Seventeen years ago, I left a great job teaching at a prestigious northeast culinary school to move back to Iowa and be an executive chef at a Holiday Inn. It was difficult to find people, in Vermont or Iowa, who did not think I was certifiably insane. Those who thought they knew Iowa claimed, “There’s no there, there!” And those who did not asked, “Iowa? Isn’t that where they grow potatoes?”

Because I had spent my undergraduate years in Iowa, I was accustomed to the rest of the country, especially folks from the coasts, referring to it as one of the “flyover states.” Iowans, a group among whom I now proudly count myself, are fine with that — as long as such critics do just fly over. We’ll wave. We’re Iowans. East Coast has Broadway, West Coast has Hollywood, and Iowa has people — damn fine people.

The other thing Iowa has is Agriculture — and I use that capital “A” deliberately. We produce more pork, more corn, and more eggs than any other state in the union, and come in second or third in virtually every other commodity crop save oranges. And who knows? Global climate change may change that too.

What the people who wanted to put me in a rubber room a decade and a half ago didn’t see, which I did, was the massive potential for local, sustainable, community-based food systems in Iowa. After all, it is home to 3 million people who still have spiritual and familial ties to the finest soil on the planet.

One of the lessons I’ve learned from almost 30 years in food service is that fresh tastes best. Sounds obvious until you look beneath the surface a bit and realize that what passes for fresh in many places is really not so fresh, and many “foods” currently available on store shelves can be measured in half-life rather than shelf life. Ninety-five percent of Iowa’s food is imported, and it travels an average of 1,500 miles to get to our plates. This in a state that can grow anything that can grow outside the tropics. Doesn’t matter how fast your planes, trains, and trucks are; if it traveled 1,500 miles, it’s not fresh.

My thought was, the closer it is to my kitchen door, the fresher it’s going to be. Seemed simple enough. At the time, the farmers’ market was right outside the hotel’s back door, but disagreements with management kept me from buying much from the market then. So 12 years ago I opened  Devotay, a tiny, quirky little restaurant serving Spanish-style food made from local ingredients (wherever feasible) smack in the belly of the agribusiness beast. There were ADM and IBP (now Tyson) and Quaker plants less than 30 minutes away. There was one other business I could find that endeavored to buy locally (the renowned New Pioneer food co-op), and when I walked through the farmers’ market in my white chef’s coat, people looked at me funny. “What’s a chef doing in the farmers’ market?” I could almost hear them thinking.

I only knew two farmers personally, but I knew people who knew people, and gradually Devotay built a network of local growers we now lovingly refer to as the Devotay Local Farm Partners, who are recognized in name and image at the restaurant’s entrance (“The Hall of Farm”). What success and accolades Devotay has received I owe primarily to them (and to the best dang staff in town). In addition, we built a one-acre garden of our own under the loving care of my wife and business partner, Kim McWane Friese. Guests never cease to be pleased and impressed with the greens, tomatoes, peppers, ground cherries, and more that come from the Devotay Gardens.

But getting from there to here was not a straight line. Opening a small restaurant serving Spanish food — which most guests thought would be like Mexican — with no TVs, no fry-o-lators, no smoking, and no light beer in a college town, seemed to many to be further evidence of my deteriorating mental and emotional condition. But it is said that nothing persists like persistence, and we were convinced that if we focused on the food, everything else would fall into place.

The food I bought locally was simply better. It looked, smelled, and tasted better, and there is mounting evidence (more here) that much of it is more healthful as well. And it has economic and marketing benefits too. There is a strong multiplier effect to keeping my dollar in my community, and my clientele appreciate our dedication to the health and well-being of the area.

Connections to those first two farmers, Simone Delaty of Wellman and James Nisly of Kalona, led to friendships with many others, such as Susan Jutz, who runs the organic CSA Local Harvest with Simone, and Nick Wallace, who raises grass-finished beef.

Onward the connections went. Along the way I learned that buying all my ingredients off the back of a truck from U.S. Foodservice is definitely easier, and often cheaper. But that food is never of a higher quality, and it takes its toll. Any business can take great strides when it stops looking at price and starts looking at cost. Same holds true for individuals and families. For just a moment set aside the price on the tag, and take a good hard look at the hidden costs of cheap food.

Chefs, you may think it cheaper to buy that commodity beef from Sysco. Moms and dads, it may seem more convenient to get the cheap grocery-store apples from New Zealand than to visit the nearby orchard, or to get the frozen entrée rather than making a simple pasta dish at home. But imagine the impact on our environment and health-care system of all that processed food. Think of the fuel used to ship an apple halfway around the planet. Then consider the benefits of taking a walk through an orchard with your children, of having them learn at your apron strings, of shaking the hand that raised that steer.

We are all co-producers, Wendell Berry tells us, all a part of the interconnected web of food production, and are therefore just as culpable for its ills as the agribusiness corporate executives are.

I am a gastronome. It’s a fancy word for someone who makes a study of food, has a passion, even a reverence for it.  Slow Food founder Carlo Petrini pointed out recently that, “A gastronome who is not also an environmentalist is an idiot. An environmentalist who is not also a gastronome is, well, sad.”

In the past seventeen years I have seen an awakening here in Iowa, and I have undergone one myself. Where once no restaurants were buying locally, now there are at least 15 in Iowa City alone (a town of just 60,000). Plenty more are cropping up in even smaller surrounding towns:  Lincoln Café in Mt. Vernon, Redhead in Solon,  Phoenix Café in Grinnell,  Augusta in Oxford and Café Dodici in Washington, to name just a few. The University of Iowa Food Service is sourcing some foods locally, and the Iowa City Farmers’ Market, where people used to look confused when they saw my chef’s coat, has more than doubled in size and hosts plenty of chefs every day.

There’s plenty more to be gleaned from my magazine, Edible Iowa River Valley, and you can sign up for our email newsletter here.  The restaurant has a newsletter too – sign up here.

If such progress can be made here, one plant, one plate, one palate at a time, it can be made everywhere, and I hope it will. Because the best times of our lives often happen gathered around a table with great food in front of us and the people we love all around. Who wouldn’t want more of that?

Two Devotay Recipes
By Chef Kurt Michael Friese

This bisque is the perfect winter belly-warmer, always well received at Devotay and now even more so with the addition of Iowa’s own whiskey, Templeton Rye. The pork shoulder is the recipe I used when preparing the Mulefoot hog for consideration by the Slow Food USA Ark and Presidia Committee. The Mulefoot was boarded onto the ark at Seed Savers Exchange in September 2005.

Squash Bisque with Maple and Templeton Rye

I grow most of the ingredients (except the bay and the syrup) for this soup myself, but they should be readily available this time of year in most farmers’ markets. The rye, though, will be a challenge, as it is only available here in Iowa. A good bourbon can substitute.

2 1/2 pounds butternut (or other) squash, peeled, seeded, and diced
2 carrots, diced
1 onion, peeled and diced
1/2 pound red potatoes, washed
5 cloves garlic, peeled
1 stalk celery, sliced
1 bay leaf
1 cup Templeton Rye Whiskey
1/2 cup real maple syrup
water, to cover
salt and cracked black pepper, to taste
Simmer all ingredients except the whiskey and maple syrup until very tender. Remove bay leaf. Puree and pass through a fine strainer. Return to heat, bring to simmer, and add the rye and maple syrup. Season to taste with salt and fresh cracked black pepper. Serve immediately, or cool and store up to 3 days. Freezes well. Serves about 8.

Smoked and Braised Mulefoot Hog Shoulder
With Sweet Peppers, la Quercia Prosciutto Americano, and Lacinato Kale

This is a time-consuming recipe, but worth every minute. It’s a great way to really wow your guests at the next barbecue. Remember to use the Mulefoot, or one of the other breeds listed on the Slow Food Ark of Taste & Tradition — we have to eat them to save them!

2 pound pork shoulder roast, boned and netted (your butcher will do this for you)
1/4 cup each salt and brown sugar, mixed with
2 tablespoons cracked black pepper

8 paper-thin slices of prosciutto
8 large leaves of lacinato kale
3 cups julienned sweet bell peppers, preferably of many colors
1/4 cup very thin sliced garlic cloves
1 large yellow onion, julienned
2 carrots, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
2 bay leaves
2 quarts fresh chicken or veal stock (or to cover), well seasoned

2 days in advance:

Rub the shoulder with the seasonings and refrigerate in a sealed plastic bag overnight.

Slow smoke the shoulder over hickory or cherry wood, at a temperature of 225 degrees F for 5 to 7 hours, or until the crust is very dark and the internal temperature is about 160 F.

Remove, cool to room temperature, then refrigerate overnight.

Day of service:

Mix the peppers, garlic, onions, carrots, celery, and bay leaves, and place them in the bottom of a large, deep casserole or other ovenproof pan that is at least 5 inches deep.

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Cut the pork into preferred portion size (roughly 6 to 9 ounces, depending on how hungry your family is). Wrap each piece with a slice of prosciutto and a leaf of kale. Place each piece seam-side down on the bed of vegetables in the casserole.

Add the chicken or veal stock, enough to just cover the pork. Add a little water or white wine if you’re a little short of liquid.

Cover tightly with a lid or with parchment and foil.

Braise for 3 hours, then remove and allow to rest for 30 minutes. Serve over risotto or polenta. Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Halloween is an amazing blend of history, superstition, tradition, and culture. It is simultaneously a time a celebrating life on Earth while honoring those who have passed beyond Earth’s shadowy borders. People have been using pumpkins as a symbol for this holiday for centuries – carving and lighting them as a symbol of the transition between fall and winter, life and death.

Countless thousands of pumpkins have been harvested and sold in the previous weeks, but starting on November first the questions turn to: What do we do with them now? Some pumpkins will have turned soft or moldy, and are best suited for the compost pile. But many more are still firm and perfect for holiday eating.

Now is the time for me to state my bias: I love pancakes, and I’m not afraid to say so, and so I think that pancakes are the perfect place to put that Halloween pumpkin the day after.

Here in America, the majority of pumpkins of the Halloween variety are grown for size and shape, and not for taste. In fact, both the taste and texture usually pale compared with some of pumpkin’s other squash cousins like the butternut, the acorn or even that “Japanese Pumpkin” the Kombocha. With this in mind, I think it’s perfectly acceptable, even advisable, to mix your squash varieties for greater complexity of flavor.

I mention this in the recipe to follow, but it’s important to say it again here – the consistency of your squash when cooked can vary greatly depending on a thousand factors, and so this is a recipe that requires a willingness to tinker and play until you get it right each time. Please, don’t feel a need to be exact.

Enjoy for a nice weekend brunch before you sneak off the grab that bag of candy you have hidden away in your room!

Winter Squash Pancakes

2 cups winter squash – from pumpkin, butternut, acorn, etc.
1 ½ cup whole milk
1 cup buttermilk
3 eggs
½ cup butter, melted
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking soda
¼ tsp ground cloves
½ tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp allspice
1/8 tsp powdered ginger
¼ tsp salt
¼ cup sugar

For the squash puree, cut a whole squash in half and scoop out the seeds. Place cut side down in a baking dish and bake at 400 degrees for 30 – 45 minutes, until a fork pierces easily. Let cool. Scoop out of the skin and mash with a fork to a thick paste.

Beat the liquid ingredients with a whisk or a large fork until frothy. Mix the squash in to the wet milk and egg mixture.

Sift the dry ingredients into a separate bowl. Slowly, fold the wet ingredients into the flour mixture. Mix thoroughly until no chunks of dry flour remain.

This is one recipe that needs adjustment to compensate for variations in the pumpkin or squash consistency. Depending on the texture of the squash, you may need to adjust the amount of milk until the batter is smooth and not too thick.

Heat a lightly oiled griddle or frying pan over medium high heat. Pour or scoop the batter onto the griddle, using approximately 1/4 cup for each pancake. Brown on both sides and serve hot.

Photo: Mark Johnson, photographer and pumpkin-carver

It’s not often that you see a group of restaurant insiders, gardeners and business leaders crouched over a land use map, but this was exactly the scene on a beautiful Monday morning in the offices of the Brentwood Agricultural Land Trust. We were all there for a “Chefs Tour of the Brentwood Valley,” one of California’s richest agricultural regions that just happens to be less than fifty miles from downtown San Francisco. The focus of the tour was to increase communication between the local farmers and the chefs and restaurants that need good quality produce for their customers.

Kathryn Lyddan, Brentwood Agricultural Land Trust’s director, started by explaining the increasing pressures on agricultural land in the area, primarily encroachment from spreading towns. “In rapidly growing regions like Brentwood, the pressure on farmers to sell their land for development is tremendous.” (Kathryn is also the moderator for the upcoming Changemakers Day panel “Labels and Indicators: New Tools for Delivering Good Food in the U.S.”)

The time came to look beyond the map, and we loaded up and traveled about ten minutes to Dwelley Farms. A small family operation, the farm is run by Mark Dwelley who is soon to be joined by his son John. They set out an impressive array of vegetables for inspection, including their famous sweet corn, while Mark frankly discussed the trials they have faced in their transition to organic farming. His love of the land and the farming lifestyle was evident in every perfect tomato and box of beans we saw.

The next stop on our tour was the Smith Family Farm stand, where we sampled a buffet of heirloom tomatoes. Ken and Janice Smith are third generation farmers in the area, and are famous for the variety and quality of their tomato crop. Kathy Scruggs led a short tomato demonstration, explaining how the color related to the tomatoes acid content. In general, the lighter the color, the lower the acid content and the sweeter the tomato will taste. My favorite was the light-green striped “Copia” variety, with a firm flesh and a mild tangy taste.

We continued up the road, then turned down a small lane to a little piece of paradise, the ten-acre Brookside Farm. Welling Tom met us beneath the shade of a pecan tree near their house, and introduced us to his parents Quong and Anne. Their mixed orchard, herb and vegetable operation is all hand farmed. Welling first gave us a short lesson on the various varieties of garlic they had drying, explaining why they grew the “hardneck” vs. the “softneck” varieties (you guessed it: it tastes better, but doesn’t last as long in the supermarket). Next as we walked through the field past rows of chard, tomatoes, sunflowers, and fruit trees, Anne laughed as she talked about the birds and other animals that also enjoyed the fruits of their labor. “You just live with them,” she says with a smile, “they are masters over us.”

Our fourth farm was Frog Hollow—who will be at Slow Food Nation Marketplace—famed for their peaches and jams. The secret to their success, farmer Al Courchesne said, was two fold: their proximity to the urban Bay Area markets allows them to pick fruit at peak ripeness, without worrying about shipping damage, and they are able to use fruit that was too ripe for market in their coveted jams, reducing waste without sacrificing taste. He loaded us up with some tasty empanadas, and we all headed off for lunch.

We retreated to downtown Brentwood and stepped into the CoCo County Wine Company. We feasted on food from the farmers we had visited, paired with some local wines poured and produced by Tom and Becky Bloomfield. Tom and Becky, members of the local Slow Food convivium, are particularly proud of their award winning Viognier. In addition to their own wine label, the CoCo Wine Company also features wines from other local producers.

“This tour should be part of every chef and every cooking school’s agenda,” summarized Alexander Ong, Chef/Partner of Betelnut, “It was so humbling to listen to the farmers and have them share with us their vision in trying to grow the perfect peach, heirloom tomato & corn.” Staff from Olivetto, Acquerello, and The Sunny Side Café also participated in the tour, and all came away with contacts and an increased local awareness to benefit their menus and the farmers alike.

A number of Brentwood area farms will be coming to Slow Food Nation, including Frog Hollow Farms with their famed peaches, G+S Farm with Sweet Corn and Knightsen Honey will be highlighted at the Honey Pavilion at Taste.

Photo 1 by kusine
Photos 2 & 3 by Aaron French