A little Christmas party

What are you doing on Thursday evening? Come and join us for an apéro* at our new little butchery in Burnie.

We'll have a drink and a nibble, talk about nice things like pigs and gardening, and you can select a few goodies to put under the tree (or hide in the fridge).

Our friends from Red Cow Dairies, Blue Penguin Wines, and Pickled Sisters are coming too to share their wares. We're really looking forward to catching up with our customers and producer friends.

In the new year we're planning to open the butchery regularly on Thursday afternoons/evenings.

*a new word in my vocab that explains that wonderful time of day when you sit down with friends, share a little drink, some good food and forget about your worries.

Pig farmer visits the Colosseum and a butchery

I’m such a farm girl. We’ve spent three full days in fashionable, tourist-thick Rome, but I’m itching to get into the countryside.

We’re on a train heading north to Milano. We’re passing paddocks of bright sunflowers and tall stands of corn. I’ve seen one dairy herd of sheep, but no cattle yet – and certainly no pigs. The soil is a light brown, fawn colour and lumpy.

In Rome we stayed in an apartment in the suburb of Lazio owned by an architect. When visitors book in, she packs her bag and stays with her boyfriend – a clever income-booster. It was a good spot, not touristy, and we think we got a little taste of day-to-day life in the Italian capital.

On the first afternoon we discovered a corner shop with a big fridge of cheese and a slightly smaller shelf of charcuterie. We thought the shop was shutting - the lights were all off – but we realised later the shopkeeper was waking up from his siesta, with the help of a coffee shot. We bought prosciutto, parmigiano reggiano, bread, and wine – of course. I made the shopkeeper laugh when I tried to explain I was a pig farmer by pushing my nose up and snorting. As we left the shop, Bronwyn suggested we really should work on how to say, “I am a pig farmer” in Italian, to avoid embarrassment.

We did some sweaty sightseeing – the Colosseum, the Spanish Steps, and the Vatican. The number of tourists was phenomenal, and so was the price of gelatos from the food wagons parked conveniently outside the historic spots, but it was hot, and we had to have one.

We visited two markets: the first was the Piazza Vittorio Emmanuele. It gave us a look at the multi-cultural side of Rome, with lots of stalls selling lentils, spices, Asian vegetables, and halal meat. In a way I was a bit disappointed, because each vegetable stall seemed to have exactly the same selection of products, and I wondered who the farmers really were.

At one of the meat stalls, a keen-to-sell English-speaking stallholder told me all the beef was imported, and that 80 per cent of it came from Australia, and the rest from different parts of Europe. The meat was really cheap – the most expensive cuts were only 5 or 6 Euros a kilo. He told me Italian meat was only for the rich.

The second market we went to was Campo de Fiori. There were stalls selling fruit (juicy ripe apricots, and flat, doughnut-like peaches), pasta, and truffle-infused condiments. The highlight though, was the discovery of Antica Norcineria Viola, a butchery that has been going for four generations. The youngest generation butcher was very good looking, of course, and spoke English. He told me they make more than 20 different types of salami, and that people come from Spain to buy them. There was also pork jerky, cooked pork skin ready for pizza, mortadella, an olive and vinegar salad with pig’s head, and a roof hung full of air-dried hams. The hams were not refrigerated, and I could see the fat glistening in the 30-degree heat.

We’ve had some baggage issues – as in, our baggage still has not arrived and we’ve been here four nights. Talking to the baggage claim office has been a bit like talking to Australia’s main telecommunications company – but far worse. I like to think that we’re proving it’s possible to travel Europe with just a school bag and a sunhat. But we are a bit sick of wearing plane clothes.

More photos at flickr.

Next blog… ”If I can drive a European tractor, I can drive a bambino Fiat on the wrong side of the road. Surely.”

The birth of Harvest - and Tasmania's farmers' market history

In 2001, I recall a close friend of Eliza and I being excited about the start of Tasmania’s first modern-era farmers’ market - in Burnie, on the north-west coast. An organic enthusiast, he anticipated farmers’ markets could solve many of the problems facing farming in Tasmania. They would be a way for farmers who were doing something against the norm to engage with the public, and the conscious shopper could source local food. Tasmania, with its abundant produce, would be a farmers’ market winner.

Our friend teamed up with a few other passionate locavores to present a case to the Burnie Show Society. The society was a logical place to start: it had an existing committee, a suitable venue, and the market proceeds could assist to keep the society running. The society accepted the proposal and the farmers’ market was born. It quickly became a success, with roughly 1,000 people wandering through the gates with their shopping bags every fortnight. The stallholder fees provided a much-needed injection of funds for the show society. The show societies of Wynyard, Devonport, and Launceston soon launched their own farmers’ markets, after seeing the success of Burnie.

A small and scattered population made it challenging for all the markets to be a raging success. Initially, the rules were that stallholders had to produce everything they sold. Unfortunately, the reality was that northern Tasmania was a producer of commodities, and few farmers grew niche products or were interested in taking what they grew to market. For generations their job was to farm and let the processing companies sell what they delivered to them. Due to a shortage of farmers wanting to go to the markets, the committees began to allow producers to sell wholesalers’ products to ensure there was enough range for the customers.

The committees were also worried about the lack of produce farmers could grow in the Tasmanian winter, and as a result introduced the 80/20 rule, where stallholders could source 20 per cent of their items from other producers. Many people saw this as the decline of the markets, as the rule was hard to police and easily abused. All of a sudden supposedly local produce, like sweet potatoes and oranges, started appearing at coastal markets alongside cheap wholesale vegetables. Tourists travelling in the region would have left disappointed with the quality of some of the produce on offer, a situation that wouldn’t have helped grow the quality Tasmanian brand.

In hindsight, the cash-strapped show societies were perhaps not the best groups to run the markets, as they were more interested in collecting funds to repair their showgrounds, than care about running a true farmers’ market and ensuring it reflected the best produce of the region. Ten years on, Burnie is still going strong, the Wynyard and Devonport markets remain, but the original Launceston farmers’ market has folded.

In February this year a new farmers’ market was born in Launceston called Harvest. In contrast to the other farmers’ markets in the north, it was started by a couple of passionate foodies who, on moving to the region, couldn’t believe it was lacking a high quality farmers’ market. They had done their homework (a survey showed a high level of demand from the public), they had reviewed successful market structures and governance, and had lobbied the local council for a suitable venue.  Importantly, they had a long list of producers who were crying out for a suitable farmers’ market. They also had confidence that a genuine farmers ’ markets could be successful – in the south, the highly popular Farm Gate market had been running in Hobart for the past couple of years.

Harvest was launched on Festivale weekend by delicious magazine’s Vali Little and to date, has been a resounding success. Shoppers in Launceston can now access some of the best produce of the north. They have an opportunity to meet the farmers and form a greater connection with their food. Travelling tourists also get the chance to try a whole range of Tasmania’s finest produce in the one spot.

Harvest has been great for the stallholders too: instead of taking home a vehicle of produce, many are selling out and leaving the market with a smile on their face. The confidence of a reliable market has seen existing businesses expand and new businesses created. 

An unexpected benefit has been the chance for producers to get to know other each other and share information and skills. Collaboration among producers is an important step as the food culture in northern Tasmania develops, as food trails begin to emerge, and as the region begins to back its reputation as a food destination.

View our farmers' market schedule here.

Two years of hard work and satisfaction

It’s our farm birthday this week – two years at Mount Gnomon Farm!

It’s been a busy and rewarding year and a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Over the past 12 months we added two more rare breeds of cattle to the farm, a rare breed of duck, a couple of rare breeds of chooks and we reintroduced a rare breed of sheep to Tasmania. It was also a year that saw us double our number of Wessex Saddleback pigs, encouraging us to find new markets. Last Christmas we somehow managed to survive the distribution of 200 hams and while it was stressful, it was a great thrill for us to see families enjoying something that we produced, on one of the biggest days of the year.

One of the highlights was being invited to Sydney by chef Alex Herbert who manages and operates the award-winning restaurant Bird Cow Fish. Alex is a big supporter of ethical food and was keen to hear our story and help us establish connections with other restaurants in Sydney. Alex gave us room in her fridge for our samples while we travelled back and forth from appointments with places like Tetsuya’s, Four in Hand, District Dining, Marque Restaurant and Quay. The response to our product was fantastic, but the realities of actually supplying some of these restaurants on a regular basis hit home. A place like Quay, where head chef Peter Gilmore has a signature pork belly dish, goes through 30 pork bellies a week. That’s about 15 pigs’ worth, or 90kg. In Tasmania the restaurants we supply use only a couple of week. There’s a lot to be said about population and running a booming restaurant business.

In November we had enough spare produce to have a stall at the local farmers’ markets in Burnie, Devonport and Evandale. Despite the early starts (a challenge for me, not so much for Eliza who’s used to it), we’ve really enjoyed the markets, as we get to talk to our customers and raise awareness about farming free range and the plight of rare breeds of livestock.

While it’s all been pretty exciting, farming has a way of quickly bringing you back to reality. The same day our first box of pork arrived at Tetsuya’s restaurant, one of our sows lost 9 out of her 10 piglets overnight. We went to bed after Marybelle had given birth to 10 healthy piglets who’d all had a good feed and looked content. But we woke to the horror of finding all but one of the piglets had lost so much weight in a few hours that despite our best efforts to feed them with a dripper we couldn’t save them. Piglets are so small and fragile and need to be fed every couple of hours to survive. In this case their mother had developed mastitis and stopped producing milk, and before we could treat her it was too late.

While the loss of piglets is an emotional blow for both the mother and us, it also hurts our small business financially and six months later puts a dent in our ability to supply our regular customers. Marybelle has made it up, fortunately, and is currently rearing a bouncy litter of 12.

At Mount Gnomon we’ve begun to realise that in farming some things are beyond your control. Just recently we lost our second sow to a snake bite. When we choose to run our pigs free range next to the bush we have to accept that sometimes snakes will come in contact with our pigs. As nature-lovers we respect that snakes are native to the environment and it would be wrong to harm them or remove them. And since they’re territorial the removal of one snake will only see another snake take its place.

The biggest change this year came when I resigned from my job with the Tasmanian Institute of Agricultural Research to take on the role of managing our growing menagerie and developing the business. After nearly two years of working full time while establishing the farm, it was a big leap of faith. If you buy a farm and have a big mortgage, you really have no choice but to work off-farm as you purchase the necessary infrastructure to get the business going. First we bought the animals, then the water infrastructure, pig housing, fencing, a four-wheel motorbike for feeding, a ute for taking the pigs to market … the list goes on. A farm is certainly a great way of spending money. Our accountant mentioned to us that at some stage we’ll have to stop spending and start making some money (Eliza’s mother agrees).

Giving up the luxury of regular payslips was a big step, and when I rang my grandmothers to discuss the move, they thought I was a bit crazy: “You’re giving up a good job to become a pig farmer?”. Both my grandmothers have spent most of their lives on farms and are aware of the struggles facing Tasmanian farmers today. While we might have a reduced cash flow, we’ve now got the time to expand our business, do our own packaging, shuffle the dreaded paperwork, and show more people around the farm. Hardly a week goes by when we don’t have a group descending on the property for a sticky-beak. The biggest highlight for me this year was having more than 35 people accepting our blog invitation to plant native trees to create shelterbelts on the farm. People travelled from all over the state to work alongside each other, and as a result of their community spirit 600 trees were planted in just a few hours.

Thank you for your continuing support of our adventure.