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‘Profoundly
herbaceous. Nutty
fresh. Deep toasty
caramel notes.’
Would you guess this
is the vocabulary of
a professional grain
taster, sitting down
every day -- as does
Glenn Roberts,
founder of Anson
Mills, specialty
producers -- to
somewhere between
six and 30 spoonsful
of plain boiled
heritage grains? The
variety described is
Red Fife, America's
preferred bread
flour in the 19th
century, now being
revived.
Identifying flavor,
aroma and ‘finish’
not in wine but in
wheat may be a new
thought, since local
heritage grain has
just stepped on
stage in Western
Pennsylvania. Most
of us haven't tasted
much of it.
We are about to have
a chance to relearn
what the collective
American palate once
knew about our grain
heritage when grain
was chosen for
flavor, grown close
to home and ground
fresh.
‘It's taken for
granted in Europe
that grain has
terroir,
reflects the soil
and climate in which
it grows,’ says Mr.
Roberts. ‘People
have grain mills on
their countertops.
They search the
countryside for
farmers with the
best-tasting
grains.’
Anson Mills in
Columbia, S.C. is
fabled among chefs
and food enthusiasts
who revel in the
tastes and textures
of its Southern
‘antebellum’ grains,
brought by Mr.
Roberts from the
verge of extinction.
He discovered some
of the plants that
were the source of
the once-beloved
Dixie flours and
corn meals
unrecognized by
landowners, in
abandoned fields and
back gardens.
The new grain
specialists are also
inspired by the
‘ancient’
hard-hulled
varieties, such as
spelt, emmer and
einkorn, staffs of
life cited in the
Bible.
If this sounds like
a precious effort
for a boutique
market, consider the
role grain plays in
what we grow and
what we eat.
For Chef Dan Barber,
the James Beard
Foundation's top
chef in America in
2009 (and who says
he feels like his
head is in a wheat
field right now
because he is
writing a book about
this nation's
relationship to its
food), "It all comes
down to grain.
‘Eighty percent of
agricultural
production is
devoted to raising
grain to feed us or
animals. We'll never
achieve
sustainability if we
limit our focus to
the produce and
proteins. They
represent a tiny
fraction of the
farming landscape.’
The executive chef
of the renowned
restaurants Blue
Hill in Manhattan
and Blue Hill at
Stone Barns in
Pocantico Hills,
N.Y., loads so many
local grains into
his menus he is hard
pressed to remember
if it was New York
State emmer bread or
a farro dish that
recently tickled the
palates of President
Obama and his
family.
Any way you look at
it, a local food
supply lacking its
staples has a big
hole in it.
Modest resurgences
of organic heritage
grain are being
fueled by pioneers
across the country
-- Vermont, New
York, Washington
state, the
Carolinas.
We can now add an
outpost of our own.
Weatherbury Farm
near Avella,
Washington County,
was named for Thomas
Hardy's ‘Far From
the Madding Crowd.’
These idyllic acres
might feel like a
lonely spot on the
globe to organic
farmer Nigel Tudor
-- if the energetic
30-year-old had time
for introspection.
Mr. Tudor for now
will be the only
Western Pennsylvania
grower not only to
grow and harvest
certified organic
specialty grains but
also to mill them on
the farm. This fall
Weatherbury will
begin selling its
‘estate’ line of
flours and whole
grains. The
farmstead wheat,
rye, corn, spelt and
farro products will
have the milling
date stamped on the
bag.
Mr. Tudor, with his
parents Marcy and
Dale, has retooled
the 102-acre family
farm acquired in
1986 when the family
moved from Ross.
The family will
continue to sell
grass-fed beef and
lamb and to host B&B
farm
‘hay-vacations,’ but
their passionate
intent is to join
the few who grow
organic heritage
grains and make
money at it.
The Tudors face the
challenges that all
today's heritage
grain growers do.
The composed and
good-humored Mr.
Tudor cites the
little things --
deer, crows and mice
that prefer the
heritage organic
crop over a
neighbor's
conventional ones.
Then there are the
big obstacles:
desperate shortage
of seeds, lack of
harvesting and
processing
equipment,
undeveloped markets
and barely nascent
consumer awareness.
About 50 years ago
the grain culture
changed in America:
Small acreages of
organic grain faded
away, along with the
local flour mills
that served them.
Everything flowed to
the Midwest, where
conglomerates bred
grain for yield and
super-consistency.
This commodity
product could be
shipped anywhere to
bake the same bread
in anybody's kitchen
or bakery.
Seed stock for the
old-time varieties
dwindled, and
equipment sized to
maneuver nimbly in
small fields fell
into disuse.
Fast-backward 135
years to Nigel
Tudor's acres and
you find that
Avella, like most
communities, had its
own flour mill
(Avella's operated
until 1943).
The farm's original
granary still
stands. Mr. Tudor
came upon a report
of a "farm visiting
committee" dated
1876 (the era of
Hardy's novel),
attesting to the
high quality of
wheat growing in the
vicinity's
top-soil-rich
fields. The
yields-per-acre
noted would be
considered
breathtaking today.
Weatherbury, with 30
acres in grain, is
in its third year
producing heirloom
varieties and
conducting field
trials for them. Mr.
Tudor has spent many
a night online
corralling vintage
equipment. New
machines for
small-scale grain
producers are not
yet being
manufactured in the
United States --
unlike in Europe.
He draws on his
skills as an
architectural
blacksmith to craft
parts and restore to
life a sprawling
collection of
contraptions with
noisy belts, rusting
flywheels and
shuddering screens
and blowers. He
assembled a new oat
roller that looks
like a sewing
machine. His pride
and joy arrived from
Austria: a new
$10,000
sophisticated grain
mill, standing
taller than he is,
and encased in
gleaming pale wood.
The pre-1960 wheat
varietals, now the
subject of search
and rescue by
growers like Mr.
Tudor, are hardy
plants that previous
generations selected
for robust health
and flavor -- long
before American
flour became a
commoditized
product. Their names
reflect places and
people. Chef Barber
says it was
primarily women
whose palates did
the choosing.
Nigel Tudor is
growing Maxine hard
red wheat, heritage
Red Fife (named for
its rescuer,
Canadian John Fife),
North Dakota Common
emmer, Frederick
soft white wheat,
Oberkulmer spelt,
Aroostook rye, Buff
hulless oats, and
Wapsie Valley
open-pollinated
corn.
The term of art for
these varieties is
‘landrace.’ That
means a local
variety of
domesticated plant
(or animal) species
that has developed
largely by natural
processes. Landrace
plants, in contrast
to agrobusiness-bred
ones, draw on a rich
gene pool to adapt
to climate stresses,
soil types and
people's
preferences.
‘Landrace is all
about genetic
biodiversity,’ Mr.
Roberts of Anson
Mills says.
"Diversity is what
you celebrate."
Why is Nigel Tudor
betting the farm --
ahead of local
lip-smacking for
specialty grains?
‘I sort of backed
into it,’ Mr. Tudor
says. ‘We bought a
kitchen grain mill.
I disliked the
obscene price of
buying whole grain
for it. Since we
needed hay for
winter bedding, I
decided I could grow
better grain in the
process.’
Mr. Tudor is a man
used to finding out
what he needs to
know. He connected
with Elizabeth Dyck,
Ph.D., of New York
State, organic
researcher for 25
years and one of
this country's
foremost heritage
grain experts.
Ms. Dyck -- a farmer
herself, with
sun-burnished skin,
Minnesota T-shirt
and wheat-colored
hair pinned any
which way on top of
her head -- deploys
a modest manner and
a musical voice in
what she terms a
‘hell for leather’
campaign to get
these landrace
grains growing again
on small organic
farms across the
nation.
She helps farmers
grow high-quality
grain with
consistent gluten
content, water
absorption and
texture. Excessive
variation in any of
these poses problems
for bakers. Her
support includes
helping growers
establish themselves
with restaurants,
bakers, distillers
and grain
processors.
She founded the
Organic Growers'
Research and
Information-Sharing
Network and through
it mentors farmers
from New England to
Washington, Canada
and Kenya. She has
projects afoot with
Penn State and the
Pennsylvania
Association for
Sustainable
Agriculture (PASA)
to boost the
infrastructure here
and even fold
Pennsylvania-grown
grain into an
already appreciative
New York City
market. She will
bring her expertise
to a tasting of
Pennsylvania
heritage grain here
sponsored by Slow
Food Pittsburgh and
PASA.
Ms. Dyck and Mr.
Tudor are conducting
field trials at the
Avella farm. She
spoke to a small
group at a July
field day there,
sponsored by PASA:
‘Specialty Wheats --
Are Heritage and
Ancient Grains Right
for Your Farm?’
You might ask why we
should love emmer, a
Russian grain
brought to the
American Midwest two
centuries ago by
German immigrants.
‘For one thing,’
suggests Ms. Dyck,
‘it makes incredible
pasta.’ What about
einkorn, oldest and
rarest of the
ancients, dating to
the Fertile
Crescent? ‘Einkorn
flour is just
delicious and makes
fabulous yeast
bread. The flour has
a yellow cast
because of the
lutein, an
antioxidant thought
to have health
potential. Both
emmer and einkorn
are busting out as
trend grains in
Europe.’
Spelt? With its
delicate nutty
flavor and easy
swap-ability in
baking, spelt is a
good place for home
bakers to start.
Maxine wheat?
‘Fragrant, sweet and
toasty,’ said
field-day
participants of Mr.
Tudor's own
perfectly risen
whole-wheat loaves.
But seeds to grow
these flavorful
grains are not easy
to come by.
Ms. Dyck: ‘I am
moving heaven and
earth to develop
seed supply and seed
buying clubs, so
that farmers will
have several
thriving varieties
of each grain to
choose from.’
Not that there
aren't plenty of
obstacles. But Ms.
Dyck has faith in
Nigel Tudor:
‘He has started
small. He is very
innovative and
enamored of
research. He's way
ahead on the issues.
He is in the
forefront with
einkorn -- you can't
buy seed for it.’
In Austria Mr. Tudor
‘stumbled on a small
bag of einkorn
seeds, not in best
shape.’ He coaxed
the dried-out stash
into a few plants,
harvested those
seeds, and now has a
thriving plot, right
outside the back
door, where he can
watch it.
‘I prize his
collaboration,’ Ms.
Dyck says.
From these little
seeds, great things
are growing.
Says Glen Roberts:
‘Elizabeth's M.O. is
to go someplace
something is not,
and create it. This
year at a field day
there are a handful
of people, saying
'What?' And next
year there will be a
few hundred. She is
a results person.
She compels people
to win.’
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