The Not-So-Lonesome Prairie: Goats!

Oh, Capricorn


Perhaps when you think of “goat”, you think of Capricorn, the zodiac sign (Caprinae are the class of animal that includes goats and sheep). Not me. When I hear the word “goat”, I think of cheese, delicious goat cheese. And because of that, and my interest in the culinary geography of the Midwest and Plains, I made a pilgrimage of sorts to Prairie Fruits Farm and Creamery, a goat creamery just outside of Champaign, Illinois (home of the University of Illinois’ main campus).

About Goat Cheese

Goat milk and goat dairy is preferred in some parts of the world. And that includes goat cheeses, which are typically piquant. Many people are familiar with fresh chèvre, the spreadable goat cheese that vaguely resembles cream cheese. Chèvre is creamy, tangy, sprightly, a delightful minuet on the tongue. But goat milk is employed in many other kinds of cheeses. Bûcheron, for example, is a semi-aged cheese, with an edible white bloomy rind covering a firmer ivory layer which in turn encases a softer white, lemony cheese that is spreadable. There are even firm aged goat cheeses.

Prairie Fruits Farm and Creamery

On a pitch-perfect summer morning, with clichéd cloud-free sky and low humidities, I navigated the detours on N Lincoln Ave to make my way to Prairie Fruits Farm and Creamery. I arrived at the farm, only to find a “Closed” sign. Well, this was not good. After all, I’d not only messaged them on Facebook to make sure they’d be open, I actually spent the previous night in Champaign to be able to visit them the next day. Undeterred, I drove in and parked my car. The creamery door was closed, but not locked, so I just walked in. And it was devoid of people. I snooped around a bit and finally saw a young woman with an infectious smile on the other side of the glass, working with cheese. She came over to help me. I explained that I was assured they’d be open. The young woman, Lynn (see photo below), was one of the cheesemakers and she, in turn, assured ME that they were certainly open. That they’d sell me some cheese and that I could wander around the farm. Fridays, she said, were less formal. So, we commenced with the tasting (and in my case, the buying!)


My Cheese Haul

I tasted a number of wonderful goat cheeses. And I BOUGHT a number of wonderful goat cheeses—Little Bloom on the Prairie (a bloomy rind cheese—think Camembert); Angel Food (another bloomy rind goat cheese—in small rounds); Moonglo, a firm, aged cheese which has a washed rind (a brine is used to bathe the cheese); goat feta (deliciously creamy and tangy); and fresh chévre (which I’ve been enjoying by the spoonful!). Prairie Fruits also makes a raw milk goat cheese call Huckleberry Blue, which is a seasonal product. I didn’t get any because it wasn’t the season!


And Now for Something Completely Different: Goat Gelato!

Yes, you read that right. Prairie Fruits makes goat GELATO. As in the frozen dessert. Okay, it was brunch time and I hadn’t eaten (mostly in anticipation of this!), so I was all set to eat some gelato. There were about ten flavors available and I choose individual servings of Espresso and Peaches and Cream. Both were delicious, but the Espresso was especially exquisite! I sat down on one of the farm’s picnic tables to have my late breakfast. I would encourage anyone to swap out their oatmeal or bagel for some goat gelato to start the day!


Wandering the Grounds

Both Lynn (the cheesemaker) and her colleague Sarah suggested that I wander around the farm. They told me to go visit the barns and see the milking does and the young kids (actually, teenagers by now). So I did (and I am sharing a few photos with you). I got a chance to see the pen where the retired does were frolicking as well. The goats’ eyes were soft, yet animated.


A Chat with Wes Jarrell

Prairie Fruits Farm and Creamery is owned by the husband-and-wife duo of Wes Jarrell and Leslie Cooperbrand, former academics (see, friends, there IS life after academe! Rich life, too!) While I was enjoying my gelato, Wes came over, sat down, and chatted with me for a bit. That’s how I found out he had been a professor (even a department head at University of Wisconsin-Madison, I believe). We talked about the farm, about people not understanding (or paying for) the true value of food (remember that a lot of what you eat is subsidized and benefits big corporations). He told me about the gelato (how they had someone go to Europe to study gelato-making); the gelato, I found out, was a pretty new product for them. We talked about agricultural sustainability and organic farming (and they are NOT necessarily synonymous!) Mr. Jarrell was very, very generous with his time. He also shared with me that Prairie Fruits supplies the restaurants of Rick Bayless, the noted chef with some stellar restaurants in Chicago. With this kind of background, I knew I’d be enjoying those cheese very much upon my return to Muncie; it took a fair amount of willpower not to pull the car off the interstate and dig into my purchases.

Will I Be Back? In a Word, YES!

I should have bought more cheese. I know I’ll run out soon. That makes this Flyover Tapan sad. BUT, I will be back, maybe with some friends of mine! People, if you are at all interested in local and regional products and you love food, you owe it to yourself to visit Prairie Fruits Farm and Creamery.

Little Bloom on the Prairie
A runny Little Bloom on the Prairie

And The Rains Continue




I had a delightful visit from my parents, so this week’s post is short. But they witnessed what may well be one of the wettest Junes I’ve experienced since moving to Indiana. These images sum up what they saw of Indiana this time around.


The Vagaries of Weather and the Farmer

Water, Water Everywhere

The sunflowers (first of the season purchased at the farmers market Saturday morning) sit brightly on my kitchen island, reminding me of that orb so little seen lately. Yes, the sun has been peeking out a bit today, but solar radiation has certainly been in short supply this past month. For me, the lack of sun affects me more psychically—too much of the same make Petra an irritated (and perhaps irritating) girl. It isn’t that I dislike rain; in fact, I enjoy hearing thunder or listening to a steady soaking rain falling on my roof. But not for days at a time. That said, my complaints are just that, silly complaints. For a farmer, whose livelihood depends on the weather, days of rain can make or break one’s year financially.

I write this on the first day of summer, 2015. The solstice officially occurred at 12:39 PM EDT (16:39 UTC). Earlier today, I drove down to Indianapolis and was struck—almost stunned—by the amount of standing water I saw in the fields. Traveling the interstate in Indiana means traveling alongside farm fields (and, being Indiana, those would be fields of corn, soybeans, and maybe winter wheat). Every field was partly covered with water. In March or April or even the first half of May, it is not unusual to see field with vernal ponds, those temporary mini-lakes occurring where the water table is high. But by the start of (astronomical) summer, they are usually gone. The longer days and warmer temperatures allow for a greater ability for evaporation (or transpiration, which is the process of water returned to the atmosphere in vapor form via plants). What’s different now is that the ponding is occurring to a greater extent than even that of the spring. I know—I have a field behind my house and can see the water in spots. And what else is different is how many fields have NOT been planted.

The Planting

It’s June 21. By now, the farmers should have planted their fields. But conditions this month have been so wet that many fields haven’t even been touched. Acres that should have corn or soybeans growing haven’t been touched and still have last year’s harvest detritus littering the ground. Planting was already behind schedule back at the beginning of May (which was, in retrospect, a fairly dry month); Now this soggy, sodden June has rendered planting even farther behind. And once the summer begins, it may be too late. It’s not just planting, either. Conventional farmers may find conditions too wet to apply fertilizer. Agricultural experts at Purdue University suggest that Hoosier farmers prepare for crop losses due to the flooding.

What’s the Problem with Standing Water?

Plant survival, that’s the problem. Roots cannot survive in saturated soils for very long. Crops planted earlier have (by now) developed stronger and deeper root systems; they will be likelier to survive this flood onslaught. But recently planted corn and soy may be more vulnerable. That comes with the risk, then, of nothing to harvest. And, come fall, no crops means no money.

Nearby field. This one is actually in pretty good shape.
Nearby field. This one is actually in pretty good shape compared to some I’ve seen.

Whither California?

Yes, pun intended. California’s exception drought is getting most of the attention these days. And it rightly should be of concern to us, not just Californians, but the rest of the United States. California does serves as the fruit and vegetable and nut basket—no pun intended—of the country. The recent climatology, coupled with social and political decisions, has culminated in a mess. A big mess.

But, as the case of Indiana shows, too much rain can also be detrimental. I talked with a lamb farmer at the market on Saturday and she told me that her soybean fields were underwater; the lamb pasture is full of water, too,. Another farmer, one who grows organic fruits and vegetables, was bemoaning the plethora of storms that just keep coming and coming and coming. Farmers, as my great-uncle was fond of saying, are the greatest gamblers on the earth. They gamble with the weather.

Counting Blessings and Counting Luck

I’m grateful that my livelihood isn’t so dependent on the chaotic nature of the atmosphere. And hopefully yours isn’t either. In that case (if you are religious), count your blessings; if not religious, count your luck. Maybe I pay for this with some higher prices at the market or with some down moods because I haven’t seen the sun in some time or the occasional flooded roads in my subdivision. But overall, I’m grateful that my concerns with the weather are so small. Farmers aren’t nearly so lucky.


Book Review: Locally Grown by Anna Blessing

Locally Grown: Portraits of Artisanal Farms from America’s Heartland

If there is one idea, one image, one thing that seems to be endemic in the minds and imaginations of the many of the rest of America, it’s that the Midwest and Plains are full of bucolic family farms, where chickens run at the feet of wholesome children and every supper is chock full of home-baked bread, hearty pickles, and meat from one’s own herd. Well, there may still be some of that, but the reality is that much of the agriculture in the Flyover States is industrial and that the family farm has a difficult time surviving against the corporate invasion. But there ARE some farms (and farmers) that fit, well, maybe not quite the picture painted above but perhaps something similar or even better.

Tucked into an industrial monoculture agricultural model are small farms producing heirloom produce and artisanal goods. Some of these farms have been in the same family for generations; others have been started by people who are new to farming, but have deep-seated beliefs about how food should be raised (e.g. organically). What farms like these share is a commitment to personal values.


Thanks to Anna Blessing’s informative (and inspiring) book Locally Grown, you have a chance to meet the people who grow heirloom vegetables and humanely raise poultry and livestock on a smaller, more local scale. Blessing’s book allows us to chat with (via book form) those farmers who are breaking away from the monocultural, industrial model. The reader can find out about the farming practices used by these farmers. We get to meet Greg Gunthorp, of Lagrange, Indiana’s Gunthorp Farms, who raises meat and poultry. We meet Mick Klug and his daughter Abby, who raise fruits and vegetables in southwestern Michigan. We meet Wes Jarrell and Leslie Cooperband, who run Champaign, Illinois’ Prairie Fruits Farm and Creamery, a farmstead goat creamery. These producers—and others—are featured in the book.

The book’s subtitle is Portraits of Artisanal Farms from America’s Heartland, but Blessing is really focusing on farms known to supply some of Chicago’s best restaurants. So, that means the book does have a Chi-town-centric approach, but it’s accessible nonetheless. The photography is inviting and enough information is given so that the Heartland foods enthusiast can track down the growers by themselves. And, of course, a link to restaurants and their chefs (e.g. Rick Bayless) means that you’ll find recipes in Locally Grown as well! The recipes utilize the foods grown or made by the producers featured in the book, but you can certainly use what you find at your local farmers market. A few recipes might have ingredients that are difficult to find—I don’t think, for example, that I’ve ever seen a lipstick pepper in my life—but one can easily find substitutes for such elements.

In short, Anna Blessing’s Locally Grown is a welcome addition to any cooking enthusiast or any person interested in foods produced in a more sustainable and local manner. She sheds light on what has been, up to now, an unfortunately neglected part of America’s food culture.



You thought I was going to say “Chia”, didn’t you?

The Harbinger of Spring in My Flyover Garden

Okay, maybe “garden” is a little euphemistic. Yes, I have a couple of 3×3 foot raised beds, but I also have a bit of a black thumb. Which is one of the reasons I so adore chives—they give so much love in return for so little care. In fact, they seem to flourish under my gardening system (aka “benign neglect”). Chives are one of the earliest plants ready for harvest in the cool Midwest, ready for salads and baked potatoes while we Flyoverians are still getting good use out of our fashionable boots and stylish coats. Yes, like those of us in the Flyover States, chives are frost-tolerant.


What the Flock are Chives, Anyway?

Chives (Allium schoenoprasum) are part of the onion family, a not-so-motley crew that includes varieties of scallions (also known as green onions), garlic, leeks, shallots, and ramps, as well as the onions we are so family-ar with (Family? Familiar? Get it? No shortage of puns on this blog, though that wasn’t one of my better ones.) Anyway, chives deliver a mild hit of onion-ness1, a subtle hint of flavor. Culinarily, chives are often found in salads (and dressings), soups (typically added at the end as a garnish), and in dips and spreads. Additionally, they pair well with eggs and potatoes (think of the classic sour cream-and-chive topped baked potato!)

The smell (and therefore the taste, since these two senses are related) of chives (and other alliums) stems from the presence of volatile oils that contain some sulfur. Their mildness, though, is testament to the smaller amount of sulfur present in chives compared to onions.

And They Look So Pretty!

Have you ever seen chives that have flowered? They are lovely, with a feathery, purple blossoms that can be used culinarily. Yes, chive blossoms are edible and make a pretty interesting garnish. Float some on top of soup, add some to a salad, or incorporate a few into a sandwich. And when you’ve eaten your fill, gather a bouquet of them and place them in a vase!


Chive recipe coming Thursday!

1Or garlic-ness, if you use or grow garlic chives