Ireally love words, but one of my favorite words—local—is really causing some confusion these days. Some folks think it’s too narrow a definition to describe the farm-based food revolution taking place across America. They prefer words like “regional” and “sustainable.” Instead of looking at a specific radius for measuring what is local, they want to cast a wider, more flexible net because, after all, just because it’s grown down the road doesn’t mean your local farmer knows beans about growing great food.

Maybe I’m naïve, but I think it’s just a matter of semantics in the end. It seems to me the attempt to define these words really amounts to a crutch, another manifestation of our difficulty in embracing personal responsibility for our food choices. First we became divorced from the sources of our food, unaware of the connections between farm and plate. Now, as we struggle to reestablish those connections, we want labels to help us define and judge the worth of those connections.

The problem is that food doesn’t grow with labels. Judging whether the food we eat is good for us requires the use not only of all our senses (vision being used to look at the food itself, not its labels), but the use of our common sense as well. We must think about our food, not just read about it. When we start thinking about the food—where it was grown, what its life cycle was like, what stressors it’s been subject to, what its best use is, who grew it, what that person thinks about food, how it got from the farm to our hand—then the arbitrary labels and lines on maps and numbers that seek to reduce what we eat to a socially acceptable equation start to dissolve.

The Chesapeake Bay is the largest estuary in the U.S. and one of the country’s most important ecosystems. The edible riches of the Bay have supported people for thousands of years. Four hundred years ago, the Bay was home to the first permanent European settlement in the New World. The agricultural regions that stretch from the Blue Ridge to the shores of the Bay and its tributaries, and the fisheries within those waterways, are interdependent, creating a complex watershed and, in turn, our natural foodshed.

This is the region that Edible Chesapeake celebrates. We can call it local or regional. We can call it sustainable—that’s certainly a goal of small farmers and Bay conservationists looking to rebuild our local food system. But let’s not allow distances or labels to get in the way of embracing the region that is our foodshed. In fact, if you think about it, nature has defined it for us, using no words whatsoever.

LIQUID ASSETS

BY WARREN RICHARD

GEMS ON THE LOCAL VINES

As summer’s heat slowly gives way to fall’s crisp breezes and brilliant colors, we may not realize that wine grapes, like other autumn crops, are ready for harvest, too. Maybe the only thing better than enjoying locally grown fare with a bottle of wine produced from a local vineyard, is enjoying it with a bottle of wine made with grapes that we ourselves helped harvest. Folks who enjoy visiting pick-your-own farms for apples or pumpkins in fall may also want to consider pitching in with the harvest at a local winery.

While California is the largest producer of wine in the United States—and most wine drinkers can probably name several California labels they enjoy—every state in the country has at least one winery. Here in the Chesapeake, we are fortunate to have at least 120 wineries in Virginia and 26 in Maryland. In fact, Virginia is the fifth-largest producer of wine in the nation.

The area’s potential to produce quality wines was first recognized by Thomas Jefferson, who planted European wine grapes at his home in Monticello. The American Revolution and diseased vines ended his experiment. But he would be proud of what Virginia produces today. Six viticulture regions in Virginia now successfully grow wine grapes that include chardonnay, merlot, cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, and pinot grigio. Popularly grown hybrid grapes include seyval blanc and vidal blanc, and the native varietal, cynthiana norton, is also being found in more vineyards.

Terrain and climate dictate which varietals can be grown on a particular piece of property. The winemaker who would prefer to grow sauvignon blanc may have to focus on something else that can be sustained in the vineyard. Virginia’s climate typically resembles that of the Bordeaux region of France, which explains why most of the viniferous grapes grow well in the state. However, subtle climate changes between vineyards can affect the outcome. While it may be hot and dry in one region, another region just two hours away may be experiencing more rain and humidity.

Knowing when to harvest is almost an art form. Al and Cheryl Kellert, winemakers and owners of Gray Ghost Vineyards in Amissville, Virginia, explain that while scientific methods can provide useful indicators to suggest that grapes are ready for harvest, taste is the ultimate determinant. For this, an educated palate and years of experience are required. In fact, the Kellerts begin to track the fruit for its readiness at least four to five weeks ahead of harvest time. They usually know three weeks prior to harvest that the grapes can be picked, and this can begin as early as August.

The earliest grapes to be harvested are usually the white grapes, beginning with seyval blanc, followed by chardonnay, vidal blanc, and riesling. Red wine grapes benefit from longer periods on the vine, and the king of red varietals, cabernet sauvignon, is harvested as the autumn leaves begin to decorate the local landscape in October. Some vineyards may be harvesting their white wines a bit early this year due to the area’s drought. It is more than likely, however, that red wine grapes will hang on the vines through October.

Several local vineyards welcome volunteers at harvest time. The Kellerts at Gray Ghost Vineyards currently manage the largest volunteer program in Virginia. They started the program after a visit to a Florida vineyard where volunteers actually paid the vineyard to harvest the grapes. The Kellerts turned this idea around. Volunteers enjoy the harvest experience; in return, they are paid with a logo t-shirt, lunch and wine, and the opportunity to pre-order a case of the wine produced from the day’s harvest at a discount.

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For the Kellerts, the volunteer program has allowed them to develop relationships with their customers, many of whom have been faithful harvesters for years. For the consumer, this is an invaluable up-close-and-personal experience with the winemaking process. Volunteers “never look at a bottle of wine the same way after harvesting,” says Cheryl Kellert. Having harvested chardonnay at Gray Ghost Vineyards for the past five years, I know I never miss an opportunity when I pour a bottle of Gray Ghost Chardonnay to point out to family and friends that my hands harvested the very grapes that produced this wine!

Only a handful of vineyards harvest with volunteers instead of paid labor. However, the Kellerts have observed that traveling workers are less likely to treat the delicate vines with care as they rush through the harvest at one vineyard in order to move on to the next as soon as possible. Trained volunteers tend to be more careful with the vines and their delicate canes and are more gentle when depositing grape clusters into storage lugs.

Once they sign up, volunteers are contacted when a particular varietal is ready for harvest. The process begins at sunrise on the appointed day. Fresh coffee and a substantial continental breakfast welcome eager volunteer harvesters. After a brief training session, the Kellerts arm their volunteers with snippers and gardening gloves. Harvesters head out in teams into the damp, foggy chill to the appropriate lots to gather the day’s clusters of gems. Time seems to fly, and the whole day is filled with the most exquisite of sensory experiences—the spectacular sunrise, the smell of the vines, the warming of the day as the suns dries the morning dew from the canopy of grape leaves. And, of course, the taste of the fruit. Volunteers expecting the familiar taste of Concord grapes are often surprised. Delicate skins give way to a ripe, juicy sweetness and concentrated flavors. If you close your eyes, it’s not hard to imagine a glass of these precious gems with a favorite meal or a special someone.

Signing up can be as easy as walking into a tasting room to ask whether the vineyard uses volunteers to harvest. In addition to Gray Ghost Vineyards, Willowcroft Farm Vineyard, Veramar Vineyard, and Savoy Lee Winery also use volunteers. If you are interested in a Maryland harvest, consider Basignani Winery or Sugar Loaf Mountain Vineyard. You’ll become part of a process first envisioned by Jefferson and now undergoing a renaissance. And remember, you will never look at a bottle of wine the same way again.

EDIBLE ELECTORATE

BY WENDY WASSERMAN

IOWA CAUCUSES: NOTES FROM THE FIELD

I live in Iowa. I used to live in DC, for nearly 15 years, and now I live in Iowa. But before the Iowa clichés start flying, let me make it clear that Iowa’s countryside is NOT flat (we’ve got lovely rolling hills, thank you), we do not grow potatoes (that’s Idaho) and not everyone thinks ethanol will save the world (frankly, it’s been wreaking havoc on corn prices). And for those of you who are having trouble with your Midwestern geography and think that Washington, DC is the undeniable center of the universe, I have three words for you that are especially pertinent to this season: Iowa Presidential Caucuses.

Iowa takes serious pride in being one of the first states to get a stab at the presidential selection process. We grill presidential hopefuls on politics, policy and position papers as we watch them sweat through a steak fry, suffer through yet another pancake breakfast and slurp pie shakes. We prefer our candidates to have fresh ideas, yet to understand the local issues and what they mean on the global scene (and vice versa). We expect the candidates to be clever, and understand what Iowa has to offer. And, we expect them to be full of surprises.

We expect the same with our food, too. In fact, Iowa is one of the country’s best kept secrets for local, artisanal food and independent restaurants. We have a strong food heritage that is completely outside commodity crops and the legendary meat-on-a-stick. In fact, Iowa is a major apple state (we bred the first red delicious), has over sixty wineries, and is producing incredible charcuterie treats like blue cheese and prosciutto (look for Maytag cheese and La Quercia prosciutto at the specialty counters next to the fancy Italian stuff ). So when you inside-the-beltway types come out to Iowa over the next few months, here are a few places you might want to make room for in your schedule.

PHOENIX CAFÉ, Grinnell
“Iowa has lots of nooks and crannies,” says Kamal Hommouda, owner and chef at the Phoenix Café in Grinnell, a town that screams “campaign photo op” with its classic center square and handsome 19th century architecture. The café itself is a warm renovation of a historic house, quaintly set on the corner of the town square that is ringed by historic buildings. The dining area is split into a few semi-private rooms, perfect for concentrated meetings or even town hall gatherings to reach out to some of Grinnell’s 9,000 voters (who, by the way, were split nearly 50-50 in the last presidential campaign). “The food is different than anyone would expect,” boasts Hommouda with a sly chuckle. Among the house specialties is homemade baklava, baked on site several times a week. “We can compete with any major metro area because here [in Iowa] we do it simple and we do it good.”

REDHEAD, Solon
Kim Zesiger, chef and owner of Redhead in Solon, agrees that Iowa is filled with local food delights. Zesiger moved to Iowa from Chicago a few years ago, where her small catering business specialized in fusing Indian influences with the traditions of her southern roots (Zesiger originally hails from Tennessee). “A lot of us who have these [restaurants in Iowa] are not just influenced by the Midwest. There is an international influence, and there is amazing food. All it takes is a creative mind or two to make things happen, and we have them here.” Zesiger’s specialty is to take Iowa’s own ingredients and render them unpredictable. One example: sweet corn—seemingly Iowa’s emblem—which Zesiger mixes with Indian-style raw sugar called jaggery to make a bang-the-gavel good ice cream. Even her standby burger is not beef, but buffalo meat, which she gets from nearby Jordan Creek Farms, whose owner, Bill Leefers, is also Redhead’s landlord.

DEVOTAY and THE MOTLEY COW, Iowa City
Iowa City, considered by many to be the most liberal spot in Iowa, is also becoming a go-to destination for local food. Anchored by Hamburg Inn #2 (the requisite Iowa City campaign stop, if only for its show-stopping pie shakes), there is a bubbling restaurant scene on the north side of town along Linn Street. One stop is Devotay, owned by 5th generation Iowan Kim McWane Friese and her husband, Kurt Michael Friese, who is the chef as well as the regional governor for Slow Food USA. The Frieses source as much as they can locally, including off-season where they get fresh greens from Organic Greens, a local farm growing greenhouse produce all winter long. Devotay is the perfect spot to wash away the campaign dirt with a fine glass of wine and signature tapa dishes, like dates wrapped in proscuitto from Grass Run Farm, a family farm in Northeastern Iowa.

Devotay will be getting a new neighbor in December when The Motley Cow, an Iowa City favorite, settles into its new location across the street. “The Cow,” as we locals call it, does pulled pork with a cilantro sauce that is certainly worth spending the night for. “We like to say we do as much local food as possible,” says David Wieseneck, chef and owner of the Motley Cow. “We say it because that’s what we do.”

In Iowa, we get local talk with our local food. Maybe the candidates might want to stop by and see how it’s done?

Wendy Wasserman as a displaced Washingtonian living thousands of miles from the Chesapeake watershed, admits craving a local, fresh Maryland crab every now and again. She is publisher of Edible Iowa River Valley.

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