Publisher’s Note
By Holly Madrigal
For those who have never had the pleasure (sarcasm) of filling out an online dating app, let me reveal some of the experience. In addition to summarizing your whole essence in a pithy yet intriguing paragraph, you are given the opportunity to answer prompts so that others can get a sense of your personality. These are questions like, “If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life ...,” and “If you could have any superpower ...,” and my favorite: “My zombie apocalypse plan is ...” To this point, my apocalypse plan is, quite simply, community. It is the connective bonds of neighbors helping neighbors, of trust and reliance on those other than yourself, that will see us through whatever challenges we face.
This issue is full of stories that highlight the many ways in which we take care of one another. Feeding others is a fundamental expression of care, and the crew at El Mocajete (p7) does so with style, serving up delicious Mexican food in eye-popping platefuls to ensure that even the most ravenous appetite will leave satisfied. The Caspar Community Center has elevated community connection to an art form, serving a scrumptious monthly breakfast that goes above and beyond mere pancakes (p11).
Further up the coast, Janie Larsen-Notmeyer is busy growing food for the soul. She coaxes the most luxurious dahlia blooms out of her small farm— Janie’s Dahlias—and offers those colorful bursts of joy through the farmers markets she attends (p27). And down in Point Arena, Jaqueleine Strock of Roots Apothecary has a deep background in and passion for traditional plant medicine (p21), providing customers with tinctures, teas, salves, and other remedies made from herbal ingredients to ease what ails them.
This issue looks at two community efforts—the Mendocino County Food Guide and the North Coast KelpFest!—that are caring for important local resources. The food guide lets you know what your farmers are growing and where you can buy it (p15), increasing revenue for local farms and improving our health and food security in the process. The kelp festival (p39) educates folks around the devastated bull kelp forests off of our coast, as well as the different efforts to restore them. If you’ve never tasted purple urchin, or if you want an update on current research and restoration results, or even if you just want to dress up like a sea creature in a parade, this event is for you!
All of us at Word of Mouth take great pride in sharing these stories. To know about the work and care people pour into our food system—from growing the food to making something delicious with it before serving it to you on a plate—is to recognize its value. By connecting our readers to the restaurant down the street, the farmer across town, or the herbalist around the corner, we are strengthening each other. My apocalypse plan is to weave my own gifts into this vibrant tapestry of generosity.
Holly Madrigal
Co-Publisher & Managing Editor
Photo by Alecsander Alves courtesy of Unsplash.
Get to the Root
Beets are the Ideal Autumn Veg
by Trudy Goodstein
People unfamiliar with beets might find the lopsided ovoids very un-food-like. Smaller than a baseball and just as hard, they can appear more suited to throwing than eating. Yet beets are actually a wonderful vegetable with an earthy sweetness that is accentuated through cooking. Available between May and December, depending on when and where they are planted, they are a fantastic source of fiber, potassium, and iron. Their colors range from golden yellow to classic red to deep purple.
The beet root you see in markets is not the only edible part of the plant. You can also eat the greens raw, add them to soup, or sauté them. If the stems are older, they may be woody but they are still delicious. Just cut them smaller and cook them longer than the leaves.
Beet roots are most commonly boiled or roasted. Roasting them results in a slightly sweeter flavor and can be done with whole beets or cut chunks, requiring 35-75 minutes in the oven. Boiling them is quicker, ranging from 20 minutes for small beets to 40 minutes for larger ones. Beets are fully cooked when you can pierce them with a paring knife or fork and it slides in easily.
After cooking, cool the beets until they are safe to handle, at which point the skins will slide right off. Handle the cooked beets in a sink or other non-stainable surface because they have a penchant to stain most things including hands, clothing, and wooden surfaces. Beet stain will come off your hands, though it might take a few washes.
Cooked beets are delicious served as simple slices topped with salt, pepper, and a dollop of sour cream with a sprinkle of dill. You can add them to salads, roast them with other root vegetables, or make borscht, a beet soup that can be served cold or hot.
Sour cream and dill are common flavors when preparing beets, but you can try different flavor combinations with your favorite spice or herb for some fun experimentation. Beets are stable enough in flavor and texture that they can handle culinary creativity vis-a-vis spice combinations and cooking styles. Tasty, hearty, and healthy, great served hot or cold, beets are perfect for fall’s changeable weather. And if you want to save them for any time of year, try pickling them with the recipe that follows.
Pickled Beets
by Trudy Goodstein
Trudy Goodstein has worked at Pettit Teton for the last five years jamming and canning many things. Before relocating to Mendocino County, she worked in fine dining in San Francisco.
Yield: (10) 12 oz jars
INGREDIENTS
6.5 lbs beets, with their rootlets and 2 inches of their tops, well-scrubbed • 11⁄2 tsp whole cloves
(3) 4-inch cinnamon sticks, broken into pieces or crushed to fit spice bag • 1 1⁄2-inch piece fresh ginger, thinly sliced (frozen ok)
3 3⁄4 cups sugar
3 cups red wine
4 1⁄2 cups red wine vinegar
1 1⁄2 Tbsp salt
INSTRUCTIONS
Put the beets into a large pot and pour enough water over them to cover them. Bring the water to a boil and boil the beets for 25 to 40 minutes, depending on their size, until they are just tender.
Drain the beets and cover them with cold water. When they are cool, trim them and slip off their skins, then cut them into thick chunks.
Tie the cloves, cinnamon, and ginger in a spice bag or scrap of cheesecloth. Put this into a nonreactive pot with the sugar, wine, vinegar, and salt. Bring the contents to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar and salt. Simmer the syrup, uncovered, for 10 minutes.
While the syrup simmers, pack the beets into sterilized pint mason jars. Remove the spice bag from the pan and pour the hot syrup over the beets, leaving 1⁄2 inch headspace. Process the jars for 30 minutes in a boiling water bath.
Store jars in a cool, dry, dark place for at least 3 weeks before eating the beets. Store in the refrigerator after opening.
Photo p5 by Torrey Douglass
Photo p6 by Natalia Fogarty courtesy of Unsplash
El Molcajete
by Sarah Reith
El Molcajete is back, and it’s busier than ever. At 11:00 on a Tuesday morning, tables were already filling up at the latest arrival to what’s been called “the gateway to Ukiah.” Tucked in between Rainbow Ag and the old Dragon’s Lair building, this used to be where visitors could get Romi’s Wild West Brew and BBQ. Locals remember fragrant smoke rising from the outdoor grill, stars and horseshoes on the sign, and the red-barn vibe. You could get live chickens next door, and drop by Romi’s for wings before leaving town.
Now, after standing empty for years, it’s bustling again. As of April 29, 225 East Perkins Street is the new home of El Molcajete, named for its signature dish: a lavish spicy stew with chicken, beef, and chorizo, served in a large bowl made from volcanic rock, its rough rim festooned with shrimp. A Molcajete is a traditional Mexican mortar and pestle. It’s used to grind spices and prepare foods like salsa and guacamole. Because it has so much texture, it allows nuanced flavors to develop. Because it’s made of rock, it holds the heat for a long time. Dishes continue to sizzle as diners enjoy a leisurely meal with friends. “Here our lunch is very long,” observes Montserrat Ruiz. After almost six years at El Molcajete, she’s taken on a lot of responsibility, but eschews a title, declaring that “nobody is more, and nobody is less” in this workplace. She’s been with the business through good times and pandemic times. Now she’s on hand for what may be boom times. “Dinners are long, too,” she adds. That may be because breakfast, lunch, and dinner are served from 10:00am to 9:00pm, seven days a week, making it one of the few places in town that does business on Sunday. There’s enough business to keep five wait staff on the run.
Before 2020, El Molcajete did a steady enough business at the south end of town. Three wait staff was plenty to handle brief rushes at lunch and dinner. They built up a loyal clientele.
Then the pandemic hit. El Molcajete, along with so many other restaurants, closed. After the lockdowns, it reopened briefly on South State Street. But traffic was sparse, and competition was tight. El Molcajete was not part of any post-pandemic revival. Owners Maribel Sahagún and Juan Guerrero took a chance on upcoming developments in town. Why not position themselves in the midst of empty storefronts, between the heart of the business district and a massive construction site?
Work on the long-awaited new courthouse, just a few blocks to the east, is well underway. Across the street, the Curry’s Furniture building is slated for demolition, though the owners have not revealed their plans for it yet. A banner on the empty retail building next door promises that it will soon be the site of student housing. “I’m down,” Ruiz says, contemplating a constant supply of hungry college students. “I think I was one of those.”
High school graduation night was a prime example of young people in the mood to eat a lot food until well past closing time. “We had such a good night,” Ruiz recalls. “The kitchen was still taking orders at 9:00. We clocked out at almost midnight.”
Adding to the party atmosphere, there’s also regular live music at El Molcajete. From 6:30 until closing time on most Friday nights, the local Mariachi Hernandez starts taking requests, serenading individual tables with traditional Mexican music. They are visible from the street, on the patio under the oak trees in their gleaming charro suits, playing so energetically it’s hard to imagine how anyone could sit still.
There are other festive details, too. Large vibrant artworks adorn the wall. One colorful image shows a woman with flowers and a skull painted onto her face, to celebrate Day of the Dead. The low wall around the bar is decorated with Talaveras tiles in different patterns, some floral, some geometric.
The bar is not purely decorational, though. In addition to sangria, wine, beer, and homemade non-alcoholic aguas frescas, patrons can order margaritas in a variety of flavors: strawberry, lime, mango, and even sangria and Coronarita. (Yes, that is a margarita containing an overturned bottle of Corona, in case you couldn’t decide which you prefer.) Just eight weeks after throwing open the doors at the new location, a new and expanded menu was already in the works, set to include cocktails (including mixed drinks with red and white wine), filet mignon, and other specialties from the grill. The kitchen is equipped with an indoor grill, and the outdoor BBQ pit is unlikely to sit idle for long.
Portions at El Molcajete are a serious commitment. Huge burritos, thicker than a middle-aged woman’s forearm, emerge from the kitchen drenched in red sauce. A special plate called the “Gringa” consists of half a pineapple with melted cheese and pastor, salsa, and onions. Of course, it also has the rice, beans, and tortillas that make it a proper meal. All the plates, bowls, and cups are made in Mexico, painted with brightly colored flowers. The mugs fit snugly in the palms of your hands, so you have something to hold onto as you gaze off into space, stunned by the amount of food you’ve just consumed. The chairs are handmade in Mexico, too, with backrests made of dried grapevines and padded with red leather covered in hand-painted flowers.
Everyone remembers how during the pandemic, schools and businesses shuttered. Ruiz recalls that when she came to Ukiah from Mexico, she dreamed about her high school graduation. She would walk across the stage in front of hundreds of people. Maybe there would be a party afterwards, like the one she saw this year in the restaurant. But in 2020, her graduation was a subdued affair. “This is our event?” she thought. It was one of many heartbreaks during covid. But even though she was disappointed, she resolved that “you have to keep going forward.”
Now a young adult, she’s determined to be part of the recovery. Construction is going on all around her. Old buildings are coming down. New ones are going up. Mendocino Community College has made an arrangement with Sonoma State to offer four-year degrees at the Ukiah campus. Hungry young people will be moving in, right next door to a thriving local business.
El Molcajete is positioned to take part in what comes next.
El Molcajete
225 East Perkins St, Ukiah
(707) 468-8989
Open weekdays 10am - 9pm, weekends 9am - 9pm
Sarah Reith enjoys wildlife, gardening, and lounging around in her wild garden in inland Mendocino County.
Photos courtesy of El Molcajete
Feeding Caspar
A Community Breakfast Dishing Next-Level Food
by Holly Madrigal
Pancake breakfasts evoke a host of nostalgic memories for me. I can remember many mornings in a large hall, greeting old-timers and inhaling the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon. At its core, the pancake breakfast is about community—a group of folks who want to provide an affordable meal to their friends and neighbors, offering delicious nourishment and the rare opportunity to relax, chat, and get caught up on the local goss.
Soon after it was formed in 2000, the Caspar Community Center decided to organize and host a monthly community breakfast. Dalen Anderson raised her hand and volunteered. She had just retired from a leadership role at Whale Gulch School, and was ready for a new challenge. She proceeded to create a seasonal monthly menu, then spent the next 25 years organizing scores of volunteers to serve up exceptional breakfast fare for a multitude of delighted diners.
Dalen looks for what is in season and local, including what's in her own home garden in Caspar's sunbelt where mounds of dahlias and roses share space with pole beans and luscious basil. She strolls among the zucchini and lettuces, looking for a particular combination of ingredients that will make the community meal really shine. “You know gathering the volunteers to make the community breakfast is the best disaster preparedness we could imagine. When you are working together and cooking together you get to know one another,” says Dalen. “I learned early on that if your fundraiser has a food component, you will get many more helpers.”
Anyone can enjoy the fun and feasting by showing up on the fourth Sunday of the month between 9:00 and 11:00am. Dalen and her many volunteers will have spent the day prior preparing the menu. “I'm a bit of a recipe nerd,” she says. “We usually have four entree options, always one that is vegan and gluten free,” she shares. “I’ll make hearty huevos rancheros or Queen's Puff, which includes sausage and mashed potatoes folded in and baked in an egg custard. We did a salmon quiche the other day that was very popular.”
Jennie Stevens, the volunteer coordinator, exclaims, “That quiche was so delicious! I also loved the Monte Cristo, which I had never tried before. It was a ham and cheese sandwich prepared like French toast and dusted with powdered sugar. That was a decadent savory-sweet treat.” Vegan options might include a sweet potato hash with roasted vegetables.
Dalen has honed her skill for bringing out the best in her high quality ingredients. “I really believe that everyone should have the opportunity to try healthy, nutritious food that is delicious,” she adds. Over time she has learned what vegan options are popular, like roasted seasonal veggies over quinoa with a tahini dressing. “People tell me they want something that they won't make at home,” she laughs. “I always have a number of breads, cakes, and pastries—some gluten-free so that everyone can enjoy them. We have some neighbors who just want eggs, potatoes, and coffee. It is really a way to feed the whole community.”
And community is what this is. The physical hamlet of Caspar has a population of around 500 but the impact of the Community Center reaches far beyond these boundaries. “Caspar Community Center has become a gathering place for the whole coast,” says Paul Schulman, Dalen’s husband. The warm space with soaring ceilings and faceted glass cupola is a former schoolhouse. The ten-member board and dedicated community members generously donate their time to this thriving hub. Many events are hosted in the space, from weddings and quinceañeras to concerts and tango lessons. What makes all these offerings possible is the work of a small staff and a dedicated group of volunteers.
For each breakfast, the team of volunteers serves between 80 to 100 meals. Dalen's grandkids are now getting involved. She describes how “they will come to serve breakfast and just the other day they made over two hundred cookies for CasparFest,”—their annual fundraising party. “It has been such a pleasure to work with everyone over the years,” she concludes.
“We are actively encouraging new volunteers to come introduce themselves,” says Jennie. “People still find out about us from posters that we put up around the coast. We reach out on social media and Instagram, but we’ve also had people come to the community breakfast because of a flyer, some made by local artist and Caspar volunteer Michelle Noe. I work with folks to find out how they want to pitch in,” she adds. “Dalen has created these amazing breakfasts for more than twenty years, and we need to think about this next generation of chefs. We need to cultivate new cooks to help carry these breakfasts into the future.”
It was a big step when the Caspar Community Center was able to hire paid staff to take on some of the tasks that the volunteers had been doing. Jennie is the volunteer coordinator, and Nick Gueli manages rentals. Sienna Potts works with everyone on the business side to keep the place running smoothly. The dedicated board members and volunteers are too many to name but their hard work and dedication have brought the Community Center to where it is today. “After years and years of fundraising and some generous donations we were able to pay off the mortgage this year,“ smiles Dalen. “That is a huge accomplishment and now the board is deciding what projects to tackle next. Teaching the next group of volunteers is a big part of that.”
Events at the Caspar Community Center have such a good feeling—the love that is poured into this place is palpable. “We’re planning some game nights in the fall with snacks available and drinks to purchase,” shares Jennie.
Local mom Emily Ellickson Brown loves bringing her 8-year-old son Ray. “The Caspar Community Center is amazing because we can come for breakfast or game night, and when Ray is done he can go to the playground or hang out with other kids. I know he’s having fun and that the community is looking out for him. The adults can still socialize knowing that the space is protected, and the kids can run around and just be kids.”
The center is also a great way for new arrivals to find their niche. New residents Emma and Connor just moved up from the Bay Area and showed up at one breakfast to ask how they could help. Neighbors had encouraged them to volunteer as a way to meet other members of the community. Emma is a baker and Connor works in the natural wine business, so contributing to a monthly food event is a great fit.
It is easy to get into personal habits like hitting the couch after work and zoning out on your digital device, but there is another option. You can add the Caspar Community Breakfast to your calendar and share a couple of hours with your neighbors. The menu on offer is innovative and fresh and will delight your tastebuds. The community connections you make along the way will fill your heart as well as your belly.
Caspar Community Center Monthly Breakfast
Fourth Sunday of the month (except December) 9:00 - 11:00 am
15051 Caspar Rd., Caspar CA
(707) 964-4997
View the calendar or sign up for the mailing list at casparcommons.org.
To volunteer, contact Jennie at casparvolunteer@gmail.com.
To rent the space, contact Nick at casparevents@gmail.com.
Holly Madrigal is a Mendocino County maven who loves to share the delights of our region. She takes great joy in publishing this magazine.
Photos by Holly Madrigal
Mendocino County’s Local Food Guide
Find Out Who is Growing What in Our County
by Lisa Ludwigsen
Mendocino County is known for its rugged coast, towering redwoods, and picturesque vineyards. There’s also a deep tradition of small family farms and ranches providing residents and visitors with fresh, seasonal food year-round. From produce to dairy, poultry, beef, fish, nuts, honey, and fruit, Mendocino County’s network of small farms offers something for everyone.
This year marks the third printing of the Mendocino County Local Food Guide, a valuable resource for anyone wanting to support local agriculture and eat truly delicious food. In a county with under 100 farms spread over 3,500 square miles, the guide explains what farmers are growing, how they are growing it, and where to buy it.
The Local Food Guide started back in 2004, when the Anderson Valley Foodshed, a group dedicated to encouraging support for local agriculture, adopted the “C’mon Home to Eat” campaign. A foodshed is a concept that describes the geographic area that produces the food for a particular population. It’s often compared to a watershed.
“C’mon Home to Eat” challenged residents to eat entirely from local sources—specified as within a 100-mile radius— for the month of October. The goal was simple: to connect eaters with growers.
To that end, the Anderson Valley Foodshed compiled lists of farms and other food production sources. Those lists grew in subsequent years and eventually turned into the first printed issue of the Local Food Guide in 2007.
Linda McElwee, one of those original Anderson Valley Foodshed members, is excited to be involved with this new printed issue. “I’ve been dedicated to this guide since the first issue because I believe that the information is important for everyone in our county,” shared McElwee. “The Local Food Guide is meant to be a resource, used over time. This new edition has planting charts and harvesting guides for people to refer to as the years continue,” she added.
A second edition came out in 2009, and a website— mendolocalfood.org—launched in 2011. That website has been reworked a few times in the intervening years, evolving into a comprehensive resource for all things food and farming in the county. Want to know when your local farmers market or other events are happening? Check the guide. You’ll also find listings of local agencies, educational opportunities, community gardens, and more. A scroll through the website’s farm guide paints a colorful picture of the rich tapestry of farms and ranches, and the people who make it all happen throughout the county. Linda and the guide’s production team are also excited to be sharing more information on local aquaculture.
The guide has always been a labor of love, made possible by a small group of mostly volunteers. For this new print edition, local artist Michelle Noe contributed the cover artwork and Torrey Douglass of Lemon Fresh Design (and this magazine) did the graphic design. Milena Duenas translated the guide into Spanish. McElwee added, “We do our best to reach out to all local food producers but occasionally miss one. If you’re a farmer who wants to be included in the online guide you can add your farm through the website.”
Financial support came from the MendoLake Food Hub, a program of North Coast Opportunities, which won a USDA grant designed to connect local farmers with food pantries. Food pantries, soup kitchens, and food banks provide an essential part of food security in the county, and are included in both the print and online versions the guide. Many of these organizations welcome donations of excess produce from farms and gardens.
In a food system dominated by large-scale industrial agriculture, the Mendocino Local Food Guide is more than just a list of places to buy food. It is a dynamic force that champions the viability of small farms, empowers residents with access to healthy, delicious food, and offers visitors an unparalleled, authentic taste of Mendocino’s agricultural heritage.
Find a printed Local Food Guide at independent grocers, farmers markets, and other spots around the county. Find the information online at mendolocalfood.org.
Lisa Ludwigsen has been working in environmental education and small-scale agriculture for 25 years. She chronicles her experiences and travels at Food, Farms & Families at lisaludwigsen.substack.com
Photo by Torrey Douglass
Absentee Winery
Surfing Fermentation to Make Refreshing Apple Wine
story by Holly Madrigal
photos by Nik Zvolensky
The sea changes each day, every moment. The surf that pulls you in might be serene and calm as you wait for the break. Or it could be rough and erratic, requiring all your attention to catch the next ride. Focus is necessary but so is letting go—the magic happens when you are in the flow.
Avi Deixler was drawn to the Mendocino Coast in part so he could surf. When the waves are good, he’s out on the water. When they are not, he’s making wine. A transplant from Point Reyes, Avi moved north in search of a more flexible schedule and escape from the blindingly high cost of Bay Area living.
Once here, Avi’s life centered around two resources the rugged Mendocino Coast has in abundance: waves and apples. “My friend Aaron Brown, who is a fellow cider maker, cultivated a network of abandoned orchards around Sonoma and Mendocino counties,” he shares. “One of them happened to be in Fort Bragg, just a few minutes from my house, so it just made sense for him to pass the care of those trees on to me.”
In 2014, Avi was working in Napa in the wine business. After the harvest, his friend got hold of a bounty of apples from further north. “So we juiced them, I shaved three oak barrels and bottled it up. I added a little bit of frozen juice before I left to make it sparkling. It was good. But I was supposed to go to France to learn more so I left one barrel here while I was gone,” Avi remembers with a smile. “I didn’t have enough time to bottle it so I took off. While I was absent, the fermentation continued on its own. When I returned I tasted it and it blew my mind ... Absentee Wines was born! It was my absence, and my trust in the process, that made it so amazing.”
Avi’s passion for fermentation brought him to the wine industry. “I was fortunate enough to travel the world learning about wine,” he says. “I made a friend in Australia named Florent. He came from Burgundy but we met in Australia and became friends. He came to Napa to work for a crazy prestigious winery, Screaming Eagle. I was working at Rudd Estate at that time and Florent sponsored me to work for a year in Burgundy. I arrived in spring and did the harvest, pruning, and wine-making. We learned from each other.”
While in Burgundy, Avi traveled the country and visited different wineries. “I found a really remarkable person in Anjou in the Loire Valley. His son is named Baptiste Cousin. Baptiste used a corner of his dad’s cellar for his own wine,” Avi remembers. “He makes really good, thoughtful wines. He was able to be a bit punk rock about it but still keep the essence of the work. That guy was super informative. The more I met people making wine with this ethos—that was fun and inclusive and natural and not fear-based—the more it helped me conquer the fear of natural fermentation and aging that was instilled in me as a young assistant winemaker.”
Back in California, Avi studied the importance of wood barrels. Working closely with a cooperage, he learned the art of toasting the wood and shaving the barrels to expose a fresh surface. “I have these skills with the barrels. So much of the dynamic and character in a wine is done by the wood, the exchange of wood and liquid. It doesn’t taste good without that magic.”
Avi describes how wood barrels influence his apple wine. “The soil has all this flavor to impart from terroir, but so does wood. The flavor and essence come from the interaction with the barrel. When I was learning winemaking I did not have access to the vineyard to make changes with the pruning, the water, and subsoil. So I learned to adjust flavors in the barrel.” The juice stays in the barrels for three or four weeks for the initial fermentation, then goes through malolactic fermentation. “There is diverse culture living in there so it takes a while for all the microbes to get their share,” he explains. “There are not as many sugars turning to alcohol. I have an understanding of limiting oxidation from my days in conventional wine. So a barrel is a good option because it’s closed to free-flowing air but still lets enough oxygen in through the fibers of the barrel to keep the culture inside aerobic, living.”
Avi’s focus on the barrels reflects his interest in natural wine making, an approach that avoids chemical interventions. “I realized there was a certain essence of winemaking that I was interested in capturing. That is why I leaned into natural winemaking processes. I like wines made by a careful, talented hand. I got burned out in the wine business and so when the opportunity arrived my then-partner Natasha and I decided to move north.“ Many California regions that now grow wine grapes were originally planted in apples, like Sebastopol, Alexander Valley, and Anderson Valley. “Once we moved up here it seemed a natural evolution to transition to apple wine. The processes are the same: fruit, ferment, preserve, drink,” Avi reflects.
Once he relocated, Avi reconnected with a number of farmers he had known earlier in his career. “There are orchards and ranches way out in the hills with these antique varietals in them. I have made relationships with orchard owners. Historically the orchards were tended but now they have been able to grow a bit feral. That legacy is what makes it so rich. That’s how I like it,” he adds with a smile.
Avi is grateful for his network of forward-thinking farmers and chefs on the Mendocino Coast. “I’m a cook at heart, food is my passion,” he says. “So when I had the chance to take my knowledge of wine and shift it to apple wine, it let me live here in a more authentic way. Living here has allowed me to learn how to surf and to create an apple wine that is the result of all of my knowledge in fermenting to this point in time.”
Avi has a wine production space in the forest, not far from the sea. It’s dimly lit and stacks of barrels fill the cool interior. “Some of this wine has spent time on the skins. The Pink Pearl apple wine for example. It has this rose color. I added this juice to red wine barrels to enhance the hue. Apples offer similar aspects as grapes—tannins, color, flavor—from the skins. I believe there are those same factors in apple juice. I’m trying to have fun with it.” He pours a glass of the Pink Pearl and the rouge glow sparkles with light effervescence.
“People in wine can sometimes look down on those who make cheese, or other products. They get a bit high and mighty. I’m bringing all my grape wine skills to apple wine, and I believe there is a market for it. Apple wine has the same level of flavor complexity with a connection to this place. I’m working with restaurants in San Francisco who want to do food and apple wine pairings.” Local natural wine enthusiast Nathan Maxwell Cann describes Absentee Wines like this: “It doesn’t taste like cider, or wine, or anything you’ve had before. It’s raw, alive, and stubborn as the trees it came from. You don’t drink it — you meet it.” When he’s not conducting the fermentation process in his apple wine cave like an obsessed orchestra conductor, Avi is surfing. Out on the ocean, he watches for that next wave, the next break, always seeking that flow state that he brings to his apple wine fermentation, capturing the taste of this wild coast for you to enjoy.
Absentee Wines are available at Fog Bottle Shop, The Brickery at Cafe Beaujolais in Mendocino, and Maritime Cafe in Elk.
Roots Herbal Apothecary
Point Arena’s Plant-Medicine-and-More Shop
by Lisa Ludwigsen
Humans have always relied on plants to nourish and heal us. The ancient art and science of healing with plants, called phytotherapy, traces back to the beginning of human civilization. From ancient Egypt to traditional Chinese medicine and Ayurvedic medicine in India, plants were the primary tools for health and healing.
Over time, European folk medicine also developed a rich tradition of herbal knowledge, passed on through formulas shared by apothecaries and local healers. In the 1800s the modern pharmaceutical industry was born when advances in chemistry began isolating individual constituents in plants, shifting the focus away from whole plant medicine. A great example is the salicylic acid derived from willow bark that serves as the main ingredient in today’s aspirin.
Most of us have lost that connection to plant medicine beyond making a cup of chamomile tea to relax. Luckily, there are still people with strong relationships to plants who hold and share the knowledge of how to engage with them.
You’ll find one of those knowledgeable and generous people in Jacqueline Strock, the owner of Roots Herbal Apothecary, located on Main Street in the tiny town of Point Arena. Jacqueline has been in business over 20 years, building a loyal following from the locals and tourists who visit her shop. The apothecary is at once a step back in time and an inspiring introduction to a modern-day apothecary. “People always think my customers are mostly tourists,” said Strock. “In fact, 90% are locals along with a good group of tourists who have been here before and make a point of stopping in.” She added with a chuckle, “I get all the cool tourists.”
Strock founded the store almost by accident. “I attended herb school in Boulder and then moved to Mendocino County with my husband,” she recalled. “I thought I would be a farmer but realized it wasn’t for me. When we bought some land near Point Arena, I opened the apothecary.”
After 21 years running the store, Jacqueline still loves what she does and is especially pleased with the community. “People tell me they feel better when they leave the store than they did coming in. That makes me very happy.”
“My store is really rootsy,” shared Strock. She sells her own line of salves, lip balm, hair oil, and tea blends. She also stocks bulk herbs for folks to make their own teas and herbal products. “I don’t offer formal consultations but I’m always happy to provide guidance and answer questions.”
Besides the herbal products like teas, tinctures, and salves, the shop carries crafts and gifts, many sourced from women-owned businesses. Wares include jewelry, soaps, kitchen goods, books, and more. These often pop up on the store’s Instagram account, @rootsherbalapothecary. Kitchen and garden posts can share a recipe, talk about an herb, or explain the benefits of a particular wild-harvested plant.
Empowering others to explore the world of plant medicine and create their own brings Jacqueline genuine joy. “I like to light a spark and inspire people to do this themselves,” she said. And while she is often too busy with the store to set up her own workshops, she is delighted to be invited to other events to share what she knows. She can bring projects and instruction to a kids’ summer camp, a harvest festival, or any other gathering of plant-minded people.
In a world racing to get nowhere, it is comforting to find a spot where a person can check in, find a friendly face, and perhaps learn a bit about plant medicine. There is a world of plants and their remedies available for you to discover, and Jacqueline can help you do that.
Roots Herbal Apothecary
240 Main St, Point Arena
(707) 882-2699 | rootsherbalapothecary.org
Open Mon - Fri 10am - 5pm, Sat 12pm - 5pm
Photos courtesy of Roots Herbal Apothecary
Hive Mind
The Surprising Mental Health Benefits of Beekeeping
by Ben Seal
Tucked away in the shaded corner of a community garden in New Haven, Connecticut, a beehive awaits. Seven teenagers are here to check on their beehive’s health, but before they do, they need to prepare themselves for the moment. Gathered beneath a bountiful oak tree, they pull on their bee suits—pink and white and pale green— and don protective gloves and face coverings to avoid any risk of a sting.
They bathe in the fog that spills out from a handheld smoker filled with burning white pine needles. It will mask any pheromones the bees emit and keep them calm during the inspection. The teens take a breath, steady their nerves, and approach the hive.
These are beekeepers-in-residence with the Huneebee Project, a nonprofit that offers youth beekeeping training in a therapeutic context, focused primarily on those with experience in the foster care system. Since 2018, the organization has graduated 11 cohorts from its 15-week program, which helps teens develop job skills and build community— with humans and insects alike—while tending to a hive.
Lead beekeeping instructor Tim Dutcher guides the youth as they visit a hive they painted and installed last week, kept in wooden boxes about the size of file cabinets. As their fears subside, they take turns holding frames they built themselves in the program’s first month, now draped in thousands of industrious bees that have begun to fill them with honeycomb. The queen is healthy, the brood— the new eggs, larvae and pupae—are emerging, and all is well.
Ray, 16, perhaps the group’s most gregarious and enthusiastic member, looks down in awe as he picks up a frame. It’s his first time meeting the bees and already, he says, he finds them “calming.”
Huneebee founder and board member Sarah Taylor, a licensed clinical social worker with a background in child and family therapy, says the process helps the young beekeepers navigate and heal from the depression, anxiety and trauma many of them have experienced during often turbulent childhoods. The interconnectedness of the bees seems to strike a chord, she says.
“There’s something hopeful in beekeeping,” Taylor says. “There’s something uniting and wholesome.”
Taylor says she has seen profound change in those who complete the program, many of whom are referred by therapists who hope that a hands-on practice can support their mental health. For some, like Ray, talk therapy can feel like the wrong tool for the job.
The youth at Huneebee aren’t alone in finding beekeeping to be a helpful alternative or complement to more traditional therapies. Last fall, an Army veteran turned scientist published early research showing reductions in anxiety and depression and improvements in overall health among military veterans engaged in beekeeping as a recreational therapy. Another study found a positive effect on stress and well-being among college students who took part in beekeeping.
These findings support longstanding anecdotal evidence that the buzz of a beehive can help people address dislocation and disconnection and have catalyzed the emergence of a new therapeutic model that’s already making a difference for the teens in New Haven and many others.
“They can have all these worries, all these big burdens they’re carrying with them, and then what happens when they go and open up a beehive is that those worries and burdens fade into the background,” Taylor says. “They have this moment of peace and amazement and appreciation.”
When Adam Ingrao was medically discharged from active military duty, the return home was jarring. He was prescribed a steady diet of opiates to deal with his ankle, knee and back injuries, which he used alongside alcohol to numb the pain of his disability and quiet the survivor’s guilt that followed him everywhere he went. In a bid to reshape his future, he went to college to study plant science. That’s where he met the bees that changed his life.
The first time Ingrao entered a bee yard, “it was transformative,” he says. “I knew this is what I wanted to do.” Among the bees, he could step away from his daily stressors while developing a reciprocal relationship that taught him the skills to live a more harmonious life. More than a decade later, he has a PhD in entomology and has shared his experience with over 15,000 veterans who have taken part in Heroes to Hives, a nine-month program that combines beekeeping education and training with mindfulness and therapeutic practices.
Last fall, in collaboration with the Manchester VA of New Hampshire and the University of New Hampshire, Ingrao published the first evidence-based findings on beekeeping’s benefits for veterans in Therapeutic Recreation Journal. The research documented the beneficial effects on mental health of a program run at the VA by recreational therapist Valerie Carter, including reductions in feelings of anxiety and depression, as well as increases in positive feelings regarding overall health.
The therapeutic program built on other animal therapies that have come before it, such as equine therapy. Over the course of 16 weeks, participants worked with a recreational therapist and volunteer beekeeper to learn the ins and outs of an apiary and engage in a range of mind-body practices, including diaphragmatic breathing, yoga, guided imagery and five-senses mindfulness.
In Connecticut, Huneebee’s youth conduct grounding exercises before approaching a hive to get in touch with themselves. These practices prepare the beekeepers for the sensory experience of being among the bees, including the sound of a hive in motion, which an apprentice once described to Dutcher as “a choir of bees singing.” In the process, the beekeepers develop the mindfulness required to care for the bees safely.
“If you’re not focused on your bees,” Ingrao says, “they’ll let you know.”
For individuals dealing with trauma, he suggests, the hive demands a level of presence that can be powerful in overcoming the instinct to hide. Traumatic experiences and other mental health challenges often leave people feeling fragmented and isolated, but beekeeping can serve as an antidote of sorts by encouraging people to connect with the community in their midst, says Amelia Mraz, a former Temple University student.
While studying undergraduate psychology and struggling with mental health challenges including anxiety and depression, Mraz says, she signed up for a semester-long beekeeping course and quickly fell into it. The practice was meditative and therapeutic, she says.
Five years later, now with a master’s in public health, she opened an apiary in Philadelphia, Half Mad Honey, to help bring therapy out of the clinical setting and into nature. Today, she shares that experience with community members in search of their own healing.
“It’s amazing to be connected to the hive mind,” she says.
Last year, Mraz co-authored a paper that described a pilot study that found beekeeping in a therapeutic context helped reduce college students’ stress and improved their well-being. She and Olivia Ciraulo, a graduate student at Saint Joseph’s University, published the research in the journal Occupational Therapy in Mental Health.
For the teens involved with Huneebee, there’s a sense of kinship and community to be found in caring for a hive. Dutcher, the beekeeping instructor, sees it this way: Relationships can be fraught for people who have had complicated experiences with other human beings in the past. But connections with non-human beings can be simpler and set the stage for growth. The organization keeps their cohorts intentionally small, between five and seven members, so everyone has the opportunity to build a relationship with the bees if they’re interested.
Beekeeping also offers a sense of purpose, which can be empowering for anyone going through transition, Ingrao says, whether that’s returning from military service or navigating a tumultuous experience at home. “Beekeeping is an identity,” he says. “You are a beekeeper. And it’s recognized by the public.”
New Haven resident Alex Guzman started as a beekeeper-in-residence at 14 and soon found that taking on a new identity had a galvanizing effect. Bullied from a young age, she was socially anxious and struggled to maintain friendships. She had attempted suicide multiple times, and was just beginning to understand trauma and the ways it can reverberate through a life. Then her therapist handed her a flyer for the Huneebee Project. Connecting with the bees offered her an opportunity to decompress and ground herself. Around the hive, she could find her breath and clear her head.
“Through beekeeping, I started finding more importance in other things, too—the importance of actually going outside, the importance of taking care of what’s around me,” she says.
After completing the program, she stayed involved with Huneebee and is now a junior beekeeping instructor—a role that allows her to work with the hives in addition to visiting schools to educate students about bees. She never could have spoken publicly before becoming a beekeeper, she says. Although she still sees herself as a work in progress, the progress is evident. Now 21, she’s preparing to manage a hive of her own. Beekeeping may be work for her, but it’s also a form of therapy, she says.
In caring for an entire community, beekeepers are often presented with opportunities to connect over profound life experiences they might not otherwise have, Taylor says. She recalls the first time she and Guzman opened a “deadout” together in early spring—a colony whose members had all died in winter’s cold. It felt crushing, she says, to see the end of all those bees they’d become attached to.
But the experience opened up conversations about the purpose of the hive and the comb that remained. Within a few weeks, they knew, the hive would be repopulated by new bees that could continue the work of the collapsed colony. Feelings of pain and sadness gave way to a sense of hope and optimism, a sense of healing and renewal.
“Bees are a perfect example of what a community should look like,” Guzman says. “A bunch of people getting together to make something better and bigger than themselves that other people can keep building on.”
This story was originally published by MindSite News, an independent, nonprofit journalism site focused on mental health, and Reasons to be Cheerful, a nonprofit publication about solutions. Sign up for Reasons to be Cheerful’s weekly newsletter and the MindSite News Daily newsletter on their websites: reasonstobecheerful.world / mindsitenews.org
Ben Seal is a freelance journalist based in Philadelphia who writes about our relationships with one another and the world around us. More of his work is available at ben-seal.com.
Janie’s Dahlias
Fort Bragg’s Dahlia Queen Keeps Blooming
story by Torrey Douglass
photos by Nik Zvolensky
Janie Larsen-Notmeyer may well be to dahlias what Johnny Appleseed was to apples. For the last 30 years, everywhere she has lived, Janie has planted her favorite flower. It might be just a pot on the porch or a little corner of the yard, but if she was there for any length of time, dahlias went into dirt.
Dahlias are not shy. They come in all sorts of colors, from hot hues like oranges and pinks to purple and even black. The petals might be rolled, fringed, flat, or even mimic cactus spikes. Shapes vary as well, including balls, starbursts, pompoms, and more. Blooms can be 11⁄2 inches in diameter all the way up to a whopping 10 inches, like the Dinnerplate Dahlias. In some varieties, the number of petals is sparse, like an orchid. In others they are abundant, with a multitude of small petals gathered in a tight spiral. Some have the charming look of a child’s drawing, with petals the shape of fat teardrops attached to a central circle.
With such an impressive array of colors, sizes, and shapes available, it’s no wonder the showy dahlia stole Janie’s heart—the same heart she followed to Fort Bragg a decade ago. She met Barry Notmeyer in 2008 while living in Petaluma and raising four daughters on her own. For seven years they visited each other whenever possible. Once her girls were launched, Janie moved up to Fort Bragg and they married.
The pair started their new chapter together on a three-acre property three miles inland from Fort Bragg. Suddenly Janie had a lot more space for planting dahlias, and she did not waste the opportunity. As her number of plants grew, so did the idea of selling them at local farmers markets. She kept the notion to herself until one day she finally admitted to Barry, “I’m going to have all these dahlias, and I have a dream of selling them at the farmers market.” Not only would it provide an outlet for her dahlia passion, it would get her away from her desk—where she works remotely for an education nonprofit—and out around people. “It’s not easy to come [to Fort Bragg] at my age and make friends up here,” Janie reflects. “Selling is a way to get connected into the community.”
Barry was immediately supportive. He enlisted a friend with a backhoe to dig the first two rows in 2019, and a couple hundred tubers went into the ground. By the second year they expanded the garden to 500 plants. Over time they’ve worked hard to get the soil just right “The size and health of the plants have exploded since that first year,” Janie remembers. She did a lot of reading, and learned to use a hand vacuum to suck up cucumber beetles as soon as she saw them. “They are not an issue if you get on them early,” she shares. While the farm is not certified, they do grow organically, water with well water, and compost everything.
They also have a market garden where they grow crops like snow peas, broccoli, cauliflower and chard. “But dahlias are the main thing,” Janie confirms.
The property’s distance from the coastline locates them out of reach from the chilly fingers of coastal fog. The flowers love the sun and heat, and by mid- to late-July, they are ready for market. On Saturday mornings during her selling season, Janie sets up a table in the parking lot of Adventist Health Medical Center on Fort Bragg’s Main Street. There she sells pre-made arrangements for $20 each. “People heading to a party will grab a bouquet,” she says. “I really love getting creative and putting different colors together, then adding a little greenery.” She favors yellows, pinks, and whites in the summer, while fall offerings include more oranges and reds.
Janie also sells a few pre-made arrangements at farmers markets in Mendocino (Fridays) and Fort Bragg (Wednesdays), but the main attraction is always the build-your-own option. Customers select their stems and take them home in a cellophane envelope with water in the bottom and tied with raffia. Regulars often bring their own vases to skip the plastic.
Selling to the public has had the desired outcome of connecting Janie to her new community. She’s known as a local dahlia expert now, teaching workshops at the Mendocino Coast Botanical Garden—dividing tubers in the spring and tending dahlias in the summer. With their long growing season, dahlias are a great choice for events many months of the year. Janie’s Dahlias have graced birthdays, funerals, and weddings.
Growing and tending a ginormous dahlia garden is a dream come true for Janie. “When it’s dahlia season I have them all over, vases in almost every room. I have withdrawal in the winter,” she reflects. “There are so many colors and textures—I just love them. Some bloom into November!”
One of Janie’s favorite aspects of her garden is the abundance of wildlife that has evolved with it, including frogs, spiders, and bees. ”I absolutely love that we got a beautiful bumblebee population we never had,” she says. “The bumblebees cover themselves in the pollen, then sleep inside of the big dahlias overnight. In the mornings they don’t move, so I can’t cut those in the morning. They only wake up when the sun heats them up.”
Dahlias exude delight as they turn their multicolored faces to the ever-generous sun. It’s like they are happy to be where they are and can’t help but express it. The same goes for Janie, who loves where she is and what she’s doing.
Janie’s Dahlias
janiesdahlias.com | janiesdahlias@gmail.com
Buy dahlias at the Fort Bragg (Wed) and Mendocino farmers markets (Fri) and on the corner of Cypress & Main Street on Saturdays through October.
Torrey Douglass is a web and graphic designer living in Boonville. Current life joys include garden puttering and escaping into a good book.
Sleep, Creep, Leap
Solving the Puzzle of Perennials
by Gowan Batist
After a decade at Fortunate Farm, I still haven’t harvested fruit from trees I’ve planted here. I grew up next to the ocean on land we shared with my grandma. She grew beautiful apple trees—whose branches I would climb—plus many colors of rose bushes and rows of raspberry vines, all without deer fencing. My best memories of childhood have the smell of sweet, slightly fermented fallen fruit and the hum of bees. I always thought I would have a garden like hers when we moved onto our own farm.
There were a few ancient, hollow-trunked apple trees that still bore fruit on the farm when we arrived, but they have mostly since blown over in winter storms. There was a red plum totally taken over by its rootstock and climbed by gorse, and a pear, which in the early days never fruited due to lack of a pollinator. Not knowing what variety it was, in about 2016 I grafted several scions I got at the Boonville Seed and Scion exchange, hoping that one of them would be compatible with the main tree. The tree did make fruit after that, but a hard woody Bosc type that never ripened. We are so close to the ocean we can hear the seals and smell the salt, so maybe that isn’t surprising.
Between the two barns on our driveway stands a towering chestnut, a Chinese hybrid, which blooms heavily every spring and makes thousands of spiny burs, filled with flat, empty nuts. Legend has it that there used to be a pollinator tree, but that it cracked in half and died long before we arrived. I planted a mix of chestnut seedlings from Burnt Ridge Nursery in 2015, and the few that survived the deer are just now beginning to flower. I don’t know if they will be able to pollinate our huge tree, but I have hope.
The reasons why we didn’t plant many perennial crops like fruit trees and cane berries are these:
1) We are very close to the ocean, with salty soil and few chilling hours, meaning many fruit trees won’t do well here.
2) Our soil is very sandy until about 3-4 feet down, where it becomes an impermeable layer of Graywacke sandstone. In winter the ground is very wet, which rots tree roots. In summer, the sandy soil drains nutrients and water a bit too well. Adding organic matter buffers both of these effects, but takes time. It’s also harder to work around perennial plants when planting cover crops, grazing sheep, and spreading mulch.
3) Our farm is absolutely covered in two very aggressive non-native plants: Holcus grass, also known as velvet grass, and gorse. Many native plants I initially transplanted were lost to overshadowing by both. Plus, working around the transplants makes dealing with the gorse much more complicated and expensive.
4) The deer. For most of the farm’s history we have not had an effective deer fence. We have mostly grown crops that are deer resistant, such as dahlias and pumpkins, and accepted some loss of our kale and beets. Attempts were made. In 2015 we valiantly encircled the growing area in 10 foot t-posts and hung black plastic deer mesh. The deer responded by sprinting straight through it, leaving vertical, deer shaped slashes. We were never able to afford metal fencing, and so after also trying ultrasound devices, motion activated sprinklers, lights that flashed at night, and lines of electric fence only to watch the deer casually stroll through it all ... we gave up. Annual crops on our farm actually coexist with the deer fairly well. Our strategy is to plant enough to handle some loss, and there’s a lot of forage for them surrounding us. So as frustrating as it could sometimes be, we adapted and accepted. Fruit trees and berries were the exception to this rule. Deer would walk right past the most succulent native forage to kill our baby trees and strip our raspberry canes. We planted them, we lost them, we relented.
Initially we ordered rootstocks wholesale, and eagerly read about varieties of scions (thin branches of fruiting wood pruned off of mother trees) available for free annually at the Seed and Scion exchange. I grafted so many baby trees, and found out that I could endlessly recycle the rootstocks. If you top graft a scion into a rootstock (basically a rooted stick) you end up with a section of rootstock stick left over from above the graft. This stick would grow new roots if planted in the right conditions, enabling a new top graft the next year. I made a 10-pack of rootstocks into about 30 small apple trees in this way, before a deer ate all my rootstocks, too.
I love grafting fruit trees. In the early days of Fortunate Farm, I envisioned rows of semi-dwarf trees acting as demarcations between growing field areas—a living hedge that could block wind, bear fruit, and feed bees. I read Mark Shepherd’s book, Restoration Agriculture, and watched videos of how he transformed his former commodity crop farm into a thriving polyculture. I even met him at a conference. I attempted to follow his method of STUN: Sheer, Total, Utter Neglect. He planted trees and other perennial shrubs, gave them very little care, and then whichever ones survived he planted more of. I tried this but had no survivors. I was prepared by his book and lectures for a low success rate, but having no successes to build off of was deeply demotivating.
Eventually I started just grafting and giving away the small trees. Nothing I did to keep them alive where I lived seemed to work—wire cages got collapsed inwards by deer. Gorse and Holcus grew up through the layers of cardboard and mulch that I surrounded them with. The cool wet coastal conditions didn’t help either. It seemed that this just wasn’t the place.
As someone who is not related to the Gowan family, but whose first name was inspired by their apple orchard, I found this deeply, and a little bitterly, ironic.
In 2022, I moved into a different house on the same farm, a shuffle that better fit the needs of our family at the time. With the move came a new yard. My partner wanted fruit trees, and optimistic that being close to the house would protect them, we planted them. Deer defoliated them nightly, despite our very loud motion-activated impact sprinkler. The deer would shred the trees while simultaneously being pelted in the butt by jets of water. We built a robust deer fence around just our yard. We were able to justify the expense of fencing the smaller area since it would also keep our child out of the shared driveway. It worked.
For the first time we have lush, abundant perennial growth. We remove gorse in this protected area by hand and mow the Holcus. So far the deer haven’t figured out how to get in. We used sheep wool covered by mulch to buffer the soil around the roots. We planted apples in the lawn, elderberries in a hedge around the fence line, citrus trees in the warm sun trap against the greenhouse, kiwis and runner beans on the frame of an old chicken coop, thornless blackberries, hedges of raspberries, blueberries, currants and strawberries, and a big stand of gangly purple tree collards that look like an illustration by Dr. Suess. Better late than never, we had the beginning of something that looked like my childhood garden.
Sleep, Creep, Leap is a well-known saying in the gardening world with no definitive attribution. It refers to how a perennial plant establishes itself. The plant focuses the first year on root system development, without much to look at above ground. In the second year some above ground growth becomes more noticeable. In the third year the plant leaps, shooting ahead. Growing is not a neat algorithmic process. It doesn’t happen at an even rate, but it gallops and rests. I can see the same truth applied to our toddler, who seems to fluctuate between rapid visible periods of growth, and more internal resting and reflecting times.
In 2025, we are in our first Leap Fall on our corner of protected farm land. In the big field, the corn and beans still get grazed, the deer taking their share and leaving enough for all of us. On our one little acre, we have an incubation space for baby and perennials alike, and both are outpacing our expectations.
We chose fall-bearing, (also called everbearing) raspberries because they don’t need a trellis. Their canes stand firm and upright on their own. Instead of bearing fruit on their second year growth like June-bearing raspberries, they bear on the green growth of the first year canes. This means they can be mowed to the ground in the fall and will still fruit again the following year. I planted the raspberries according to the layout my grandma planted hers, also within sight of the ocean in Mendocino. What I didn’t remember at the time was that she planted June-bearing types. I remember the vines as fairly spindly, with a slow rate of spread, the rows planted 6’ apart. Each fall she would clip the last year’s canes and we would haul them to the brushy compost piles at the edge of the orchard, where the land sloped down towards the headlands to the beach. Then we gently trained the green new growth onto the trellis. It was all very orderly.
Either our sheep wool and compost are a more nutritious bed than she gave her canes or the fall-bearing varieties are built differently. We planted our rows 6’ apart and now there are no rows, only a green thicket as impenetrable as a dense jungle of bamboo, in which our toddler likes to pretend to be a tiger. My grandma said she grew berries so “I’ll never lose you kids”—because we would always be found picking them. With our berries, losing the toddler is a very real possibility. We’re going to have to reconsider our bed spacing this winter, but I’m loving the wild profusion, the absolute lack of efficiency of it all, the luxury that is a human scale rather than a commercial endeavor, and our kiddo, stained with juice from head to foot, in the middle of it all. It’s hard to reconcile the tiny dormant twigs we planted a few years ago with all this verdant growth. The canes are thicker than my pointer finger and stand straight and tall, higher than my head. It seems a little implausible how much our kid has grown in the same amount of time, too.
The elderberries’ umbels, wider than my head and cream yellow, coat me in pollen when I stop to breathe them in. The elderberries we planted from 3” plugs are now taller than I am, reaching their lacy compound leaves almost to the top of the fence, and our little bare root apples are spreading and widening their branches.
I used to think I couldn’t have this here, but the truth was that I just couldn’t have this everywhere. We had to pick one sheltered spot, smaller and closer to home. We had to put the upfront expense and effort into real fencing, deep mulching, and drip watering. The results have been overwhelming, and we’re eating berries. If I’d tried to do less in my twenties, I’d probably have more done now. This farm has been a particularly strict teacher in some ways, and I’ve been a particularly slow student, but some of the lessons are finally paying off.
Gowan Batist of Fortunate Farm is a Post-Industrial Pastoralist following sheep around the skeleton of a boom town. She is seldom seen, but sometimes glimpsed with a baby on her back, propagating native plants, spinning wool, hand shearing sheep, or meal prepping baby food with local bulk food via the MendoLake Food Hub.
Growing in Parallel
The Impromptu Winemaker Network at Punchdown Cellars
by Holly Madrigal
Making wine is expensive and complex. Punchdown Cellars in Santa Rosa provides equipment and infrastructure that would otherwise be out of reach for a small winery. By using their space, winemakers don’t need to manage and maintain their own production facility, and can instead focus their talents on making excellent wine. Connecting with other small-scale winemakers in the process is a bonus.
Shalini Sekhar of Ottavino Wines is one of those winemakers. She’s a former music educator specializing in the piccolo, an Indian American woman who has always forged her own path. In 2005, she and her husband decided to move to California. “When we moved here I got to explore my love of wine,” Shalini shares. “I’m a lifelong student and I began working in a tasting room to continue to learn more about California wine.” At first the job served to satisfy a personal interest, but before long that interest ripened into genuine career ambitions. “I took a complete left turn and decided to study for real. I left my previous job and began interning with winemakers.”
Shalini continues, “When I took the blazer and the heels off from the front of the house a whole new world opened up. I worked a harvest and gave it a go. I really loved it.”
Shalini returned to school to study winemaking. After several internships, she took on the role of production manager at Copain Custom Crush, the precursor to Punchdown. “Working at custom crush facilities is about helping small wineries achieve their vision. That was a rapid education, dealing full time with other people’s logistics, schedules, and needs. It was a pretty intense job,” she remembers. While there she had her first child.
Shalini’s next chapter included working with small brands like Waits-Mast Family Cellars and Furthermore Pinot Noir. “I started making wine for a family in the Santa Cruz mountains,” Shalini continues. “Neely is a small estate winery, so I was the only one in the cellar for years before we finally hired an assistant winemaker. I had my second child while working there. And then navigating a global pandemic with two small children focused my interest. I had told myself I would never have my own label, but in that time I decided to do it anyway.”
Shalini bottled her first Grüner in 2020, a wine made with a white grape called Grüner Veltliner that is mostly grown in Austria. “I knew If I was going to make my own wine it would have to be different. My husband and I have a number of friends in Austria and I really enjoy it. So Grüner was the first wine I created for my own label.”
“My second wine is St. Laurent, which I describe as if a Pinot and Syrah had a baby. It has flavors of Morello cherry, that intense red fruit. You think it is going to be all fruit and tannins but it is actually quite balanced.”
“As a South Asian woman, people ask me what wine pairs well with Indian food. High alcohol wines can be abrasive when matched against the spiced flavors, but St. Laurent is softer with the intensity and so it does not overpower. It is a delicious complement.”
Creating her wines at Punchdown Cellars brought Shalini into contact with fellow winemaker Ashley Holland. The two quickly became friends, geeking out on gear and celebrating each other’s success. Ashley is the majority owner of Read Holland wines and the force behind three other winemaking projects: Summer Dreams, Brashley Vineyards, and Adonna Wines. She’s known for her intuitive style and deep dedication to craft—always experimenting, always learning.
Ashley originally wanted to be an equine vet. An accomplished equestrian athlete, she chose that career to continue working with animals, but after a couple of years in the program, she realized it wasn’t the right fit.
Luckily she had taken a winemaking class or two in college, and the creativity it required appealed to her. She had an opportunity to travel to New Zealand, working with Two Rivers in the Marlborough region. (She used part of her moving bonus to buy a rescue horse who remains with her to this day.)
“Dave Clouston [the Two Rivers winemaker] gave me an enormous amount of responsibility in the winery,” Ashley recalls. “He allowed me to figure many things out on my own. Together we tripled production. He used to say ‘wine knows when it’s loved.’”
During the 5 years she was there, Ashley developed an expertise in Sauvignon Blanc. She eventually returned to the U.S. to work with winemaking luminaries including Ryan Prichard and Bob Cabral—respected winemakers known for shaping Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir and Chardonnay.
Ashley’s winemaking style continues to evolve. She is chasing the perfect Sauvignon Blanc and also continuing to explore how to craft singular Anderson Valley Pinot Noirs. Currently she has three clients, whom she sees as friends and collaborators.
One of those is Donna Kato, and together they are working on a wine called Adonna. She explains the joy of using high-quality fruit by working closely with the farmer, allowing her to create the wines she wants. “With a collaboration like this one, you don’t need to use any winemaking tricks. The fruit speaks for itself.”
Ashley is now the majority owner of Read Holland, overseeing and crafting all the wine they produce. “Read Holland allows me to have my own creative expression of winemaking. I focus on old vines where the growers live on their properties. The vines are an extension of their backyard. I want to preserve pieces of California viticultural history.”
While there are more and more female winemakers coming up in the industry, female principals—those who own labels and run companies—are still rare. “We’re not the only ones,” Ashley says. “Erica Stancliff is here, and Diana Ferro—the assistant winemaker for Enfield Wine Co—works out of Punchdown.” An informal professional support network has evolved, providing a balanced mix of independence and peer input. “We all have different styles, make different kinds of wine. But you value their opinion and value their palates. We have each other’s backs.”
Shalini agrees. “Before working in this cellar I was always the only one: first-gen winemaker, Indian-American winemaker, female winemaker. But here I’m not the only one. We are a collection of individuals who have formed a community working together.”
Ottavino and Read Holland wines are available for purchase and taste at Disco Ranch.
Disco Ranch
14025 Highway 128, Boonville
(707) 901-5002 | discoranch.com
ottavinowines.com
readhollandwines.com
Shalini photos courtesy of Shalini Sekhar. Ashley photos and Read Holland wines photo by Mary Zeeble and courtesy of Ashley Holland.
North Coast KelpFest!
A Weekend of Events to Elevate, Educate, and Entertain
by Sarah Reith
KelpFest! is back, examing the story of kelp through the lens of art, science, food, film, and this year, even a parade. From October 3-6, anything that happens anywhere on the Mendocino Coast will be all about kelp.
Why October, when this annual algae is at the end of its life cycle? “Last year, we held KelpFest! in the spring, at a time of birth and renewal,” explains Tristin Anoush McHugh, Kelp Project Director at The Nature Conservancy. “This year, we wanted to celebrate the senescence of the forest.” That’s when the seaweed ends its annual life cycle and dies, then washes onto the shore and attracts insects, which provide a feast for migrating birds.
In the last ten years, bull kelp forests have been devastated due to warm water and the loss of predators that control the herbivorous purple urchin. An astounding 96% of the underwater canopy along 350 kilometers of California’s north coast has vanished.
But kelp is having a cultural resurgence. From Indigenous food sovereignty to academia to economic planning initiatives, a wide coalition is working to restore this keystone species. KelpFest! is a celebration of their efforts.
The festival kicks off on Friday, October 3. The first Friday of the month is always an opportunity to tour galleries, meet artists, and see what’s new in the art world. Local galleries have been gearing up for months to offer kelp and ocean-themed exhibits.
From 4:00-6:00pm on Friday, October 3 at the Fort Bragg Town Hall on the corner of Laurel and Main streets, the public will also have a chance to learn about the art and science of aquaculture.
“I’m excited about it,” says Jami Miller, who came to Fort Bragg in 2023 as the California Sea Grant fellow working with the City of Fort Bragg on the Blue Economy—a plan to use ocean resources for sustainable economic growth. Miller is part of a team that is working on an aquaculture feasibility study. The project includes raising three species of shellfish and installing water quality sensors in promising locations, as well as monitoring three baskets of red abalone, purple urchin, and Pacific oysters at the Noyo Center Marine Field Station on North Harbor Drive. Another basket of Pacific oysters is closer to the mouth of the river, near the wharf. The project also aims to plant bull kelp in the water.
This event will include presentations from everyone who has been involved in the plan. Exhibits offering more information will be at Town Hall all weekend, along with posters by high school students who took part in a Blue Economy youth leadership pilot program.
The fun continues on Saturday, October 4. You can never have too many people in a parade! Flockworks, an arts and cultural education program, is coordinating the procession. They have been organizing after-school workshops for kids to design costumes, as well as developing a kelp curriculum for Mendocino schools. Participants will gather at the entrance to Portuguese Beach at 11:30am, then march across town to the Mendocino Arts Center for further kelp-related arts and revelry. “It won’t just be kids dressed up as seaweed,” promises Josie Iselin, author of The Curious World of Seaweed and co-director of Above/Below, an organization working to promote ocean literacy.”
That evening, the Mendocino Arts Center will host a Senescence celebration where leaders involved in kelp restoration will speak about their work. This will also be the opening of Mómim Wené, an exhibition of Indigenous arts that honor the sea.
Sunday will be a big day for science and Traditional Ecological Knowledge. The second annual Indigenous Food Festival will be from 10:00am-4:00pm at Xa Kako Dile: in Caspar. Local and visiting tribal communities will offer samples of foods prepared according to ancient practices, collectively referred to as Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK). An Indigenous Market will feature an array of traditional arts, like beadwork, basketry, and jewelry.
One of the organizers is Monique Sonoquie (Tongva, Chumash), who has long been involved with local cultural and environmental education. She’s “a little concerned” about the kelp scarcity she’s noticed over the last two years. But she wants people to know that there are ways to take what you need from the sea without depleting it.
Sonoquie sees the Indigenous Food Festival as an opportunity to inform participants about the cultural protocols involved with providing sustainable food. “You gather as much as you need,” she explains, not as much as you can. “You make an offering and establish a relationship with the seaweed.” She hopes visitors will get a taste of what humans and nature can do when they work together, for mutual benefit.
Kelp research and recovery efforts are underway at multiple study sites in the Fort Bragg/Mendocino area, to protect and expand remnant forests. On Sunday morning, visitors to Big River can enjoy a demonstration of the high-tech drone mapping techniques that are being used to monitor the area. “We hope to see more kelp than we did last year,” says McHugh.
There will also be an open house at the Noyo Center Marine Field Station. Visitors can tour the urchin ranch, a 40-foot shipping container where overabundant yet starving purple urchins have been fed in a recirculating aquaculture system to prepare them for market. These resilient creatures are able to persist through years of starvation, but there is hope in Blue Economy circles that they can be harvested, raised to delectable plumpness, and sold commercially.
From 11:30am-12:45pm on Sunday, the Field Station will also host a presentation from Kelp Rises, a multi-institutional research program investigating both the human and natural drivers of kelp system resilience. Later that afternoon a panel discussion will dive deeper into the topic of regenerative aquaculture. A reception with kelp featured prominently among the selection of tasty hors d’oeuvres will follow.
The final event will be a wild urchin harvest by the light of the full moon, led by Nathan Maxwell Cann. Eating the urchin that are eating the kelp is “a great way to capstone the event ... a parting connection with the kelp forest,” he says.
Like the kelp ecosystem, KelpFest! is vast and complex. Iselin says that during the planning, “Every time an idea came up, someone said yes. It really was a lesson in the power of yes.”
Find a detailed schedule of events and more information at:
northcoastkelpfest.org
Photos by Underwater Pat.
Cucina Verona Mercato
A Taste of Italy in Fort Bragg
by Helene Chalfin
Escaping the heat is always a good thing to do, so when I got a few days off, I made a beeline to the Mendocino coast. While exploring historic downtown Fort Bragg to see what was going on, I came upon a sign: BAKERY! Driven by a mocha craving, I dove into a narrow walkway festooned with Italian flags.
I heard inviting Italian music as I walked past dining tables inside a beautifully lit, covered outdoor patio with a small music stage area. Turning left, I followed the signs—“Keep Going, Almost There!”—that led to the bakery’s green door.
Besides the wave of delicious aromas, I could hear lively chatter and distinctive Italian music. A woman in a colorful hat greeted me: “Buon Giorno! You found us!” she exclaimed with a smile.
Immediately, I spotted a display case containing a rainbow of gelato flavors: gold salted caramel, deep chocolate, raspberry sorbetto, and the green of the chocolate chip mint. The smell of cinnamon, rosemary and vanilla filled the air. Fresh croissants, grandiose cinnamon rolls, and sugar-dusted cannoli filled the cases. For fans of savory snacks there was pizza by the slice. Pillowy herbed focaccia sat alongside a frittata loaded with veggies and cheese.
Then a big guy (Chef Joe, I was told) turned the corner, arms full of freshly baked bread. I remembered a shop in Florence next to the Duomo where I could find all the traditional treats. This place had that feel. Outside that Mercato were some tables with umbrellas to provide shade. I would often sit there to enjoy my coffee and the view.
Now, as I peered through the front door onto Franklin Street, I saw bright green tables and red umbrellas—exactly as I remembered from Florence. No Duomo to gaze upon, but I was immersed in a truly Italian experience—all while in the center of Fort Bragg, California.
For insight into this slice of Italy on the North Coast, I turned to the lady in the hat—Kathleen Murray, owner and wife of Chef Joe. “Welcome,” she said. “This is Cucina Verona Mercato!” She explained that the patio I had just walked through is their pet-friendly outdoor dining space. “You should come back later to hear some local musicians. Our restaurant Cucina Verona, the orange building on Laurel Street that you walked past on your way here, is where we serve homemade Italian food each day of the week.”
I learned that the Mercato store on Franklin (just around the corner from the restaurant) has featured Italian-sourced food and drinks since 2018. The couple enjoys these authentic Italian artisinal ingredients and uses them generously in their recipes. The Mercato allows them to share that joy with the community.
This year, Chef Joe and Kathleen have taken the Mercato a step further, offering their own fresh-baked goods every morning. In addition to the Italian meats and cheeses, multi-flavored gelatos, and custom coffee drinks already offered at the Mercato, customers can savor fresh-baked pastries starting every morning at 8:00am.
“We were inspired by the medinas—maze-like outdoor markets in Italy,” Kathleen shared. “We created the additional side entrance to the morning bakery so people can follow signs through the side walkway patio entrance like you did. It’s a little meandering, but it adds to the sense of discovery.”
At this point, I was ready for a double espresso to wake me up (or not), from this Italian dream. I put my order in. Soon I heard the encouraging noise of fresh espresso beans being ground. While Kathleen made sure the crema on my espresso was perfect, I grabbed a basket to fill with the tastes and memories of foods I had savored in Italy.
The foods and wines at the Mercato are imported from the heart of Italy, where GMO products are more highly regulated. Kathleen shared stories of the origins of the curated specialty foods and her life with Chef Joe. It turns out Kathleen’s partner in life and business is a Renaissance man in the fine old Italian tradition. In addition to being the chef and baker, he is also a winemaker who produces his own Pinot Noir. And sometimes he joins the musicians who play at the restaurant, strumming along on his bass. Between pastries in the morning and fine dining at night, there is a plateful of passion at Mercato Bakery and Cucina Verona Ristorante in Fort Bragg.
Mercato Bakery
353 N. Franklin St., Fort Bragg
(707) 972-3698 | cucinamercato.com
Open Mon-Sat 8:00am - 6:00pm, Sun 9:00am - 5:00pm
Cucina Verona Ristorante
124 E. Laurel St., Fort Bragg
(707) 964-6844 | cucinaverona.com
Lunch Tue - Fri 11am - 3pm. Dinner nightly 5pm - 9pm. Brunch weekends 10am - 3pm.
Helen Chalfin is a local musician and songwriter. When not sharing her music, she is following her passion for native plants with a focus on education and action. Coordinator of the Caspar Gorse Eradication Project, she assists in securing grants to improve our world.
Exterior photo courtesy of Mercato Bakery. All other photos by Helene Chalfin.
Avila Valley Barn
The Perfect Spot for Your Country Fix
by Willow Douglass-Thomas
Leaving rural Anderson Valley and relocating to San Luis Obispo was a challenging transition that came with quite a bit of culture shock. After a long day of work and classes, I can’t just go home to my off-grid farm and spend time with my animals like I used to. So when I long for the comfort of home, I find myself pulling into the dirt parking lot of Avila Valley Barn, just a short ride from the heart of San Luis.
When I arrive, the first thing I do is grab one of the three-dollar enormous heads of romaine lettuce and mosey my way around the farm, feeling my stress melt away. To the sound of local live music, I stop at each outdoor pen to give a few pieces of lettuce to all the creatures. The highland cow, Georgia, is what makes me feel most at home, but I love checking in on the alpacas, emu, goats, chickens, donkeys, and more.
After evenly dividing my romaine between all of the animals so no one feels left out, my next stop is always the country gift shop and farm stand. Filled to the brim with homemade pies, fresh produce, and tasteful gifts, it is easy to get carried away. From preserves and pickles, to cookware and gardening tools, there truly is something for everyone. And that’s before you get to the food stalls out back.
The Avila Valley Barn property was purchased in 1970 by Dr. John DiVincenzo, a local orthodontist and avid apple breeder who wanted it for his apple orchard. In 1986, he built a small farm stand to sell his fruit, as well as vegetables and fruit from other local farmers. He hired Debbie Smith to manage it. The job provided housing, which Debbie and her seven children required. The doctor rightly assumed that the children would be helpful to have around.
When Debbie was first hired, there was little on the property aside from the orchard and the small farmstand. Over time, she began to play a more prominent role at the farm. She expanded the farm stand into the complex of buildings and animal pens it is today, adding animals and attractions as she went. When the doctor passed away in 2009, Debbi became the official titleholder of the property.
Throughout Debbie’s tenure, most of her seven children and their friends helped in one way or another on the farm. Some managed the farm stand while others drove tractors or operated the shops and food stands. Years of group effort and personal experience paid off. In 2019, Debbie’s twin sons, Jake and Jessie, stood up as she stepped down. Today Jake, Jessie, and Jake’s wife, Raven, are running the farm and carrying on Debbie Smith’s legacy.
Avila Valley Barn continues today, and is thriving. After I inevitably check out with more than I planned in my basket, I join the rest of the hungry guests at the Chicken Shack and SmokeHouse. Many people gravitate towards the pulled pork or tri-tip sandwiches, but I have always loved the crispy chicken sandwich that is served on a garlic-toasted bun with pickled onions and tangy coleslaw. Those who are looking for a quick bite to eat will often stop by the corn stand to get a cob and smother it in the various spreads and seasonings they have set out.
I sit on the picnic tables and watch youngsters run around with the farm dogs and chickens, while their elders listen to the music and observe. Some children ride ponies or go on a hay ride around the property, while others take part in one of the many seasonal activities. In the spring and summer, you can pick your own bouquet of flowers or seasonal produce, while in autumn and winter you can bring your family to pick out pumpkins and Christmas trees.
When I finish my meal, I walk the short distance to the Sweet Shoppe for a cone of Slo-Maid local ice cream. The sweet treat usually wraps up my time at Avila Valley Barn, and I go home with my heart full and feeling revived from my country fix. That is, until I find myself pulling into the dirt parking lot this time next week.
Avila Valley Barn
560 Avila Beach Drive, San Luis Obispo
(805) 595-2816 | avilavalleybarn.com
Willow Douglass-Thomas is a student who grew up in Anderson Valley and is now attending school in San Luis Obispo. She loves spending time with animals and incorporating bits of home into her SLO life.
Photos by Torrey Douglass