Dirty Girl Farm on an Autumn Day

A winter storm is approaching, and I had only a little time this morning to get out of the house. The plan was to hook up for another visit with Justin Severino, who is spending the entire day making sausages in downtown Santa Cruz. I thought photos of sausage-making would be fun. (And I thought I might come home with some sausages.)

But Justin wasn't there, and I had left my cell phone at home. So what the heck, I crossed over Highway One to see if I could get a photo or two of Dirty Girl Farm, which I thought would be picturesque with the cloudy skies and autumn foliage. I didn't expect to see the farmer, Joe Schirmer, there, but he surprised me. He was walking inside the new deerproof fence with Pancho and Pixie, his sweet dogs.

If you read Bay area food blogs, you will know that Joe's dry-farmed Early Girl tomatoes are arguably the most famous tomatoes in the world. They were even written up by Max Withers in the Los Angeles Times. You are looking at the end of the crop, above, but there were still thousands of tomatoes on the browning vines. “We had a lot of warm sun recently,” Joe explained. “Some of the vines have died, and those tomatoes won't ripen, but they’re still coming.” (And yes, he‘s aware of the fame of his tomatoes.)

We wandered among the rows, with me croaking like a frog—I've got laryngitis, maybe bronchitis. I sound like my smoking great-aunts. Hell, I sound like my smoking great-uncles. The fields were much greener than I had expected: we were soon knee-high in radicchio, kale, rainbow chard, and the very beautiful romanesco, one of my favorite vegetables in the world. (That's it, pictured above.) Joe said he thought both broccoli and cauliflower are the genetic descendants of this psychedelic (and delicious) plant. One thing I love about this plant is how it looks like something that Santa Cruz artist Petcharee Tamawong would carve.

The romanesco is very slow-growing, like many heirlooms—Joe had planted this well before his cauliflower and broccoli. I learned something new today: the cauliflower leaves, which are huge, are bound closed, so that the head of cauliflower remains as white as possible. Which means it's prettier, which means it sells better.

Joe showed me the beautiful radicchio he's growing—and suggested that grilling it, removing the charred black leaves, would be a way to overcome the bitterness that I unfortunately don't enjoy. (I envy people who like bitter greens, I honestly do.)

We crossed the narrow road to see Joe's new 30' x 36' greenhouse, and here I confess to some serious FarmTek envy. You can roll up the sides of the structure with handcranks, which you can see Joe doing here, to control the humidity and temperature inside. The damp weather had caused condensation, which clouded the plastic cover. (It's not completely transparent, but translucent.)

Joe opened the zipping doors, and we went inside to see these cabbage seedlings. The feeling inside this structure is indescribable, but I bet anyone who went in one would want one. I was mentally installing a loft and a kitchen, but in fact, you can't lock them. (I asked, wondering aloud if it was a dumb question.)

Joe's parents, Dennis and Robin, arrived while we were inside, and she said, "It's a very good question, with the farm right next to the Pogonip (a park in the city of Santa Cruz), and so many homeless people seeking shelter.” So while locking is not an option, boobytraps and alarm systems are. (I recommended a Pomeranian.)

I'd guess the ceiling is about twelve feet high—it's an uplifting space for which Joe has big plans. If you want to see something really cool, watch this 7.4MB movie of Joe slapping the sides of the greenhouse, causing a minor rain shower inside. The sound is wonderful. (Joe's saying, "It's even better with the sides open," then his mother, Robin, comments that it leaks—but it was just the condensation.)

Speaking of Robin, she teaches writing up at UCSC, and I will have more about a particular class she taught on this blog soon.

Joe asked me if I wanted to photograph Pixie's stitches—she is his smaller dog, and he said he'd run her over recently. (Ouch. I didn't get details, but ouch.) It isn't as grizzly as it sounds, but out of deference to the squeamish, I will just show you her sweet face. She's such a good dog.

Finally, public congratulations to Joe on his engagement to the beautiful-inside-and-out Miranda, whose aunt and uncle are Rebecca and Al Courchesne of Frog Hollow Farm. Joe met her at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market years ago. They'll be married next September. They are the quintessential beautiful couple.

Coming up next: more information about the writing class. You'll love it. You'll want one in every school.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: “My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.” — Robert Frost

Thanks for visiting. And here comes the rain.

P.S. Going to Cleveland? Love “A Christmas Story”? (I do.) A fan has restored the house to its appearance in the movie, and opened it for tours yesterday. The newspaper said between three and five thousand people showed up. How wonderful is that? Yahoo story link.

Comments

[Linda Butler]

Hey Tana,
I'm so sorry to learn the goddess of small farms is down and under the weather. Even so you made me wish I could be your shadow, getting out to hang with Dirty Girl Joe and wallow in pork with Justin. You just have to get well soon and keep reporting on the bounty of our county.
Linda