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Why do you cook at home? Here's why we choose farm fresh food.

written by

Michelle Sroka

posted on

March 27, 2024

Is there a dish you’ve always dreamed of making? 

In the last few years, I’ve really wanted to learn to make corned beef. I knew that I could do it - if I started with enough time before St. Patrick’s Day, that is. But I’ve always seemed to remember too late - just a few days before the holiday.  

This year, I took matters into my own hands. I signed up for a church potluck on St. Patrick’s Day - forcing myself to not only learn how to make corned beef (and plan ahead!), but to make it taste good as well.  

It turns out, it was pretty easy - and delicious. But more important was the feeling of accomplishment that I had. I overcame a moment of feeling like “I can’t do that”. Not only could I make it, but I could also make a healthy, non-processed version without synthetic additives or preservatives.  

I’ve had several of those moments throughout the years. When we first started farming, I tried roasting a whole chicken. It was…not quite successful at first, but I eventually got there, with the help of a good meat thermometer. (Joe likes to joke “Is it still clucking?” in memory of those first few attempts.)  

After I mastered that, it was onto pork chops. And once I knew how to cook them, I could put a truly delicious, nutritious, and quick meal on the table reliably for our family. Pork chops are still one of our go-to meals.  

No matter what you make, I’m sure there’s been a time where you’ve had to overcome an “I can’t do that” mentality, and learned to make something new.  

I think it’s worth reflecting on, because many people would question why we should overcome that mentality at all. Why not get a ready-made rotisserie chicken? Why not buy the beef already corned? Why invest in the time, mistakes, and frustrations that learning new skills will bring?  

Of course, there will be times that most of us - including me! - do choose those options of convenience. But most of the time, I choose the sacrifice involved with sourcing food locally, and making it at home. And it is a sacrifice, because it means committing my time and money to that instead of something else.  

I wonder what skills you’ve achieved in the kitchen. But I also wonder how learning those skills has created further transformation, or how they’ve changed your relationships. How does knowing how to make more deepen your relationship with your farmer, the land around you, and your community?  

I know that for me, learning to cook meant valuing food. And once I valued food, it opened the door to ask questions about how that food was grown, who was growing it, and ultimately how those practices affected the health of my family.  

So I choose to learn more, and to sacrifice in order to spend time in the kitchen.   

That’s my story, but it won’t necessarily be yours. So I’m curious: What do you know how to make now that you didn't know then? And why does it matter to you?

Getting Started

Want to master some simple recipes that will make you feel accomplished? Here are three to get you started. 

Whole Roast Chicken Au Jus - a simple, no fuss recipe to help you master the art of cooking a whole chicken, AND making a delicious and simple sauce.

Pork Chops with Carrot Top Chimichurri - learn how to make pork chops perfectly, and top them with this seasonal spring sauce.

Corned Beef - make this classic beef recipe without any synthetic nitrates. You'll need a week to prep and brine the beef, so plan accordingly. 

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More from the blog

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.