Edible Blue Ridge Spring 2013 : Page 6

FOOD FOR THOUGHT A letter from the editor. online dating service for, you guessed it, farmers. At first I wondered if the goofy voice-over meant it was an SNL spoof. Th en I checked out the site and came to understand just how much sense it makes. Th e schedule of a farmer is often intense, and relationships probably work best when either a) the partner is a fellow farmer or b) the partner is partial to the sweaty-shirted, dirty-ﬁ ngernailed life they could potentially marry into. Th at whole revelation (if you can call it that) then got me thinking about how locavores like me are constantly talking about returning to the ways of our grandparents and great-grandparents, eating food grown in our own backyards or from the farmer down the road. But that doesn’t really tell the whole story. Th e modern farm-to-table movement is a return to the ways of yore, yes, but with all of the technology and resources of the 21st century at our disposal. (Want some local spray-free rhubarb and sorghum molasses delivered to your door after work? Th ere’s an app for that.) Amen to progress! Amen to convenience! Amen to online dating sites?! “Everything is easier now than it ever was,” says Adrienne Young-Ramsey, who along with husband Luke is part of the burgeoning homesteading movement (page 24), growing most of the food they eat on their Nelson County farm. “You can get everything you need—grow lights, machinery, organic GMO-free seeds. It’s all here and available.” And this, coming from a woman who immerses herself in the farm traditions of native and early Americans through her Backyard Revolution program—and who’s married to a man who restores centuries-old log cabins. In other words, she knows how farmers did it before, and she’s glad to be doing it today . Probably also glad to be doing it today is the new crop of artisan moonshiners (page 36), who have found a loyal and sophisticated customer base among local foodies as small-batch distilling reaches new heights. While the making and selling of moonshine still carries stiﬀ penalties, we’ve come a long way from Prohibition. As one anonymous moonshiner explains, he’s just a small-batch distiller without a license. What’s the harm in that? See, history isn’t boring at all. It’s exciting and delicious—and it’s showing its face in countless forms as it is adopted, and adapted, by modern food artisans. “A region’s heritage foods are not bound by past events but are vibrant and evolving,” writes UVA’s Tanya Denckla Cobb in her debut column for Edible Blue Ridge (page 14). She argues for a push for more and bigger “heritage-food tourism,” drawing people—and dollars—to small regions across the country. It’s a winning proposition, and she’s got great ideas for getting us there. I, for one, think our heritage-food future is looking bright. EDITOR Natalie Ermann Russell DESIGNER I Chris Whitmore RECENTLY SAW AN AD ON TV for FarmersOnly.com—a free CONTRIBUTORS Eric Bendfeldt Tanya Denckla Cobb Angel Sands Gunn Jessie Knadler Robin Macklin Jessica Palmer John Robinson Steve Russell Carole Topalian PUBLISHER Steve Russell EDIBLE BLUE RIDGE 1614 Brandywine Drive Charlottesville, VA 22901 (434) 296-2120 CONTACT US: To send a letter to the editor, email us at editor@edibleblueridge.com. For advertising inquiries, email steve@ edibleblueridge.com or call (434) 296-2120. For home delivery of Edible Blue Ridge , email info@edibleblueridge. com; the rate is $28 per year. Edible Blue Ridge is published quar-terly—winter, spring, summer, and fall—by News to You, LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used without written permis-sion from the publisher. © 2013. Every effort is made to avoid errors, misspellings, and omissions, but if one comes to your attention, please accept our apologies and notify us at editor@edibleblueridge.com. 8 | EDIBLE BLUE RIDGE SPRING 2013 TOP: CARL ZITZMANN editor@edibleblueridge.com

Food For Thought

A letter from the editor. I RECENTLY SAW AN AD ON TV for FarmersOnly.com – a free online dating service for, you guessed it, farmers. At first I wondered if the goofy voice-over meant it was an SNL spoof. Then I checked out the site and came to understand just how much sense it makes. The schedule of a farmer is often intense, and relationships probably work best when either a) the partner is a fellow farmer or b) the partner is partial to the sweaty-shirted, dirty-fingernailed life they could potentially marry into. That whole revelation (if you can call it that) then got me thinking about how locavores like me are constantly talking about returning to the ways of our grandparents and great-grandparents, eating food grown in our own backyards or from the farmer down the road. But that doesn't really tell the whole story. The modern farm-to-table movement is a return to the ways of yore, yes, but with all of the technology and resources of the 21st century at our disposal. (Want some local spray-free rhubarb and sorghum molasses delivered to your door after work? There's an app for that.) Amen to progress! Amen to convenience! Amen to online dating sites?! "Everything is easier now than it ever was," says Adrienne Young-Ramsey, who along with husband Luke is part of the burgeoning homesteading movement (page 24), growing most of the food they eat on their Nelson County farm. "You can get everything you need – grow lights, machinery, organic GMO-free seeds. It's all here and available." And this, coming from a woman who immerses herself in the farm traditions of native and early Americans through her Backyard Revolution program – and who's married to a man who restores centuries-old log cabins. In other words, she knows how farmers did it before, and she's glad to be doing it today. Probably also glad to be doing it today is the new crop of artisan moonshiners (page 36), who have found a loyal and sophisticated customer base among local foodies as small-batch distilling reaches new heights. While the making and selling of moonshine still carries stiff penalties, we've come a long way from Prohibition. As one anonymous moonshiner explains, he's just a small-batch distiller without a license. What's the harm in that? See, history isn't boring at all. It's exciting and delicious – and it's showing its face in countless forms as it is adopted, and adapted, by modern food artisans. "A region's heritage foods are not bound by past events but are vibrant and evolving," writes UVA's Tanya Denckla Cobb in her debut column for Edible Blue Ridge (page 14). She argues for a push for more and bigger "heritage-food tourism," drawing people – and dollars – to small regions across the country. It's a winning proposition, and she's got great ideas for getting us there. I, for one, think our heritage-food future is looking bright. editor@edibleblueridge.com

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