyard, and had never killed an animal before, she appeared relaxed and at peace.
“It’s part of the process,” she said. “I think this class will help me make more informed decisions as a consumer and make better choices for my family and myself.”
The Callisters spent little time advertising the classes because they wanted to gauge interest, keep classes small and see how the first few went before deciding to offer more. Four attended the first class, and eight, including a family of four, went to the second.
No more eggs?
If customers and the growing number of people raising backyard chickens are any indication, the Callisters will be asked to hold the class again and again.
Since Audrey Matson opened the Eggplant Urban Farm Supply store in April, the St. Paul business, which promotes and sells supplies for backyard farming in the city, has been getting inquiries about processing.
“The big question is what to do with the chickens when they’re no longer laying eggs,” Matson said. “A lot of people who are meat eaters are willing to think about the possibility of eating them and want to know how to do their own processing.”
Tamara Jackman processed her first chicken a few years ago, when one of her egg-layers was mauled by a dog. This spring, Jackman raised three broilers, and, using a kill cone made from a plastic jug, slaughtered them in her Minneapolis backyard.
She still has five egglaying hens. A few rarely produce eggs, and she has a decision to make: Keep them as pets, or turn them into “chicken and dumplings.”
“People in the city are so removed from how food happens,” she said. “It wasn’t an easy thing for me to do, but in commercial operations, they electrocute chickens. I don’t see how that’s an inherently more humane process.”
At the Callister processing class, once the birds were dead and their heads removed, the three women participated in the next steps. Leonhart pulled her chicken out of the cone by its feet and carried it to the scalding tank, a 145-degree bath that loosens the feathers within a minute.
Next, the birds went into the picker, a high-powered machine that rotates rapidly while several rubber fingers remove the feathers without damaging the bird. After about 30 seconds, a naked chicken shoots out of the drum onto a stainless steel table, where a few remaining feathers are plucked by hand. Finally, it’s time to remove the insides.
With each step the process became easier for Griffith, who even proudly stashed away the heart, liver, gizzard and other scraps for her dog, a white Chihuahua named Ollie.
While waiting for their birds to chill in an ice bath, the women took a break to talk about their experience and snack on a pasta salad made with Callister smoked turkey.
Leonhart said she felt grateful for the opportunity, despite not being able to kill her chicken. Asked how she planned to prepare the bird, she said it would have to be a special occasion with friends — and plenty of garlic, lemon and vegetables.
“I also don’t really feel like eating chicken right now,” she added.
MCT
ABOVE: Alan Callister, co-owner of Callister Farm, right, puts a live chicken in a cone where its neck will be slit and the chicken allowed to bleed to death. Also pictured are students Rebekah Leonhart, from left, Becca Griffith and Marilyn Nelson, and Alan’s wife Lori. BELOW: Rebekah Leonhart carries her chicken from the scalder to the picker to remove the feathers during a class at Callister Farm in West Concord, Minn.
MCT
Students at Callister Farm in West Concord, Minn., take the freshly killed, plucked chickens onto the eviscerating line to de-gut them
Where's the beef?? We are sold out of beef for 2010 but still have chicken, pork, lamb, and eggs. We are taking orders for 2011.
Our first cutting of Orchard grass is in the barn allbeit with a little rain. We are back to pouring the water to the fields to get the grass growing again. As most of you know this has been a very wet year compared to what we historically see.
Our first cutting of Orchard grass is in the barn allbeit with a little rain. We are back to pouring the water to the fields to get the grass growing again. As most of you know this has been a very wet year compared to what we historically see.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)