edible Marin and Wine Country Spring 2010 : Page 24

“The only gift is a portion of thyself ...the poet brings his poem; the shepherd his lamb...” —Ralph Waldo Emerson DOMESTICATED BLISS: THE GIFT OF LOCAL LAMB BY ROBIN CARPENTER hillside above Tomales Bay. “You know we’re all descended in some way from shepherds. Sheep are the oldest domesticated animal after the dog, and man’s first livestock.” She walks me over to admire the silky face of the ewe they named Guapa (handsome in Spanish) and then bends down to nuzzle several of her ewes. “There is something so vulnerable about sheep, something that touches your soul...” Marsha tears up talking about her sheep. As a particularly frisky gal she has nicknamed Death Wish trots by missing some fur around her flank, Marsha shakes her head and smiles, “at least she has stopped getting her head stuck in the fence.” M A trained molecular neurobiologist, science journalist and the granddaughter of a Basque sheep rancher, Marcia has sheep on the brain and sheep in the blood. “Sheep are completely dependent on us, we’ve bred them to be that way—our modern sheep are descended from the Mouflon.” Kneeling with Marcia among her ewes, I felt blessed my lamb journey started with such a passionate teacher. This 22 | EDIBLE MARIN & WINE COUNTRY SPRING 2010 arcia Barinaga is a new shepherd, reclaiming her Basque heritage. She walks with me into the pasture where her 35 pregnant ewes graze on a will be her second year lambing and making traditional Basque cheeses. Marcia is a neighbor in West Marin and I had come to know of her from my first taste of her lamb last summer at Osteria Stellina in Point Reyes. It was unlike any other lamb I’d ever tasted—delicate, grassy and sweet. When Stellina’s chef-owner Christian Caiazzo told me he would be preparing the offal the next night, I returned to taste the rich, creamy seared liver. Later in the summer I tasted the amazing Baserri cheese that Marcia had made from the ewes milk. A hint of grass, a soft touch of salt air off Tomales Bay and a subtle nutty note graced her first batch of cheese. Sheep domestication began almost 10,000 years ago in Iran/ Iraq and later spread to Africa and Spain. By 4,000 B.C. there were sheep in the British Isles. In 1493, on his second voyage to the New World, Columbus took sheep with him as a “walking food supply.” Twenty-six years later Cortez took some of the offspring of Columbus’ sheep on his explorations of Mexico and the western United States. They became the ancestors of the Navajo Churros, which are the oldest breed of sheep in the U.S. As wool became a valuable commodity, domesticated sheep were bred for the mutation that keeps Photos: Robin Carpenter

Domesticated Bliss: The Gift Of Local Lamb

Robin Carpenter

Marcia Barinaga is a new shepherd, reclaiming her Basque heritage. She walks with me into the pasture where her 35 pregnant ewes graze on a hillside above Tomales Bay. “You know we’re all descended in some way from shepherds. Sheep are the oldest domesticated animal after the dog, and man’s first livestock.” She walks me over to admire the silky face of the ewe they named Guapa (handsome in Spanish) and then bends down to nuzzle several of her ewes. “There is something so vulnerable about sheep, something that touches your soul...” Marsha tears up talking about her sheep. As a particularly frisky gal she has nicknamed Death Wish trots by missing some fur around her flank, Marsha shakes her head and smiles, “at least she has stopped getting her head stuck in the fence.” A trained molecular neurobiologist, science journalist and the granddaughter of a Basque sheep rancher, Marcia has sheep on the brain and sheep in the blood. “Sheep are completely dependent on us, we’ve bred them to be that way—our modern sheep are descended from the Mouflon.” Kneeling with Marcia among her ewes, I felt blessed my lamb journey started with such a passionate teacher. This will be her second year lambing and making traditional Basque cheeses. Marcia is a neighbor in West Marin and I had come to know of her from my first taste of her lamb last summer at Osteria Stellina in Point Reyes. It was unlike any other lamb I’d ever tasted—delicate, grassy and sweet. When Stellina’s chef-owner Christian Caiazzo told me he would be preparing the offal the next night, I returned to taste the rich, creamy seared liver. Later in the summer I tasted the amazing Baserri cheese that Marcia had made from the ewes milk. A hint of grass, a soft touch of salt air off Tomales Bay and a subtle nutty note graced her first batch of cheese. Sheep domestication began almost 10,000 years ago in Iran/ Iraq and later spread to Africa and Spain. By 4,000 B.C. there were sheep in the British Isles. In 1493, on his second voyage to the New World, Columbus took sheep with him as a “walking food supply.” Twenty-six years later Cortez took some of the offspring of Columbus’ sheep on his explorations of Mexico and the western United States. They became the ancestors of the Navajo Churros, which are the oldest breed of sheep in the U.S. As wool became a valuable commodity, domesticated sheep were bred for the mutation that keeps Them from shedding their wool/hair. This specific breeding didn’t happen to the sheep that remained in Africa, and thus, the sheep (the St. Croix and Barbados Black Belly breeds) that came to the Caribbean with the slaves still shed their hair. Marcia’s sheep are East Friesian Dairy Sheep which she is breeding with some Katahdin (who are from the St. Croix line and shed their hair) to see if she can get a dairy sheep that sheds wool like hair and has the hairless “rat tail” of the Katahdin so that they won’t need to dock tails or shear. Larger ranchers frequently allow their sheep to lamb in the pastures, but Marcia assists her sheep with lambing and brings the ewes inside the barn to lamb. As Marcia shares her midwifery adventures from last lambing season, we discuss how misunderstood sheep are. They aren’t dumb, they’re very social and form close friendships and even cliques within the larger group. Last year two of her ewes, Emily and Evangeline, became best friends. When Emily went into labor, Evangeline refused to leave her side. I asked Marcia about what it was like to harvest last season’s lambs. She said it was hard to let them go, but she’s comfortable with the relationship between humans and sheep. She reminded me that without us they would never survive. The milk, the wool, and the tender meat are all gifts they kindly offer us. Don Gilardi is an accidental shepherd. He’s the fourth generation of his family to work on the Marin County land he has named Redhill Farms. Like Marcia, Don is new to sheep, but never dreamed of reviving the family farming tradition. Founded in 1917, his family’s original farm was split up over time and most of the 850 acres was sold off. His mother and grandmother eventually bought 80 acres back. Don, who was a successful modular home salesman at the time, helped his parents and grandmother in his spare time with 8 years of building fences and infrastructure. He also reluctantly helped his mom with her small group of Suffolk-Dorsett sheep she kept for herself. “She always wanted some help on Sunday mornings, and they smelled intense and I’d usually been out the night before—it wasn’t my favorite chore.” During this time Don’s efforts were to help his family out, not to prepare for a new career. When the time came to put the ranch into operational mode and select livestock, Don’s mom surprised him by announcing that they were going to raise sheep and Don would be in charge. He began by making some phone calls. The first was to Anita Stauber at the University of California Cooperative Extension. Anita told Don to read the book and call her back. Don laughs and said he tried to get her to just tell him what he needed to know. “Thank God she made me do it myself.” As Don is telling me his story he exudes the energy and excitement of a six year old on Christmas morning who got everything on his list. Striding toward a group of ewes, many with newborn lambs, one of Don’s llamas starts to shadow me. His Great Pyrenees is walking sleepily with us because he’s been up most of the night standing watch near the newborns. Don explains that the llama bonds with the ewes and when one is in labor, she will keep her company and even help her clean the new lamb. Once the lamb is born, if the Pyrenees isn’t already there, the scent will draw him in and he’ll eat the afterbirth. He then stays to guard the mother and lamb. “The more I do this, the more amazed I am at how it all fits together—it’s the incredible cycle of life.” Once Don had his ranch running smoothly, his next important call was to Marin Organic to begin the process of organic certification. “They were amazing—the day they came out to walk my land and see what I was up to was the day after I had spread chicken manure everywhere. I was really worried, but they fell in love with the property and what I was doing. When I called Marin Organic to tell them my lamb was ready to harvest, Helge Hellberg (Executive Director of MO) told me to have my cell phone charged up—within an hour calls started coming in for my lamb. I’ve been selling out the past four years.” One of Don’s favorite calls was from Chef Joseph Humphrey of the Michelin star rated Murray Circle restaurant at Sausalito’s Cavallo Point, and Don is buoyed by the respect his lamb receives from the Chef. I met Don and Chef Humphrey at Murray Circle for the weekly delivery of Redhill lamb. Chef Humphrey says he is inspired by the taste and delicacy of Don’s lamb. He believes in using the whole animal and currently serves Don’s lamb as an entrée featuring four different “areas” of the lamb—from head to tail. He uses North African flavors to compliment the delicate sweet nature of this particular lamb and we tasted the current four creations. A slice of “sous-vide” prepared tongue wrapped around a little salad of endive, watercress and grilled Japanese eggplant showcased the rich tongue flavor. The next bite was a slice of brain that had been soaked in milk, dipped in tempura batter and fried—a crispy, creamy lamb cloud. A perfectly seared piece of the loin revealed the unadorned, ethereal flavor of this meat. It was beyond lamb—I wondered if Don had convinced a unicorn to mate with his ewes. Ending on a more earthly note, there was the wise use of the neck and other bits of the lamb in a perfectly spiced Merguez sausage. Don is creating a unique flavor in his lamb by going against convention and using mostly East Friesians even though they are usually bred for their great dairy production. He said he didn’t pick a “meat” breed because he believed that the lambs of heavy milk producers would grow faster and have a wonderful milk-fattened flavor. The fact the Marcia Barinaga’s East Friesian lambs are so close in flavor to Don’s really bears that out. Another factor that makes Don’s lamb unique is harvesting at 75 to 80 pounds when normal harvest weight in our area is about 130 pounds. Don discovered that he can command a better price for his premium product, but the premium market can’t be accessed by the conventional ways of selling lamb. That transition can be challenging for a larger rancher. This along with issues of predator control make for some difficult choices. Bill Jensen is an established fifth generation rancher who lives on 240 acres near Tomales. His family has raised sheep for nearly a century. During the lamb season, Bill watches over about 1,000 ewes and lambs. We discussed challenges to large ranchers. The number of sheep raised in California has dropped due to the return of predators. Small ranchers like Don and Marcia are on the rise, but the large ranches struggle. In the 1980s coyotes reappeared, after being exterminated by early settlers. The use of traps and controversial poisons by Marin county sparked protests from some citizens and the county stopped providing a predator control person for the ranchers. The county splits the cost of non-lethal measures such as electric fences, guard dogs and llamas, and reimburses ranchers for up to 3% of losses. As Bill says, “Make it easy on the coyotes and they make it hard on you.” Many larger ranchers experience up to 30% loss. The predator problem is heated with controversy, but the bottom line is that if the ranchers get a better price for their lamb it would help mitigate the loss. Bill’s sheep are raised on beautiful natural pastureland and don’t receive hormones or antibiotics. They are completely milk and pasture fed. Bill talks about taking good care of your pastures, “These grasses are also our crop and these coastal hills grow an amazing variety of native grasses that are great for our sheep.” When I ask Bill if I could purchase his lamb specifically—he said no and explained that he sells to Superior Meat Packing in Dixon—his lamb is then sold under their brand. All those natural, locally raised sheep could end up on a table in Bakersfield—or even worse they could end up going to a feedlot first. It’s a pragmatic choice for Bill, “I can’t afford to have my money on ledger at a specialty market—I need that money in my hands.” By harvest time Bill has spent a lot of energy and resources raising and protecting his lambs. He isn’t set up to sell in a niche or premium market manner. Bill isn’t our only local rancher making this choice. As soon as an individual or a company can bridge that gap for Bill, he would love to see his lamb on local tables Loren Poncia is a fourth generation rancher in Tomales. For over 100 years the Poncias have cared for the land that Stemple Creek winds through on its way to the Pacific. As a steward of his family’s land and legacy he has embraced the market demand for quality food, grown locally, with a solid story behind it. He created the “Stemple Creek Farms” brand for both their cattle and lamb. Their milk-fed lambs are raised on sweet clover and grasses and are hormone and antibiotic free. Their whole or half lambs are sold direct to consumers and they’ll match you up with others if you prefer a smaller portion. Loren believes that having visitors to the ranch and holding events are crucial ways to build the relationships and community that will create a thriving business. He says that there is more profit in operating this way, but it requires more time and makes it a challenge do the niche and premium market on a larger scale. Along with Don Gilardi, Loren Poncia seems a likely candidate for bridging the gap from conventional sales and marketing of lamb into a new, more profitable modality. Gazing out my window at the grass growing greener on our lush coastal hills, I know that shepherds are watching over their flocks and that with their good stewardship and some enthusiastic salesmanship, domesticated bliss will spread across the land.

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