Our farm is right on Highway 1 behind a hedge just north of Half Moon Bay proper. It’s one of the last ½ dozen farms closest to San Francisco which is convenient, but for a farmer, whose field is his office, being on the main road has drawbacks.
Number one, everyone knows when you’re not working.
Number two, everyone knows when you are.
So you get your ass up early and hustle down there and first you gotta water all the plant starts, and then empty the trucks and clean out the vans and put on your boots and check the tractor fluids and maybe run into town for diesel and get back out and adjust the implements and it’s already 10:30 and you haven’t even cranked her over but you get your earplugs in and your favorite leather gloves on and you adjust your Brussels sprouts and hop on and warm her up and ease her out and you finally line her up on a row and she’s starting to hum and the loam parts like waves and man you’re farming when something catches your eye and it’s some SOB farmer from up the road a stretch just happen to be passing by when I seen you settin’ on your tractor and now I’m patiently standing in the middle of your field waiting to chat. He just says that with his smile, of course.
So you power down and lift the plow and disengage the PTO, that is your Power Take Off unit which runs your implements, and cut the engine and climb down from your beastly perch and pull off your favorite leather gloves and pull out your ear plugs, although it would be wiser to leave ‘em in the way this SOB is likely to rattle on because you know he’s got plenty to talk about, he’s a farmer, and so goes the morning; you might as well head to lunch.
Speaking of which, my curried celeriac and sprouted bean medley shepherd’s pie, with a cheesy red potato and garlic mash topping, was a roaring success this week and the roast pasture raised chicken accompanying it came out magazine pretty. The trick is to make sure the bird is completely, absolutely dry before patting with butter and roasting at 350. Couldn’t be easier and a hit every time. If you need advice on cooking your own goose, greasing your wheels or any other matter known to man, stop by the farm.
You know, I’m always free to talk.