CAPE COD LOBSTER CHRONICLES

PART ONE: AN OVER VIEW OF THE LOBSTER INDUSTRY

By Chelsea Vivian

Let me get this out of the way, I'm a California girl. For me lobster was that once-a-year, on my birthday seafood delicacy. The usual $30-to-$40 plate consisted of a rubbery over-cooked tail imported from Maine or Alaska, a cup of drawn butter and suitable vegetable accompaniments; the word fresh never ascribed. A few years ago, snagged and dragged by a burgeoning fisherman and Wellfleet native, I moved to Cape Cod. The first few drives along Routes 6 and 6A from Orleans to Provincetown resounded the plethora of lobster options on Cape Cod; signs of all shape and size beckon the hungry traveler. Not swayed by the assurance I would eventually grow tired of the seaborne bugs, my primary task upon initial arrival: to at last savor a fresh, whole lobster. With a plate, a bib, crackers and a gleam, Van Rennselaer's, whom I now lovingly refer to as VR's, on Route 6 in Wellfleet, hosted me my first perfectly-steamed, 1.5-pound select. Three years later, I've devoured lobster in all ways imaginable: steamed, fried, stewed, grilled and stuffed, and I have yet to decline out of fatigue.

The lobster industry dominates as one of the top commercial fisheries in the Northeast. In 2006, it ranked as the number one most valuable Atlantic Coast fishery, with approximately 92.5 million pounds landed worth $395 million, over 90% captured in waters off Maine and Massachusetts. The productivity and vitality of the fishery are paramount not only to the fishermen, but to the many hands and mouths that follow, intrinsic to the economy of Cape Cod.

The purpose of this series of articles is to first present an overview of the history and current status of the lobster industry, go hands on through the lobster trail from fisherman to distributor to the dinner table and finally analyze the impact and importance of ongoing research and regulatory measures to the health of the fishery. The following paragraphs provide a look at how the industry developed on Cape Cod and the lifecycle of the North Atlantic lobster. Next spring we'll go on board with local lobstermen in Provincetown for an in-depth look at how they prepare for the coming year, how to trap a bug and the impact of the winter season and climate on the landings. In the summer we'll jump to land and follow a seafood distributor to market and provide tips on selecting for and preparing the perfect in-home lobster feast. The fall heralds the red tape segment; we'll meet the players who participate in the role of protecting and enhancing both the fishery and the fishermen. Hopefully, after all this, you will have a thorough behind-the-scenes understanding of the breadth of the industry and learn some interesting bits along the way.

FROM PAUPER TO PRINCE

There is no question the homebase of the American or Atlantic Lobster iconically resides with Maine. However, the roots of the lobster in American history begin on Cape Cod with the earliest Pilgrim settlers. As with so many other fisheries, the abundance of lobster at that time could topple the current revenue ten fold or more. At low tide, the teeming shoreline provided hand-plucked bucket loads. Accounts from Miles Standish chronicle the Pilgrims early encounter with profound hordes in Barnstable and Nauset Harbor, and the natives who sought them for sustenance. The potential dietary possibilities apparent to early settlers however remained unincorporated in their daily regime; they viewed lobster as pauper food, much as they did the smaller European relative, the spiny lobster. Fit only for servants, slaves, prisoners, livestock and children, much of the lobster catch turned to field fertilizer and bait.

As the colonies grew, so did their palate for lobster, primarily inhibited by the issue of shipping. Dead lobsters grow poisonous after a day or two as toxins from their exoskeleton slowly seep into the meat. Not until the mid 1800s did live shipping with built-in tanks spread the Cape Cod resource to other ports, and as live inland pools developed, lobster drifted inward to urban markets. The advent of canneries provided yet one more avenue to push the meat further inland providing sustenance to union troops during the Civil War. As over-fishing impacted Massachusetts waters, the whole of New England turned to Maine and Canada for their supply.

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THE AMERICAN LOBSTER LIFE CYCLE

The Homarus Americanus, of the Class Crusacea and Phylum Anthropoda, spends most its lifespan (anywhere from 10 to 50+ years) rummaging the ocean floor hiding in rocky crevices and amongst the fauna. An opportunistic feeder, its diet consists of some dead material but primarily fish, clams, crabs, sea urchin and even other lobsters. Multiple times each year lobsters molt or shed their shells, thereby absorbing water and expanding as the new shell develops. It is during this soft-shell state that the female mates, holding the sperm of the male for often as long as a year. She carries her eggs inside for nine to 12 months and then externally for another nine to 12 months before migrating closer to shore, to warmer water, where the eggs hatch and float to the surface. An average one-pound female carries approximately 8,000 eggs and more mature females can carry in excess 100,000 eggs.

The larvae continue to float for four to six weeks and those that settle to the bottom as baby lobsters spend five to seven years molting and scavenging for food until they reach legal size, approximately one pound. It's estimated that two in 50,000 larvae survive to that age. As they get older lobsters tend to migrate in response to temperature, salinity and food. The larger they are, the further they go, some documented at over 100 miles. Although adults seasonally return to warmer waters, adolescents dominate coastal areas. Through their size and presence of eggs they are regulated within the state and federal fisheries. A measure of the carpale-the length from the rear of the eyes socket to the rear of the main body shell-provides the primary criterion. Any lobster greater than 3-1/4''with no indication of eggs or egger markings may be plucked from the trap. The success and sustainability of the fishery depends on maintaining healthy egging females and protecting the young from harvest. Next year we'll follow along from trap to table, regulation to recipe of this vast and valuable resource.

THE BEANS OF CAPE COD

HOME TO A THRIVING ROSTER OF LOCAL COFFEE ROASTERS

If you think Cape Cod coffee is a bit of an oxymoron, think again. No, Beanstock’s Black Fish Creek blend doesn’t get its dark flavor from the salt marsh, and Jim’s Organic Ethiopian beans were not ripened under the Cape Cod sun. But while the beans are grown elsewhere, the abundance of local roasters have without a doubt made the finished product our own.

Foodsheds have long traded for “luxury items” they cannot produce themselves. Monsoon winds carried pepper, cinnamon and saffron west; the trade winds carried sugar, molasses and rum north. Coffee is no exception; monks have been trading and transporting it since the beans were discovered in Ethiopia in the 9th century.

Coffee, in fact, along with tea and sugar, has long driven the global food economy. It is no coincidence that the first Fair Trade Federation goods were coffee and tea; they have historically been the most valuable on the global market and thus the most susceptive to corruption. Slavery and coffee have been connected since Brazil turned the liquid of the elite into a drink for the masses in the 1800s.

But hold the boycott. Thanks to local roasters, Cape Codders have another choice: to support local entrepreneurs with sound social and environmental buying practices. While coffee beans will never be grown on the Cape, buying your breakfast blend from a local roaster allows you to get the scoop on how the beans were produced and the ethos behind the coffee. With three roasters scattered across the peninsula, there are plenty of philosophies to choose from. While the operations range from hyper-local one-town distributors to nationally recognized names, they all have one thing in common:  a love of coffee and a dedication to quality.

John Simonian and Jonathan Kelly of The Beanstock in Wellfleet have a visible love of all things coffee. Their “plant”, a big storage unit behind Sam’s Deli in Eastham, is stuffed to the gills with beans, roasters—both functional and not, packaging paraphernalia and mountains of papers. A stray couch and its two armchair sidekicks appear to be an oasis free of coffee clutter, but of course these too are there for the love of beans; they are the perfect spot for a coffee break.

The two acquired The Beanstock several years after its birth in 1996. The coffee shop tucked into the Inn at Duck Creek in Wellfleet met with more success than its founders, Kyle Oliver and Polli Moryl, had bargained or hoped for, and so they sold the shop and kept the roasting rights. Their foray into wholesale roasting—much to their chagrin—again met with great success, and so they passed the operation on to the energetic Beanstock duo of today.

Under the Johns, The Beanstock has retained its Fleetian spirit. Of course Wellfleet has offered quite a bit of help; as Jonathan points out, “So much is based on people believing, and we have been so embraced by local businesses.” To that end, they insist for freshness’ sake on taking business orders weekly, and offer to deliver any of their 20 plus blends to any home in Wellfleet. They believe in dark roasts, small batches and frequent roasting.They tend towards organic, Fair Trade beans, and they’re somewhat wary of decaf. They’ve even created a Slack Tide Blend—my personal favorite—of half regular half decaf in an attempt to create the perfect low-buzz full flavor cup.

Justin Scott of The Art of Roasting is on the same page when it comes to decaffeinated beans. “Decaf,” he proclaims, “is not coffee.” Although The Art of Roasting does sell decaf, its founders Justin and Jeff Harris aren’t drinking it. As their mantra goes, “Life is too short to drink bad coffee.”

Jeff and Justin, both school teachers in Hyannis, had spent too much time doing just that when Justin spotted a small old-fashioned drum roaster in a Disneyland bakery on a family vacation and decided to buy his own. His father-in-law, Jeff, offered to bankroll the operation, and The Art of Roasting was born.

As teachers, the two were quick studies and are now well seasoned at explaining the art. They take turns firing up the roaster once a week. According to Justin, a typical batch takes 9-17 minutes to roast, but the process from start to finish takes a bit longer. For starters, the roaster takes about a half hour to heat up to its target temperature, which is a little over 400 degrees Fahrenheit. The green beans get tossed in a few minutes before that, and when they hit between 384 and 394, a low-pitched crackle fills the room. This is the “first crack”, as Justin explains; the “second crack” sounds higher pitched and is when most roasters consider the beans done (roasting further into the second crack yields a darker roast, lighter batches are pulled out sooner). Every few minutes when he’s roasting, Justin pulls out a few beans and gives them a good sniff. “Dry hay on a hot summer’s day,” he’ll pronounce. “Later on it’ll be popcorn.” By the time the beans are done, the room is blistering hot and the air is laden with the heavy scent of fresh coffee.

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While most of the beans that the Art of Roasting blends are organic and/or Fair Trade, you won’t see those words on the label just yet. “Most of what we do,” as Justin puts it, “is paperwork.” Jeff and Justin buy beans from an importer in New Jersey, and although some are Fair Trade and certified organic, the two do not yet have their certification to sell and roast organic beans. “The farm gets certified,” explains Justin, “and the importer gets certified, and now we have to get certified. I’m buried in paperwork.”

Walking through The Art of Roasting storage unit in Chatham, you wouldn’t know it. The space is a measure in contrast compared to that of The Beanstock; a lone roaster sits towards the back of the room, accompanied only by several bags of green beans, a row of empty containers with labels like “Kenya AA,” “Sumatra Mandheling” and “Guatemala Antigua Azotea” (Justin’s favorite blend, with a bit of nut, a touch of spice and chocolate undertones) and a dining room table made desk with one neat stack of papers and a few pens.

But as Justin points out, as two full-time teachers producing only five blends, he and Jeff spend a lot less time alongside the roaster. “The big difference between us and Beanstock,” he explains, “is that they make a living off of roasting. Right now, it’s a side thing for us. I’m pretty happy teaching right now, although someday I might want to do this full time.”

Jim Cannell made the decision to become a full-time roaster 15 years ago when he left his job on Wall Street to start Jim’s Organic, the nation’s first all-organic coffee company based out of Wareham. What started in 1992 as a one-man roasting operation with a passion for organic has now blossomed into a mainstream company offering almost 30 blends and wholesaling on a national level, with retail locations from Maine to Florida.
When Jim began roasting he was the first all-organic coffee roaster in a much smaller, unindustrialized organic movement. And while the larger organic market has headed in a somewhat different direction (think Whole Foods), Jim’s Organic is still focused on high quality beans from small farms. “There are larger more industrialized farms out there producing organic coffee,” explains Jim, “but those farms don’t have the flora and fauna that we think of as organic.” In other words, “big organic” looks a lot like the rest of the industrial farm world—row upon row of monoculture crops with a fairly obvious indifference to the natural rhythm of things.

He hasn’t compromised on quality either. As his theory goes, “The organic market is great because of the environmental benefits, but none of that is of any value unless the coffee meets the quality specifications.” Jim’s focus on “cup quality” has led him to roast more slowly than most in an effort to deliver what he considers the ultimate: a clean yet full cup of Joe. And the best of Jim’s cups in my opinion? Jo-Jo’s Java, the blend he named for his wife. The full-bodied blend is full of grace, smooth and not the least bit bitter.

It is clear that the fuel behind the success of these three companies is coffee—and not in the “America Runs on Dunkin” sense—but rather because of a simple, abiding love of the stuff. Cape Codders’ thirst for coffee has built a thriving roster of local roasters—roasters whose product reflects the values of the community that supports them. So as it turns out, Cape Cod coffee is no oxymoron:  roasting locally is all about the Cape. It is about Cape Cod demand, Cape Cod values and Cape Cod taste, and it doesn’t get much better than that.

HOW THE ROASTERS DRINK COFFEE 1. Use a French press; you get a richer cup of coffee that tastes the way the roaster intended it to taste. 2. Use a kitchen scale to measure 3.5 ounces of coffee for 64 fluid ounces of water. 3. Grind the coffee fresh for each pot you brew. Using a burr mill (see photo at right) creates an even grind. 4. Grind the coffee correctly for the brewing method; coffee should be quite coarse for a French press. 5. Use good water; tap water usually has some kind of extra flavor, such as chlorine. 6. Use hot but not boiling water (between 198 and 203 degrees F). Don't over fill pot. (It's very nice to pour hot water in your coffee mug at this time to heat it before filling with coffee.) 7. After a minute or two, stir contents of pot. 8. Resist the temptation to drink it while it's scalding; it will taste very different if it cools a bit. It sounds like a lot of work, but once you get a routine down, you won't want to go back!

THE LADIES OF CHICAMA

By Tracy K. Anderson

As the story goes, Martha's Vineyard was discovered in the early 1600s by English sea captain Bartholomew Gosnold. At the time, the island was covered with wild grapes, and both Gosnold's infant daughter and mother-in-law (who reportedly helped pay for his sea expeditions) were named Martha-thus the island's now famous name. Although there is but one working vineyard on the island today, Martha's Vineyard has its history in grapes.

Chicama Vineyards was founded by Catherine and George Mathiesen in 1971 and is still operated today by three generations of the same family. Catherine and her San Francisco-based family used to vacation on Martha's Vineyard in the summertime, and by their third pilgrimage they decided they would stay. Growing up near Napa Valley, the Mathiesen's were no strangers to wine country. "Napa was too crowded," says Catherine. "We came here with every intention of starting a winery, but there was a lot of work to do."

Now that's an understatement. In addition to "uprooting" (pardon the pun) six children, there was a forest of trees to clear and acres of vines to plant. What started as about 10 acres of unfarmed land has grown over the years, and now expands to a whopping 50 acres under the family's care.

The three generations that run the business today are Catherine (the matriarch), her daughter Lynn Hoeft, who is the current winemaker, and her granddaughter Rosemary Hoeft, who has just re-joined the winery and in my observation, is the budding apprentice. Rosemary attended Napa College in California for two years, and came back last spring to join her mom and grandmother. She told me that she is certainly interested in working in the wine business, but for her, it's just as much about being with family.

Lynn's background includes working with wine in both New York and California, including a stint at Domaine Chandon in Napa Valley. But that seems worlds ago-since she's been at Chicama full time since 1978. Lynn's words echo her daughter's: "My favorite thing about being here is being part of a family business," she says. "It's becoming increasingly rare."

One of the things that honestly surprised me a bit is to learn (and see) that Chicama is truly a working winery. For wine consumers, we tend to picture winemakers sniffing and swirling, tasting barrel samples and doing somewhat esoteric things to assure the final product is a true expression of their craft. And while the ultimate goal of the winemaker is to produce something worthy of savoring, there is some serious down and dirty work that goes on before a bottle is ready to uncork. On this particular day, Lynn, Rosemary and their small staff spent the afternoon cleaning the tanks, which as Lynn describes, is "cold, wet and dirty...not exactly romantic." Although wine does conjure romantic images, these ladies seemed just as content to be dressed in their fleece vests and rubber boots-with some authentic "terroir" underneath their nails.

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Chicama grows a fair amount of their own grapes, but the family understands the limitations of growing certain varietals in a climate as cool as New England. They tried Cabernet Sauvignon, for example, but it's too late ripening for the area as frost can come early on the Vineyard. They have been very successful with Chardonnay, Riesling and Viognier, however, and even some heartier reds such as Malbec and Shiraz. The grapes they buy come mainly from California, although they also source Cabernet Franc from the North Fork of Long Island. Next year, they have plans to plant Pinot Blanc and Pinot Gris from new rootstocks grown especially for sandy soils. I thought this was especially exciting-the ability to match the proper clones to the climate and soil is a special skill that comes only from years of experience.

Last year, Chicama Vineyards made about 60,000 bottles, which still puts them comfortably into the "microwinery" category. Lynn says they are just about at capacity and not really looking to expand much more. In the summer months, visitors are lined up daily inside the small retail shop and tasting room. Now, toward the end of the season, they have sold out of most of their wines, including their proprietary sparkling that they actually "riddle" (continually rotate the bottles) by hand!

Of their current releases, we sampled four that were out for tasting that day. First was "Oceanus," their smooth and tasty top-of-the-line red which is a blend of Cabernet, Merlot and Shiraz ($24). Next we tasted their proprietary Viognier ($18), made in a full-bodied style, and one of their most popular. The Chenin Blanc ($15) was light and slightly off dry, surely another popular choice for summer sippers. Finally, we tried the "Cranberry Satin" ($15), a very aromatic dessert wine that can be enjoyed alone, or as Rosemary suggests, drizzled over strawberries or peaches.

The ladies also make wine vinegars in the "Orleans method," where they age wine in oak specifically for the purpose of turning it into vinegar. They infuse many of them with fresh herbs, also grown on the property. Some of their wine vinegar selections include Raspberry, Cape Cod Cranberry, Anise Hyssop and Triple Mint, all priced at $7.50 each. There is also an assortment of homemade mustards, jellies, chutneys and dessert sauces to tempt you.

I left Chicama Vineyards with a warm, satisfied feeling-and not just because I had a little wine "glow" from tasting. I felt good because it was so wonderful to see three generations of women working in harmony, embracing family and making a sustainable living for themselves. And just as I was about to step into the car, Brian-a gentleman who was working in the tasting room that day and had actually just completed his last shift of the season-stopped me. "I forgot to tell you..." he said, "They are a great family to work for. They're just awesome." Now that made me leave with an even bigger warm fuzzy.

THE VINES THAT BIND

PALIO PIZZA'S BOSS PAUL MAZZEO KEEPS A TRADITION AND FOR ALL THE RIGHT REASONS

By Tom Dott

The message from the Edible Cape Cod office went something like this: "Paul Mazzeo of Palio Pizzeria is making his wine again. If you want to see the process, get to Kandy Korner on Main Street in Hyannis. Be there Saturday at 10:00 a.m."

Now who could refuse an invitation like that? Paul-whom I had met briefly only once before-was making wine…at a candy store…on a Saturday morning??? The cryptic invitation held enormous intrigue, and enjoying the tone of espionage, I responded with something to the affect of "The red raven flies at dawn," which I assumed they understood as "I'll be there".

Arriving at Kandy Korner on a rainy September morning, I was escorted to the side alley and down a steep wooden staircase leading into a Cape Cod cellar, where Paul Mazzeo was holding court-albeit in a tiny, musty, stone-walled court. He introduced his two cousins Bob and Pat, who had driven over from Monroe, Connecticut to witness Paul's once-a-year tradition. Fellow cellar dwellers Dianne and Doug Langeland from Edible Cape Cod were also present with camera in hand. Paul announced that it would be about an hour until his brother, Robert, arrived with the goods: 720 pounds of juicy, sun-kissed Cabernet Sauvignon grapes from Lodi, California. Robert had picked them up from the shipping destination, not far from his home in Easton, Connecticut. I was pleased to hear there would be a wait, as I still was not exactly sure why we were in a cellar…under a candy store…on a Saturday morning, but it gave me time to get to know the "man behind the cask".

In spite of his modest interjections like "I hope I'm not boring you," Paul's career time line is an interesting one. Here's a guy that arrived from Bridgeport, Connecticut in 1978 and bought a candy store on Cape Cod simply because, as he explains, "I worked at a Friendly's restaurant, observed how a business is run and I liked working with people." When asked about the inception of his highly respected Palio Pizzeria across the street in 2005, his answer is just as unaffected, "I make a great pizza-and the area needed a great pizza."

The keys to Paul's successes are as straight forward as his reasoning. One key is quality control. His ice cream and fudge, which are made in house, as well as the pizza ingredients at Palio, are made from high quality ingredients. "When a purveyor wants to sell me a product because it's cheaper and can increase my profit margin I just want to…" He stops, and is obviously a bit annoyed by this concept. "Well I just want to tell them this!" (I won't mention what hand gesture Paul makes, but we've all seen it before…and know what it means.) The other key to success is to not get too comfortable-keep things fresh, and keep people interested. Recent examples involve the future plans for cheese making classes at the restaurant, as well as the recently launched "Palio pizza dough-to-go"-a way for customers to pick up the raw key ingredient to one of the Cape's best pizzas. Take home a large or small size pizza dough, roll it out, slap on some sauce, load on the cheese and fuhgeddaboudit you've turned your kitchen into a pizza parlor. With pizza dough-to-go the possibilities are endless…freeze the dough for a rainy day, host a build-your-own-pizza party, wow your buddies with oven fresh pizza for the Pat's game, and, forget about oysters guys-you make her oven fresh pizza? And sprinkle on her favorite toppings??? Now that's an aphrodisiac!

Eventually the conversation turned from dough (and aphrodisiacs), to wine making.
In keeping with his business approach of I want to do it, so I'll do it, Paul wanted to create wine like his Italian ancestors did and not from a kit bought online. He looked to his friend Eddie Giavannone, who learned the trade from his father, Tony. Both Tony and Eddie took Paul under their wings and taught him the proper way to make wine, the way Tony's father and grandfather taught him.

As Paul begins describing the process of wine making, the squeal of pickup truck brakes echo above us in the driveway. The grapes have arrived and the hands-on part of our lesson is about to begin!

Climbing to the top of the steep staircase we find ourselves under a worn out and frayed pop-up tent, which wasn't there when we arrived-obviously Paul's soldiers had been busy setting up camp while we were chatting below. Paul's long-time friend (fellow Friendly's alum and owner of Cook's Seafood) Frank Whelan, seems to know the drill and has everything needed to crush grapes underneath the dripping tent. Brother Robert is there, as are friends Paulo and Thiago who arrive to help (note: the next time you are leaving Kandy Korner with fresh ice cream and delicious homemade fudge smeared all over your face, thank Paulo-he's the guy in the window-making it). Before we begin, Paul takes a vine from the crate and offers us a taste. The Lodi region boasts itself to be the "Zinfandel capital of the world", but the Cabernet grapes we sample are exquisite. We are told that these 720 pounds of grapes will yield about 56 gallons of wine-or as Paul affectionately calls it "Vino Della Casa Mazzeo".

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One by one, crates are carefully turned over into a contraption to be juiced, and I am charmed by the simplicity of the science of wine making.

"What do you call the thing that crushes the grapes?" I ask Paul.

"It's called a crusher."

"What do you call the thing under it that separates the stems?"

"That's a de-stemmer."

I didn't have to ask what the juice and grape skins were collecting in. I knew the answer…a garbage can.

As the first crate of grapes are split open and the sweet smell of fruit permeates the chilly air, Jeff Anderson of The Wine List in Hyannis trots down the driveway (this was predictable-sniffing out grapes is Jeff's sixth sense). As the grapes continue to be dropped into the crusher-which doesn't so much "crush" them as splits them open-someone takes a spin at turning the crank, while another pushes the grapes down towards the crushing mechanism. This is done by use of yet another sophisticated wine making piece of paraphernalia called a 2 x 4.

The juice is then poured into a fermenting barrel in the cellar, along with the skins and 25 percent of the vines, which increase the tannins in the wine. Heaters are set up in the cellar to ensure the proper temperature-between 70 and 85 degrees Fahrenheit-and the wine will now be left to ferment (the technicalities of this is explained to me later in the week…painfully).

As the last drop of juice is poured in, Paul set up an impromptu celebration: a table of hot pizzas, gourmet olives, cheese and San Daniella Prosciutto. Accompanying our back alley banquet were a couple of bottles of his latest Vino Della Casa Mazzeo.

At first sip it's obvious that this wine is bold…very bold. Much heartier and complex than your usual home-made vino (which can be overly fruity) and the tannins are balanced nicely. Not withstanding back alleys, basements, garbage cans and a basically airy approach to wine making, the final product is complex and delicious. The company is terrific as well, and we all enjoyed entertaining stories and some laughter. I returned home with a bottle of 2003 vintage, and when this special bottle is eventually uncorked, I hope that Paul is at my table (Paul if you're reading this, that's an invitation).

A few days later I'm invited back to "hear" the fermentation process. "The crackle and pop coming out of the barrel is terrific," Paul explains, "It's like having children in the house!" When I arrived I was led back to the cellar by Paul's long-time manager Nancy Magnuson. The sweet smells of the grapes and strong scent of alcohol met us at the top of the stairs. We descended and opened the top of the barrel. You could hear the fermentation, but at this stage the sound was soft and dulcet-like the sound of simmering rice.

A couple of weeks later I returned once again for the pressing of the grapes. Newly familiar faces huddled around the grape press (another highly technical name), but now there were two new guys chipping in-Paul's mentors, Eddie and Tony.

Now understand, the act of pressing grapes holds all of the excitement of being a rower at the bottom of a Viking ship. You grab the press handle and walk around…and around…and around the press until every last remaining drop of juice is salvaged and added to the barrel. Tony is extremely knowledgeable, and while pressing, explains the science behind fermentation, with things having to do with malolactic fermentation and malic and lactic acid conversion (getting a grade D- in chemistry I then decided the details should end with the 2 x 4). But a lot more is learned, more interesting stories are shared and more friends are made in an alley, by a candy store, off of Main Street.
It's true what oenophile Ralph Steadman wrote in his book The Grapes of Ralph, "Nice people make great wines".

It has been said that the best things in life are worth the wait, but sometimes it's the wait that can be the best part of life (it's why the gods created tailgate parties).
The pizzeria's namesake, Il Palio, is a horse race held twice every year in Siena, Italy. Preparations for the race go on all year and 25,000 people attend and dine outside at enormous banquet tables. There are horse blessings, parades and celebrations for days on end. And how long does the race last? About a minute and a half.

It finally dawned on me why I was in a cellar…under a candy store…on that Saturday morning. It's the same reason why people plan a year in advance for a one minute horse race. And why the Mazzeos and the Giavannones take the time to do wine right. It's not as much about the horse that wins the race, or the wine that ends up in the bottle. It's about community. The horse race ends in the blink of an eye, just as the wine bottle gets emptied in a sitting. But the cultivation of friendships and good times shared during the process can forever simmer in your memory-like the soft sound of fermenting grapes.

FARM GIRL CONFIDENTIAL

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SUSTAINABLE GROWER

By Veronica Worthington

Ahh, December! Soon there will be time to enjoy the rewards of a long and arduous growing season. Since late summer, during every free moment I could find, I've been spinning up my sheep's fleeces into yarn preparing for the first blizzard. I hope to get a pair of socks and a sweater knit before spring. Maybe, too, I can finally clean the house-I've had a peacock living in the bathroom for three months!

The demand for locally grown, organic produce on Cape Cod brought me to my knees this past summer, so in anticipation of next year I had to shut down early and tend to the soil and animals.

First, it was necessary to renovate the barn and chicken house and make a hayloft to store premium first and second cut hay, to have a place to dry herbs and a home for the animals during the winter months. My sheep and chickens are not just my hobby, but also a big link in the growing cycle of sustainable agriculture. The quality of the food that they eat is directly linked to the quality of the foods that we eat. The grasses that they graze on, the soil that those grasses grew on and the stress-free lives that they live are an intricate part of the organic food growing cycle. You feed the animals highly nutritional foodstuffs like fresh young grasses and herbs in spring and you buy the best early cuts of hay to store for winter. You also must invest in highly nitrogenous grains, grown on organic soils, to supplement their diet in winter. All those nutrients eventually end up in the compost pile and that compost pile is how you feed the soil for the next growing season. That reminds me, maybe I better not get too comfortable just yet. I forgot to cover the mulch piles and the forecast predicts rain; I wouldn't want all my time and effort to leach out and be lost!

Keeping that growing cycle in good order and intact is a very important, very arduous, year long endeavor. That's how slow food evolves. So, equally important as the hayloft for storing quality feed, was the turning of compost, which had gone beyond a pitchfork, and now required a tractor. I had to find more field space for the lettuce, so while the tractor was here we did a Chinese fire drill with the herb gardens.

Next, the gardens needed a good series of crop rotations, for the health of the soil and natural control of insect pests. I fed the remaining lettuce to the animals and cover-cropped the field quite early with a variety of grasses (which store nutrients otherwise lost to leaching in winter rains), mustards (which kill certain bad nematodes) and clovers (which make nitrogen available). All to be tilled back into the soil in early spring.

The compost and manure applied to plants contain many elements indispensable to vegetable nutrition. But it is not the fertilization of the plants that concerns me but rather "feeding the soil". That should be one's number one objective in the process of growing anything. By "feeding the soil" I mean feeding the billions of bacteria, protozoa, beneficial nematodes, fungi, centipedes, millipedes, worms and ants that live in the soil. It is their life functions and interactions that make nutrients available to plants. The waste products that microorganisms produce become soil organic matter. Give them the right materials, and they'll turn garbage into gold. What most people don't realize is that the above ground system wouldn't exist without the belowground system in place and functioning. Keeping these microorganisms well fed and comfortable requires constant attention. Fresh layers of compost are required many times during the year. They eat a lot and fast! The nutritional value of food is only as good as the soil it grows on. Flavorful food is an added bonus, so keep that compost coming!

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Another priority on the urgency list was our 14-room Greek-Revival home in need of new roof. You've got to house the farmer! But the list didn't end there, the greenhouse had to be cleaned out for a group of university students that had asked to conduct an experiment in the greenhouse. I frantically tore out old tomato plants, then had to change the compost in a 3' deep pit which was half the size of the 40' greenhouse. And all of this while seeding, potting up, planting, weeding and harvesting! So in early September I closed up shop.

Everyone arrived on the same day to begin the work: the carpenter for the barn, the roofers, the tractor for the compost and gardens and the Penn State graduates. The farm was so full of trucks, equipment, people, lumber and compost piles that it was tough to navigate the property-we ourselves had to park down the street-and all this activity went on for well over a month!

The animals had to wander around with no roof over their heads. The peacock, which was still quite young, ended up living in the house. I don't know how much lettuce the marauding chickens plundered during those weeks, but they certainly had a good time. The ram went into rut and began trying to knock down anything in his way, including the workmen and the new barn. So in the midst of everything I had to figure out a way to transport him to Caprilands Herb Farm in Coventry, Connecticut where he spent a month's vacation as the new Caprilands Black-face Scottish herd sire.

Regarding the experiment evolving Penn State, well, I'm not quite sure what it is all about, but I'm learning. Broadly speaking it is a form of "radionics" combined with something about magnetism and its effects on living systems. Much research was done on the subject during the early 1900s, but since then little has been carried out. Low voltage lightning is being created over the lettuce, and inaudible sounds are being directed towards it, extracting nutrients for the plants from the atmosphere. Wind power to generate the energy used is an ultimate goal and all in the quest for sustainable farming. The trials will prove beneficial, hopefully. I know the neighbors think we've lost our minds.

It's been a long year trying to attain the goal of providing every thing a lettuce needs to grow! But as I sit now and reflect, it was well worth it. I have renewed hopes for next season, a beautifully renovated barn, a roof over my head, a mountain of aging compost, happy hens with golden eggs, plenty of sheep's wool and a lighting storm in the greenhouse. In a few more months the whole growing cycle starts all over again. I'd better hurry up and start knitting!