“Shelburne Farms!” “Oh you got to visit Shelburne Farms?” “Isn’t Shelburne Farms amazing?” “Isn’t Shelburne Farms beautiful?” “Are they still making cheese at Shelburne Farms?” This is all I heard when I got home from my very first trip to Vermont. The night of my return to San Francisco I helped run our fifth installment of Kitchen Table Talks (on Mayor Newsom’s new sustainability directive, watch for a re-cap post) and chatted with a lot of people who are very found of Shelburne Farms. And, yes, it is amazing and beautiful and they are still making cheese there. Bread too!

So, what is Shelburne Farms? I certainly had no idea before I went there. All I knew was that I had an invitation to stay at a friend’s father’s place near Burlington. I knew it was in a gorgeous spot near Lake Champlain. But with zero concept of Vermont aside from knowing it’s the home of rural farm lovers, Ben & Jerry’s, and Burton and that it lacks billboards of any kind (which is truly radical and wonderful to see), I was clueless. Of course, after three nights and three days on the property, I now have an understanding of the love, attraction and appreciation for Shelburne Farms.

Once a 4,000-acre “model agricultural estate” created in 1886 by William Seward and Lila Vanderbilt Webb, it has, since 1972, become a National Historic Landmark, working farm, and educational non-profit who’s mission is to cultivate a conservation ethic. That ethic is abundantly evident and demonstrated in the stewardship of the land, the condition of the barns, the impressive archiving, preservation and utilization of materials found on the property and in the ways in which their farm and forestry programs play a major role in sustainability education for visitors and the folks who are fortunate enough to live there.

The current property sits on 1,400 acres of woodlands that are Green Certified from the Forest Stewardship Council (the remaining acreage was sold off in plots). And, their grass-based dairy has 125 purebred, registered Brown Swiss cows whose milk is used to make award-winning farmhouse cheddar cheese on the property. During my visit, I didn’t see the cheese-making facility, but I did enjoy the bakery’s dark rye and olive pugliese. Every morning I woke to an impressive view of Lake Champlain and the sounds of wild turkeys, hawks, and geese; each day included a long beautiful walk along the property’s many trails. Suffice it to say, I left feeling at peace, grateful for an opportunity to enjoy the quiet of a country estate. (I feel compelled to mention that my host rents one of the many modest homes on the farm. And we had run of all the public spaces, which are abundant.)

I also learned a lot about the sustainable food community in and near Burlington. I especially love what’s happening around Intervale Compost. This business takes the city’s organic waste, mixes it with milky wastewater from Ben & Jerry’s and transforms them both into enormous mountains of compost. As a soil lover I really enjoyed watching backhoes move three-story high piles of black gold goodness. The compost is sold to local gardeners and landscapers and the entire operation is moved every few years so that a farm can enjoy the soil and new farmland can be cultivated.

The really cool thing, though, are Intervale Compost’s neighbors. Community and independently-owned small farms, a garden supply store, and a wood-burning power plant. The whole area, known as The Intervale, all 700 acres of it, is a green flood plain on the banks of the Winooski River that was once an industrial wasteland, literally on the other side of the tracks, where folks came to throw their used tires.

The person who led the transformation was Gardener’s Supply’s founder, Will Raap, who settled his business near the McNeil power plant to take advantage of saving energy by heating his building and greenhouses with the power plant’s waste heat. With the vision of creating new resources from other waste, and in partnership with the city and the utility, the area is now home to bike and hiking trails, a community garden, and 350 acres of organic farms that provide the Burlington area with fresh produce and flowers. Each farm is under the guidance of the Intervale Center which exists to manage the land and provide education resources to the community and associated businesses. According to their website “there are three categories of farms that operate in the Intervale. Incubator farms are the newest farms and receive business planning support, mentoring and reduced prices for land and equipment. Enterprise Farms have operated for at least three years. Mentor Farms are mature farms who have been operating in the Intervale for at least five years and take on the role of mentoring incubator farms.” What’s not to love?

Of course, back in the day the area was rich farmland for the Abenaki Indians and Ehtan Allen had a homestead there. However it’s only been since 1985 that it’s slowly transformed into the productive and bio-diverse farmland I saw on my trip.

I also enjoyed a wonderful meal at Hen of the Wood in Waterbury. The picturesque restaurant is housed in an old grist mil, complete with recessed stone and wood walls and a roaring river’s waterfall outside. They are known for serving exceptional local, seasonal cuisine. I enjoyed some local Vermont cheeses, a superbly autumn hen of the wood and dumpling dish, and the tastiest fried oysters that side of NOLA.

My discoveries aren’t new, especially to those who are deeply entrenched in the good food movement or to folks who love Vermont, but having never been there I was so grateful to experience them firsthand. My trip reminded me that when communities work together with the shared value of growing good food, feeding people good food, and preserving the land on which we grow good food, the world is beautiful indeed … just like Shelburne Farms.

As we look to incorporate ways, as individuals, to live the change that many of us voted for, let’s start by thinking about Thanksgiving. Lately, I can’t stop obsessing about three timeless holiday classics which will surely be under consideration during this year’s meal: leftovers, the economy, and cranberry sauce.

For me, looming thoughts about the first two topics arrive whenever I am putting food into the compost bin.  I immediately feel the invisible burn of my mother’s eyes on the back of my neck as I throw out some old mashed potatoes.  The thought of wasted food and money begins when I recall my mom rummaging through the compost and retrieving something that I casually and even smugly discarded. My response to her investigations/excavations was, “Um, Mom, it’s going into the compost, not the garbage…Just relax. Gross.”  To which she retorted somewhat defensively, “I just did not grow up that way. We did not waste food that was still good to eat.”  Somehow her foreign accent has always added a chilling authority to her declarations, but then again maybe her power lies actually in the simple fact that she is my mother.

The conflict of the experience, however, is clear: I grew up throwing away food that was still good to eat. In fact, I still do. Most people do too; we just lie to ourselves about it. Haven’t you said to yourself, “It’s cool, I am composting it”?  While composting can assuage some of my guilt because of it’s multitude of benefits for both the environment and my neurosis, its time to change how much food we toss in the compost bin.

According to research by University of Arizona Professor Timothy Jones in 2004, American households throw out over one pound of food per day on average. Between 40-50% of edible food never gets eaten. America WASTES more than $100 billion worth of food per year.  Think of all the mortgage backed securities and credit default swaps we could have been buying with that money! And to add a cherry to that garbage sundae, rotting food in a landfill releases the damaging greenhouse gas, methane.

Now, on to another extreme: moldy cake. I will always remember the repeated times my grandmother, with her failing eyesight and robust sense of frugality, would try to serve us children old cake as a treat. I’d like to think that she gave us that cake because she believed that food was precious, valuable and not to be squandered. She lived the majority of her life on a farm, struggled through two wars, and understood the cycle of life in relation to the effort of food production. I want to live her ethic and this year’s Thanksgiving dinner will provide the opportunity, not by serving old food, but by trying my best not to waste it.

The first step is to reduce our collective food waste.  As major shifts in the economy occur, this concept is beginning to enter our consciousness again, and there are many inspired websites, blogs and advocates to learn from. Jonathan Bloom has an excellent resource for more information. He is writing a book on food waste,  and helped Food Runners recover food from the Slow Food Nation event held over Labor Day weekend in San Francisco.  There are many practical tips here, including obvious, but often forgotten, suggestions like making lists and planning meals. This is something that most of us do for holiday meals, but it would be even better to extend these ideas to our daily routines. The not so obvious suggestions included menu portioning and better food storage tips. My suggestion is: Put a money jar on the kitchen counter, pay yourself each time you save something from the bin, and start saving the almost $600 a year that the average family of four loses on food waste.

Next week, instead of looking in the back of the fridge at the leftover cranberry sauce made from out of state cranberries, I will be making a fig and currant chutney with California dried fruit. Not only will it taste good with the turkey, but it will be equally delicious on a piece of yesterday’s bread with smear of fresh cheese. Of course, I will thoughtfully freeze this year’s leftovers if I don’t eat them up because I want to avoid my mother’s scolding and moldy cake in my future.  So people, this Friday after Thanksgiving, ask not what you want to eat, but what needs to be eaten… and where are the freezer friendly containers?

Fig and Currant Chutney
inspired by a discussion with Oliveto pastry chef Jenny Raven

1 1/2 cups dried Black Mission figs cut into 1/8 inch slices
1/2 cup dried Zante currants
1 small onion sliced in half moons
2 garlic cloves thinly sliced
2 bay leaves
2 one inch strips of orange zest
1 tsp. crushed, toasted coriander seed
1/2 tsp crushed fennel seeds
2 tsp. olive oil
1/4 cup aged balsamic condiment

Rehydrate figs and currants in a small bowl with just enough hot water to cover and let sit for at least 30 minutes. Sauté with sliced onions in olive oil over medium heat until tender yet toothsome. Add slivered garlic and cook for a minute or two more. Season with salt. Drain water from figs and put in a small pot. Add balsamic vinegar and reduce by half over medium heat till almost syrupy. Put figs/currants, onions/garlic, orange zest, coriander, fennel and bay leaves in pot and warm gently, stirring occasionally. Allow to cool, then adjust salt and add a few more drops of vinegar to achieve desired acidity.