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Raw Honey is the Bee's Knees Around Here.

written by

Michelle Sroka

posted on

June 14, 2022

Is raw honey one of your kitchen staples?

You may think of honey as just another sweetener - something to drizzle on baked goods or scoop in your tea when you're feeling ill.

But raw honey is actually a powerhouse food. Anti-bacterial, anti-viral, anti-inflammatory, and full of beneficial enzymes, honey has the capacity to heal, provide important nutrition, and sweeten your food.

Raw, unfiltered honey also contains both bee pollen and propolis. If you suffer from seasonal allergies, like Joe does, you might be thinking: "Wait, why would I want to eat pollen?"

If you're eating honey that comes from a local beekeeper, consuming regional pollen may help alleviate symptoms of seasonal allergies. LIkewise, consuming propolis, the sticky greenish-brown coating that bees use to build their hives, fights bacteria and helps heal wounds in our body.

With these benefits, it makes sense to incorporate honey into your kitchen. But how do you do it beyond the occasional drizzle?

One major way to incorporate honey is to substitute it for sugar. Substituting honey also has the added benefit of using less sweetener, as honey is actually 2-3x sweeter than sugar. Try this list of tips for substituting honey in other recipes - or our yogurt honey olive oil cake.

Honey also serves as an excellent flavor enhancer while you're cooking. A little bit goes a long way! Try using it as a glaze on meat, like in the Honey Garlic Chicken recipe.

Finally, honey makes an excellent addition to a healthy dessert. Use some homemade ricotta to whip up the whipped ricotta and honey.

Want to know more about our honey - and how our beekeeper raises his bees? You can find my interview with our beekeeper, Dustin, here.

honey

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Can we care about animals - and still raise them for food?

I probably spend the most time with the pigs on our farm. Part of this is practical: since pigs can’t sweat, we spray them down twice a day to help them wallow in the mud and stay cool.  But part of it is emotional, too. I enjoy being around the pigs. When there’s a lot on my mind, or I’ve spent too much time on the computer and need to get outside, wandering over to that week’s pig paddock is one of the ways I can clear my mind.  Pigs are highly emotive and responsive. When I spray them down with the hose, they like to sit back on their haunches, prick back their ears, and snap playfully at the water as it showers down on them. And then joyfully roll around in the mud afterward, of course.  But they’re responsive to humans in general, too. They are naturally curious and, in the case of our heritage breed Red Wattles, gentle. They’ll come up and sniff you, rub their mud-streaked bellies over you, and let you scratch their ears.  And maybe this is the part where you start to wonder: But aren’t you raising them for food?  Why would you want an emotional connection to an animal that you are raising for food?  I understand where this question is coming from. I was a vegetarian for nearly a decade because I didn’t like the thought of killing animals, especially within the framework of our industrial food system.  But actually, it isn’t a problem or moral quandary for me. Yes, we grow fond of and attached to our animals, including our pigs.  Yes, we still send them to the butcher or process them on our farm for food. And yes, this still makes sense to me.  I would gently suggest that the idea that we shouldn’t have any emotional connection to our food - that we can only eat meat that comes from animals we withhold our emotions or affection from - is a sign of our disconnection to the way food is grown.  That is, after all, one of the premises of industrial agriculture. Designate animals with one sole purpose - “becoming food” - and then shut them away in buildings, cramped quarters, or far away from humans who might interact with them beyond the farmer.  And the farmer, too, should be as disconnected as possible. After all, this is an efficient machine.  The problem, from a regenerative perspective, is that growing food is never just about growing food. Food is the gift you receive at the end of your work, but it’s the work itself - and the consequences of the work beyond the food - that is the point.  The work, on our farm, is caring for the land. That means working alongside animals to nurture native plants, clear forest areas to make existing trees healthier, and create habitats for birds, pollinators, and wildlife.  And that means becoming attentive and thoughtful - to animals and to the land. Watching, learning, and yes, developing bonds with the habitats you’re nurturing and the animals that are helping you do so.  Is it sad to load up animals and take them to the butcher at the end of the season? Yes, it often can be. But I don’t feel guilty about it. I know that we’ve given them the best life possible, and that we’ve partnered with them to leave our farm better than we found it each year.  And if that doesn’t make sense, that’s okay. I’m not saying that everyone has to agree with me. I’d simply like to advocate for a way of farming and consuming meat that includes this experience - one of affection and bonding between animals and humans.  After all, this is one of the many ways we try to do things differently on our farm. We don’t want to just provide you with food that meets your standards - non-GMO, no vaccines, no antibiotics, grass-fed and pasture-raised.  We also want to help you reconnect with that food. And part of that is knowing the animals, hearing stories about them, and yes, maybe even having an emotional connection with them, despite the end goal of providing meat to you.