…and I’m not talking about a “Super Value Menu” either.

One of the lovely ladies that works for me. She works for chicken scratch.

I was very fortunate to have had the opportunity to attend two Farmer’s Markets this past week. My boys were both away with their Saskatchewan grandparents enjoying a vacation “without grown ups” so I accompanied Mark to both the Hillhurst Sunnyside Market in Calgary and the Red Deer Farmer’s Market. The experience really opened my eyes as to the perceptions and value that people place on their food.

The majority of the time I am home on the farm, “in the trenches” so to speak. We have an overwhelming array of livestock including cattle (77 beef animals and 2 Jersey dairy cows), goats, sheep, Berkshire hogs, chickens (both a flock of egg layers and a flock of meat chickens), rabbits and horses. Each of these species comes equipped with its own dietary requirements, as well as social quirks, environmental sensitivities and reproductive issues. Sometimes I feel I am running a daycare centre for an unruly gang of tykes, half of which have severe peanut allergies and the other half which are due to give birth at any moment. It is very difficult to get away from the farm for any length of time as explaining the intricacies of measuring out feed, mineral toxicities and what to watch for with impending parturition is so exhausting that I might as well save my breath and just stay home to do it myself.

And this is why it was a rare treat for me to attend the Farmer’s Markets this week. I must admit I was a bit nervous about the outing. I am comfortable handling a 1200 pound beast but break into a cold sweat when it comes to serving customers. I can skin a John Deere tractor with the ease of a soccer mom managing rush hour trafic in a Mazda, but put a debit machine in my hand and it may take weeks to sort out the havoc I have wreaked. Thankfully I was there with my hubby Mark, a seasoned Market veteran. He would be my guide (a kind of bossy guide mind you) during this adventure.

It soon became abundantly clear that there were two kinds of customers we would deal with. I hate to apply labels to people, but there definitely seemed to be two “camps” of people. Those that “get it” and those that don’t.

Those that “get it” nod enthusiastically when you explain that all of the animals have been raised outdoors. The smile knowingly when you explain that all of the meat has been locally grown – either on your own farm or that of your friend’s that believe in the same philosophy of natural rearing. They pile up steaks, chops and chicken breasts without regarding the price tag. They understand that this food has value, that it has taken time to be born, raised and grown slowly on green grass and under the sun. They trust that someone has been overseeing this process when its -40 C, or out in a severe downpour to move the animals to higher ground. They appreciate the time it took to get up at 3 am to check the animals when they were due to give birth. They feel a connection to food grown by a farmer who they can look in the eye and believe when they say “This animal has never had any hormones or antibiotics”. They “get it”. They share stories of their childhood when they ate a lot of rabbit, or what it was like to have to milk a Jersey cow before school. Or they have never been on a farm but would sure like to visit with their kids some day. Some of them rave about the pork chops (”We’re never going back to grocery store pork!”) or the depth of rich flavour that range fed chicken has. They are thrilled to have the opportunity to purchase real, good food at a fair price. These customers make my heart sing, inspire me, encourage me to continue and reassure me that what we are doing does matter.

Then there are the people who just don’t “get it”. Sometimes they approach the booth ready for a confrontation. Often times they are just there to inform us that “its cheaper at Superstore” or that Walmart has a better price on ground beef. Perhaps they buy all of their lamb at Costco because the cost of importing frozen lamb from across the ocean is more competitive than what local Alberta lamb costs to raise. They see food as a commodity to be bought and sold, like a disposable razor or a pair of blue jeans, rather than an integral part of our health and a cultural experience to be savoured. I imagine some of these people must stop on their way home to order supersized fries and a “hamburger” (if it looks like meat, smells like meat and tastes like meat…it must be meat, right?) with a biggie cola. And that is sad. All we can do is plant seeds of education during our little show downs. Educate these people about the REAL cost of cheap food. The cost to our environment, our economy, our farmers. And maybe they will ruminate on this information on the drive home as they munch their sodium ridden fries. Who knows? Maybe they’ll be back to try some real, good food some day soon.

I recently celebrated my 10 YEAR ANNIVERSARY of being an omivore. That’s right, I used to be a vegetarian. And now I’m not. There is bound to come as an awful shock to some of you. There seems to be two schools of people I know a) my college friends who are shocked to learn that I now EAT MEAT and b) my current friends who are shocked to learn that once upon a time I DIDN’T EAT MEAT. In light of this current revelation both camps are likely stunned to learn that I OWN a butcher shop? And RAISE all those animals myself??

At first I felt that this experience (ie. “Wishy-washy-vegetarian-lifestyle”) may excluded me from speaking with any authority or experience on the subject of eating meat. Then I came to the realization that perhaps my experience with the spectrum of meat ingestion gave me particular insights into the motivations and misunderstandings that arise between these two very different lifestyles.

Let us back track to the catalyst for my vegetarian conversion as a child. We acquired a 3-legged orphaned calf from a neighbour when I was about 10 years old. That calf was like a brother to me…a slightly less smelly and annoying brother. He would lay in the straw ruminating with my head on his belly and we’d take turns belching. He was the colour of a mud puddle and quite possibly the homeliest beast I’ve encountered. But he had a great personality and was a great companion for a nap in the sunshine.

When fall rolled around it was time to butcher my friend for the family freezer. I begged, pleaded and cried my eyes out. It was explained to me that his role in life was to become food to nourish our bodies. Once the calf was neatly packaged in the freezer I vowed to steer clear of meat foreeeevvvvvver.

Fast forward to my college years. Vegetarianism is quite accepted, heck, there are even vegetarian options on the cafeteria menu. In some circles, vegetarianism could be considered sexy and “cutting edge”. Mind you I don’t discuss my eating habits with my classmates in Animal and Poultry Science. Why would a vegetarian be signed up to learn about raising animals for MEAT? I meet a friendly fellow student who takes it upon himself to keep me well stocked up in tofu chili, grilled cheese sandwiches, Shreddies, and eventually, the enticement of a grilled chicken breast. On my 19th birthday I returned to the realm of the meat eaters. That fateful day was 10 years ago.

Over the course of the past 10 years I have had the opportunity to explore a lot of the motivations, feelings and sometimes outright hysteria that can surround this issue. I would like to lay down MY philosophy on the issue. Take it or leave it.

I believe that many people are avoiding the consumption of meat products for ethical reasons, for animal welfare reasons, for the “pig can be a pet, so why not eat your dog” arguments. And I can understand the strong emotions that go along with those thoughts. I honestly don’t believe anyone out there intentionally ENJOYS torturing, injuring or murdering defenseless creatures. That would be pretty warped and disturbing, don’t you think? So why do we have these preconceived notions that eating meat is cruel?

I believe this is tied to the notion that so many people feel that raising animals for meat, slaughtering them and consuming them is an act done in violence. It conjures images of torture, even hate. You would have to be a malicious murderer to do such a thing. That animals live a life in horror, suffering and are killed violently, unceremoniously and needlessly.

I beg to differ.

Loving and respecting animals IS NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE of eating meat. There is no prerequisite stating “You must HATE animals and be unmoved by their suffering in order to ingest meat. You must condone the violence required to eat meat”. It is not black and white, good and bad, suffering/hate vs. compassion/love. There is another option.

Alright, we are going to take our time machine back 10 years once again, when I am a dorky college girl taking her first delicate baby steps back towards being a full grown carnivourous beast. Something that really bothered me was the anonynmity of it all. I was growing accustomed to the taste, texture and rich flavour of meat, but I still could not distance myself from the living, breathing creature whose life had ended to provide my meal. I did not feel right about ingesting random chicken #92935 from Wednesdays kill day. And what did that chicken eat while it was growing up? The more I thought about it, the more I could relate to Micheal Pollan’s statement that “you are what you eat eats”. Classes in university emphasized feed to gain ratios, correct dosing of Rumensin for peak performance, maximum crowding densities in barns, and breeding techniques to maximize the # and quality of offspring. Raising meat is a big business, and a fine art right down to the precise square footage minimal pen space of a pen of hogs that must take turns lying down. But I am not going to resort to the sensationalism of “worst case scenario” animal industry stuff. If you want to be horrified and shamed out of eating meat there are plenty of brilliant young authors and youtube videos to scare and shame you out of ever putting a steak on the BBQ again. But sensationalism is just what it is…shock value. We need to keep that in mind and explore this thing from all sides without tearing up or the bile in your throat rising at the thought of serving your pet poodle for supper.

Now you can see the wheels in motion, even 10 years ago. I came to realize that in order for ME to feel comfortable with the process, I had to find a new way of doing things. A new way that would ensure quality of life for the animals while they are here, dignity and respect through death, lack of suffering in the end. A new way that would identify needs that are overlooked in commercial situations, things as simple as the ability of a sow to build a nest to farrow in, the ability for chickens to peck in grass and feel sunshine, the chance for rabbits to hop on grass, not wire, before they are slaughtered.

And our business was born. I truly feel that in North America we have a terribly unhealthy relationship with our food. We do not know where it comes from, what its eaten, been sprayed with, who has handled it, how far it is travelled. All we know is that it is packaged on the shelf in the grocery store. But in order to really understand what you are eating and WHY (be it meat or vegetarian) you really need to bridge that disconnect between the pasture and the plate and find out EXACTLY where your food is coming from.

I am so very blessed to be responsible for caring for an assortment of glorious and beautiful animals everyday. I never seem to lose that wonder of the new babies tottering around looking for their first drink of milk, or the tangle of furry limbs and squinting milky eyes of a litter of bunny kits. I have the best job in the world because I know that, to the best of my ability (and in my very limited pig vocabulary) green grass, mud and sunshine are a wonderful way for a pig to start their mornings. I never have to wonder “who” I am eating. I know they’ve lived a good life, and I have cared for them and provided for them when they were born, I kept them warm, gave them friends of their age and species to grow up with, I gave them good, biologically appropriate food. I guess in a way I was their “hostess” for their time on earth. And when that time was over, we treat them humanely and gently to ease stress as they make the transition from (somewhat spoiled and doted upon) livestock to a healthy protein source for my (and your) family.

Here again I feel that our society has really lost an important link to our food. There is such a huge gap between farmer and “eater”, many people do not realize the life, death, tears struggle that day to day farming can be. I can assure you that our children bow their heads and thank Baby Jesus for their meal every night, because likely we know the very identity of the animal whose life was given so that we too may eat. I feel that if more people REALLY thought hard about what they were putting in their mouth, and the journey it has made, there would be a lot more THANK YOU action going on too.

I will continue to love my life, love my animals and love my steak. And not feel guilty for one second. And I urge you to do the same because there is no shame in sharing a whole lotta love.

Its hard to avoid the signs that SPRING has arrived at the ranch! Here’s what’s new at Ravenwood:

-CONGRATS to mama Berkshire piggy, Ears, and big daddy piggy, Rock, on the birth of 8 healthy babies! Blue and Rock also had a litter of 12 piglets this morning. Woo hoo!

-CONGRATS to Ruby and Cocoa on the birth of 8 chubby baby rabbits. These roly poly babies are all different colours. So tiny and cute!! They remind me of Mexican Jumping Beans!

-CONGRATS to the 11 mama cows who gave birth to baby calves so far this spring. We haven’t had any birthing troubles or sick calves, thank goodness.

-WELCOME to our new Nubian goats Pearl, Gridline and three adorable little bottle babies: Rosebud, Flower and Spottybud. It is so much fun to have baby goats living in our laundry room again.

-COMING SOON! We are looking forward to the impending birth of several litters of Berkshire piglets, as well as some Pekin ducklings and chicks!

Want to share in the fun on the farm? We still have space in our Community Supported Agriculture program. Families or individuals are welcome to sign up to come out, learn about the animals, help us with our farm chores and get yourself some fresh, natural Ravenwood meat. If you want to know where your food is coming from THIS is a great way to do it.

Yes, we have an embarrassing little secret. We are officially the farm that does not have a barn. I can’t count the number of times I’ve taken people around the homestead on a tour: “This is the pig’s pasture, this is where the chickens free range, that over there is the goat willow buffet”. They take it all in, then look quizzically at me: “But where’s the barn?” they always asked, bemused.

The truth is folks, there isn’t one.

I know, I know. Lame. What is a farm WITHOUT a barn? The vision of a towering red barn is synonymous with the word FARM. If you had 100 people in a room and told them they had 15 seconds to sketch the first thing they associate with the word “farm” I am sure 99 of them would draw a barn. The other 1 person probably misheard the directions and is scribbling the cool ‘do he was sporting in the 80s while humming old Eagles tunes to himself. The simple fact is that farms and barns go together, like hot cocoa and marshmallows…or sweet potatoes and marshmallows for that matter (it still boggles my mind that there are humans inhabiting this planet that have not had this wonderful dish!). No barn, no farm. Plain and simple.

Let’s look at it another way:

So we have established that BARN = FARM.

So if we have (0)(BARN) = (0)??

Er, something like that. I think I was daydreaming about piglets throughout the majority of the math classes in my life. That, or apple pie (Pi?) . Here I should mention that my all time favourite sow is a Berkshire named Pi. Hmmm, this is eery. A little too “Twilight Zone”-ish for my liking. We shall forge ahead.

Current industry standards for rearing livestock detail parameters such as minimum square footage, ammonia concentration of breathing air, timelines for interventions like tail docking and clipping teeth of newborns. Feed and water requirements are pinpointed to a science. Exact dosages and applications of a rainbow assortment of antibiotics, coccidiostats, hormones and growth promotants keep livestock in close quarters ticking along at peak performance like a well oiled machine. Animals raised under these conditions do just that – perform. Reproduce, grow, milk, lay, fatten. It is a precise, accurate and efficient science. But thats not how we roll here at Ravenwood.

Case in point: the frigid morning I milked my first cow. I bought a geriatric Jersey cow who’d done her time in a commercial dairy barn. “Maude” was retired due to the years of standing on concrete reaking havoc on her old bones. A low grade lameness issue and declining milk production meant the honey-hued beauty had a one way ticket to Ravenwood to live out her days on spongy pasture raising her own calves, a luxury she’d never had before. It was all well and good until the realization that *gasp* I did not own a barn set in. How would I milk this dowdy doe-eyed creature with a mammary system the size of a medicine ball?

Have no fear, where there is a will, there is a way. I haltered good old Maude, tied her to a poplar tree and set to work. It was cold, my milk soaked fingers kept freezing to the metal pail, it was awkward (seriously, we are talking about another mammal’s milking apparatus here!), it was spectacular (well, my language was anyway). But it worked. And 3 years later Maude is still trucking, happy and robust, living out her days chewing her cud with her grand-daughter at her side.

We may be a little, well, “rustic”. We may have an assortment of sheds and shelters of all shapes and sizes to provide shelter from the elements. My chickens may live in a spectacular mushroom shaped Smurf-esque house my dear Dad fashioned from a retro-fitted fibreglass oilfield tank. Our “tools of the trade” may be sunshine, grass, space, deep straw, mud for rolling in and fresh air rather than Ralgro or Tylosin or Rumensin. But hey, its working. And if you can judge a pig’s happiness by the amount of dirt its rooted up to its eyeballs or the amount of air a goat kid clears when it bounces off the rock pile, then I think we are doing alright.

That said, however, I will gladly accept donations towards my spectacular dream barn, which, of course, would be more for my own comfort than that of the critters ;)

Step into my office.

I have a confession to make. Sometimes I am a really bad farmer. No, not in the sense that I am joyriding recklessly in a combine at midnight or pouring giant vats of used motor oil into the nearby river. No, no, nothing like that. More in the sense that sometimes I fantasize about living in an apartment in a very busy city, working a 9-5, coming home at the end of the day to watch TV the whole evening through. Most often these fantasies creep up at the most inopportune times, like when the pigs’ waterer has froze up when its pitch black and -36 C. Or when a pen of uber-fragrant and amourous buck kids escapes from their Alkatraz-esque pen and all come hop into the van as you are loading the freshly bathed children and you’re running late for church. Sometimes it seems that a day off is a distant memory (was it 5 months ago? 6? When was that we took the afternoon off?). Often I have a hard time remembering what my feet feel like in real shoes, not clompy, manure-packed green rubber boots. And why is it so hard to feel very glamourous in coveralls covered in placenta and who-knows-what-else?

Not your typical "Sweet 16" glamour shots.

Don’t get me wrong. I love farming. I love feeling connected to what I eat and grow. I love the satisfaction of a day’s work done with everybody bedded down and well fed (human and animals alike). I love the opportunity to show my kids where milk comes from, the cycle of life, and how raising food is the most noble profession of all. I love sitting down for a breakfast of fresh eggs, our own smoked bacon, homemade bread and butter courtesy of Maude the Jersey. I love the look of wonder and excitement in my little fellas eyes as they peer into the laundry room and behold a wobbly bottle baby kid or piglet. I love spending the day in the sunshine with my family and claiming that its my “career”. :)

But I’m sure you all know what I am talking about. Those moments that creep up from time to time when you really have to question your sanity that THIS is the life, the career path, the job you’ve chosen. The whole basis of a choice is that there are alternatives. When all the kid’s from highschool went on to become accountants and health care technicians and social workers, why did you choose to FARM?? Most people my age don’t understand why I’d go to university to study farming, much less choose to be a pig/goat/chicken/cow farmer…SERIOUSLY?? *insert wrinkled nose here*

The truth is, though, that those people are missing out. They may never know the joys of seeing their first harvest through to the end. They will never know the anticipation of planning a breeding season years in advance, or the pride of handing over the frozen lamb that you brought into this world with care to a gourmet chef who raves about the quality of your products. They might miss out on planting a garden with a couple of soil-encrusted toddlers, or the heartache of saying goodbye to that trusty old milk goat that provided milk for your babies when they couldn’t tolerate anything else.

A few weeks ago a friend asked my 4 year old son if he was going to be a hockey player when he grew up. Without a moment of hesitation he replied, “Nope! I’m gonna be a farmer and have a meat store”. I can tell you at that moment I couldn’t be more proud. :)

Take care, keep warm and sending lots of “unthawed trough vibes” your way!

Tam

The Ravenwood Gang (L to R): Mark (holding Nathan), Dayle, William, Tamara and Alice.

From all of us here at Ravenwood we would like to extend our gratitude and appreciation to all of our loyal customers and producers who have shown their support over the past year. Thank you all so much for your encouragement and friendship. We couldn’t have grown this little shop to what it is today without your kind words, help or patronage. We wish you and your family the very best holiday yet, and health and happiness in 2010!

We are so thrilled to have our delicious, succulent Berkshire pork featured on dynamic menus across the province. If you are looking for a culinary adventure, please look no further than our friends below!

Baker Creek Bistro
Baker Creek Chalets, Lake Louise, Alberta
Reservations 403.522.2182
We Recommend: Try Chef Shelley’s Ravenwood Berkshire pork loin chop, smoked belly and stewed shoulder with crispy yam wedges. Mmmmmmmm!

Redstone Grill and Wine Bar
5018 45 Street, Red Deer, Alberta
Reservations 403.342.4980
We recommend: Try Chef Chris’ succulent 17 ounce Ravenwood Berkshire bone-in pork chop. This is one BIG chop that is amazingly tender and juicy.

CHEFS: Interested in featuring Ravenwood’s locally raised, natural meats on your menu? Contact us for a restaurant price list today :) We’d love to come meet with you to discuss what we can do for you. 

We are pleased to be offering locally grown, natural purebred Dexter beef in store and to our Farmer’s Market customers. Dexters are a rare breed of small-sized cattle originating in Ireland where they are prized for their meat and milk. Their smaller size results in smaller serving sizes ideal for small households. Dexters also make a great option for freezer beef as a side (1/2) of Dexter beef is the equivalent of a 1/4 of regular beef, but you get both front and hind quarters so more variety of cuts. A great alternative for those without a large freezer.

The Canadian Dexter Cattle Association states:
“Beef from Dexters is of excellent quality with a high dress-out percentage, providing greater yield of lean, tender, tasty meat.”

Please stop in or place an order for some of our naturally raised Dexter today!

JOIN US!

We are always looking for dedicated producers with quality, naturally raised products. Transparency is a big part of our operation and we like to let our customers know what we do and how we do it. For this reason we ask that all producers send in a sign up sheet as well as a signed contract. Any additional information pertaining to your operation (ie. feed, management) is valuable. We like to provide consumers with details to help them make an informed decision about the foods they are purchasing and the farm families they are supporting.

OUR PHILOSOPHY

NATURAL PRODUCT PRODUCER SIGN UP

BEEF PRODUCER CONTRACT

PORK PRODUCER CONTRACT

PHOTO BY ALEXIS KIENLEN MARK AND TAMARA TAYLOR AND THEIR TWO SONS, NATHAN AND WILLIAM. THE TAYLORS OWN AND OPERATE RAVENWOOD FARM FRESH MEATS. —

Alexis Kienlen of Alberta Farmer Express wrote a wonderful story about our crazy, er, enthusiastic family and meat shop. Click on the picture to read the whole story.