The Farm & Where I'm Going

I'm back from the farm just in time to start packing. Leaving SF for the second time, I am off to a quieter, sunnier, greener location. Across the bay. Closer to Berkeley Bowl, The Cheeseboard, Poulet, Vik's Chaat House, Sketch, Tail of the Yak, Black Oak Books and a BART station free of heroin addicts.

{Don't worry, mr. old school shuna at Eggbeater will never wear Birkenstocks!}

The farm was lovely. Long long walks with the dogs, watching winter slowly edged out with mischievous signs of spring, listening to four legged, bushy tailed, upstairs neighbors rustling on the tin roof, catching up with silence and reading. This is a place I have been visiting since I worked at Bouchon 8 years ago. Patrick came to the back door with the best cherries I have ever tasted. A few weeks later I took a garde manger intern to pick some basil and I fell into an Alice in Wonderland warren, tumbling past the flamingo croquet game landing at the "drink me" potion. I've been loopy with love ever since.

Identifying as a fruit-inspired pastry chef means that I want to know about every aspect of fruit growing. The history, the agricultural heroines and hero's, which ecosystems produce what best and why, weather and dirt. Being a photographer means that I know I cannot "capture" a subject unless I photograph it over and over. The works which moves me by the artists I admire live(d) with their subjects. Being a professional cook means that I have to absolutely understand one must posses unbelievable stamina and patience for "doing the same thing over and over." One has to taste and feel and smell and cut and saute and braise and juice the same ingredient season after season to even begin to understand it.

Like traveling, the farm is an education incomparable to book/in-school learning. We touch, we watch as blossom transforms to fruit, we hear the bees come, we listen to their absence as rain falls, we "thin" peach trees and also see how the fruit is different when we don't, we painstakingly peel a green walnut and create nocino from its young essence, we watch the delicate silver English graft fight with the coarse Black Walnut bark, we taste figs from each of the three pregnancies and we eat the almonds green because we can't wait-- they taste so innocent and tender!

The farm strengthens me. It's where I go to breathe and look far into the horizon. I love watching the landscape change almost inperceptibly. I love watching the dogs follow a scent and chase rabbits and eat groundhogs. They show me which way to go and sometimes I bring them to new fields alive with coyote tracks.

The first time I moved to California in 1988 I marveled that I could see the sky. I sat in Dolores Park and watched the clouds roll over my languid body.

What the city gives people, the excitement of the new, the scintillating drama of human life, the loud city sounds, the far becoming close, the whirring humming trembling zinging; I leave to make room for those who thrive on its essence. I grew up in New York City. On the streets. Really it's only one skill among many others.

Just in time for the season Persephone and I created, I am finding my way out of this thick cocoon, creating myself anew.

Comments

[Dad and Ellen]

Such a lovely evocation of a beautiful place--takes us back to our visit to the farm in 2000, just this time of year. So good to have the farm as a soul-nourisher!! The sky picture is magnificent!!

[Dr. Biggles]

Yeah, what you said. My wife and my oldest son can live solely in the big city without even a care for anything greener.
I think I'd do just fine without the concrete & congestion. I enjoy the bugs, worms & trees.

Biggles

[Ivonne]

All the best, Shuna!

Thanks for sharing the lovely farm photos!

[Jennifer]

What a wonderful adventure! And now you're off on another. Here's to re-creation and newness...

[Mother Teresa]

I see you graduated from manner school. Thank you for the report sans expletives. You ARE a gentleman after all!