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PHONE: 619.662.1780
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For scheduled farm tours, our Kiki Town address is:
1856 Saturn Boulevard, San Diego CA 92154
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Did you know Suzie’s Farm delivers in San Diego five days a week? Not only that, several acres of our farm in San Diego’s Border State Park is dedicated to custom growing for the specific needs (and imagination) of our local chefs. Can you say boutique and convenience all in one breath? You don’t have to. Just say Suzie’s Farm. Visit our Chef's Page to view our delivery schedule and learn more about our partnership with restaurants.
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Pumpkins on SDNN article by Lauren Duffy.
Check it out, yo! People is spreading the Suzie’s Farm Gospel! Amen!
There is something about the energy of a strong windy day. It throws everything into a ruckus, disturbing our otherwise perfect 72 degree, partly sunny days. Our entire spirit is blown about, and any plans we had are battered, whipped and gusted away, leaving us running helplessly behind them, frantically trying to retrieve their scattered remains.
As someone who easily locks into a routine, who is soothed by steadiness, windy days are good for keeping me flexible. I like the way they stir things up in me; make me feel things I had forgotten or hid away. They make me feel daring and exposed. And vulnerable. And capricious.
I was deeply dreaming that I was pregnant with another child this morning, when Robin woke me to tell me he was leaving for work. He called for me several times, but I would not tear myself away from the dream I hoped I could wish into reality. It was 7am already. Do you know where your children are?
Inez typically wakes before 7am. Sometimes even before 6am. She lustily drinks her morning milk, and needs a few story books before wanting to change into her clothes and begin her day.
Sylvie is a slumber bear, like her momma. She likes to sleep and sleep. Even with the doors open, the lights on, and the curtains drawn; even with you gently nudging and singing her awake, she will hunker deeper into her warm blanket cave. She does not like to be woken, and will often cry and whine for up to an hour if you get her up before she’s ready.
The house felt cold this morning, and I could sense the wind before I could feel it blustering through the open windows. I hurried to get ready, wanting to take an 830 exercise class before heading to the farm. At 730, the girls were still asleep. I had managed to pack their lunches, select their clothes and eat breakfast before going into their bedroom to wake them.
I dressed them in their cribs, handed them a quesadilla and deposited them directly into their car seats. Inez did not turn into a pumpkin without her morning soy milk. Sylvie did not have time to realize I had woken her.
I made the class, the wind battering the van as I drove across the Coronado Bridge, but I forgot that I had rescheduled a 10am appointment from yesterday’s overscheduled day. I was late for that.
While I was training our new Farmer’s Marketeer, I was simultaneously supervising a trainer who was training a new office person. Then I received a call - Could I do a tour for a personal chef at 12? How about 1230? I was meant to head an employee meeting at noon. The tour took longer than I expected as we jogged from greenhouse to greenhouse, seeking protection from the gusting winds and the dirt twisters spiraling through the parking lot and the field.
Also, you need to call this chef for an order. And did you fax this chef our availability list? I need you to confirm our cash deposit. And would you print out this poster to distribute at our Farmer’s Markets?
As I re-entered the warehouse, an employee needed to speak with me desperately, about something another employee said to them. Which in turn, led me to have to speak with the other employee, who then told me that it was something that a-NOTHER employee had misunderstood. Which led me back to the first employee for clarification.
Robin needed me to go to Kiki Town to speak with Don Julio about the planting of the strawberries, and the size of the radishes and kale. Could I check the peppers? Could I check the romaine?
I stood at Kiki Town, trying to seem professional and poised while speaking to Don Julio, grit in my eyes and teeth, clamping my hat down on my head, as the wind tried to launch us to the heavens. The tractor plowed silently in the distance, elevating earth into the air.
It was 3:30 and I hadn’t accomplished a thing. It was time to pick up the girls.
What about LUNCH?!
Suzie’s Farm rocked the Hillcrest Market this past Sunday. Check out our schedule of Farmers’ Markets to see where you can catch us during the week.
I went to an industry event last week. Well, kind of an industry event. It was at a restaurant, there was wine tasting and food. There was a cook-off and celebrity chefs.
One of the celebrity chefs participated in the cook-off. He talked at length about how much he supports local farmer’s and how everything he was using in her dish was either local, organic or grown sustainably. He extolled the importance of supporting the small farmer, how we should shop locally, how sustainability is the future of food. He works for a major wholesaler in town, representing the farmer to restaurants who are into the whole “farm-to-fork” thing.
I thought - this is perfect! He sounds like exactly the kind of person we want to work with! Amazing! He’s got position power and prestige! I’ve got to meet him!
When I introduced myself to him, he took my card, made mewing sounds, and said that although he represented the wholesaler and thought that what we were doing was amazing, they were looking for more unique items than green beans and lettuce. He wished us luck! He called me Suzie.
I was introduced to another celebrity chef. she’s going to open her restaurant soon - hopefully next year. She’s aiming for a twist on Americana. Old favorites ramped up. As I listened to her describe her approach to cooking - the care she gives each dish, working with local farmers and suppliers, the creativity of cooking and the exhaustion of opening a new restaurant, my heart surged and I thought, “This could be wonderful collaboration!” When, I gave her my card, told her about our farm and how we can custom grow for her new restaurant and direct deliver, she nodded, and, not making eye contact, said she’d consider taking a tour of the farm. She pocketed my card as she strode away, waving, to greet someone else.
I met someone who “knows people”. He’s a former restaurant owner and restaurant manager. He collects people to see what they can do for him, how they can advance him. He collects them so he can say, “I know so-and-so. I bought them a drink”. When he realized that I wouldn’t be advancing his agenda, wasn’t worth collecting, his eyes slid past me, to the next better thing, saying, “I’m sure there are a lot of people here who will be interested in talking with you.” The subtext was, “I’m not one of them.”
I had a few more encounters like that. People, who in public, waxed grand about local flavorful food and how the collaboration between food growers and food creators was drivng the industry. But when I spoke with them privately, they asked if I delivered with the big wholesaler, or simply wished me well.
Perhaps that’s enough. To be wished well for your hard work and your dream. Certainly none of them are under any obligation to me or to anyone else except their investors and their bottom line. But in general I walked away from the evening confused, with my eyes opened in a way I hadn’t expected.
We all do this, don’t we? It’s double talk. We talk about how healthfully we eat, but when the sales guy brings donuts to the office, we polish off two. We brag about how we wake up early to work out, but once at the gym we cruise on the treadmill at 2mph, no where near breaking a sweat. We judge judgemental people! We judge other people too.
Perhaps the problem is the people I was dealing with. I’m sure these chefs are constantly bombarded with events, offers, with people wanting something from them. We’ve elevated them to celebrity status, when in reality, though they might like the title, it can be a burden to bear. We take their words as gospel, and then are crushed when the curtain is pulled back.
Perspective, perspective. Like the corn worms, and the breeze. It’s all part of this path we are on. Robin and I can only keep doing what we are doing. Selecting seed, nurturing our plants, checking drip lines and hoping for sun. Harvesting the very best, and leaving the rest.
This Sunday only, Suzie’s Farm will be filling in at the Hillcrest Farmer’s Market!
The Hillcrest Farmer’s Market runs Sunday from 9-2 and is located at the DMV Parking lot on Normal Street.
We will be bringing our A-Game, plus a bunch of certified organic produce. Hope to see you there!
Growing this food for you is no mean task. We care deeply about our work. I’ve gone so far as to say it is A Calling. It has to be, this act of growing sustenance for other people.
Think about how profound it is. You are selecting something to put in your body, to fuel it, to heal it, to sustain it and your life. It is no small thing. We take it for granted because it’s something we do every day, at least three times a day (plus two snacks if you believe the nutritionists). We minimize the act and really we should elevate it. We should respect ourselves enough to not eat in the car. We should love ourselves enough to sit down and eat our meal.
Whether surrounded by laughter or silence.
It’s the act of keeping yourself alive to appreciate your life. To be able to give unto others. To be conscious and conscientious.
It’s the act of sharing yourself, your values and your beliefs, when you share a meal.
It’s the act of pleasure, when you savor something delicious that you cooked with your own hands.
It’s an act of love.
Robin is a dangerous man with a seed catalogue. It’s like drunk dialing, but with a credit card, a dream and 40 acres to fill.
He’s buying things left and right. He doesn’t even know what he’s buying!
The boxes come and he can’t remember what or when he ordered.
He’ll often open the box and say, “What’s this?”
Honey, if you don’t know what it is…
He just showed me a bag of seed and compared the bag of seed to the picture in the catalogue.
I asked him, “What’s that?”
He said, “I don’t know.” Then proceeded to read the description from the catalogue.
I still don’t get what it is. Neither does he.
It’s called Happy Rich, not that that tells us anything. Looks like a combination of an Asian green and broccoli, but I’m not sure.
He also just purchased a book, “Farming for Profit, not for Production”.
It’s supposed to show us how to grow the things that will actually make us money, not just the things we think are cool looking.
I strongly suspect Happy Rich is not one of the “Farming for Profit” things.
I know I already talked about local, but I want to talk about it again.
Robin recently went to a round table meeting. It was hosted by Tierra Miguel Foundation, and included wholesale buyers, farmers, restauranteurs, chefs and other food industry related people.
One of the things they hashed out was the definition of local. So many people are using it now - growers, shippers, chefs, grocery stores, farmer’s markets, but what does it mean. What does it really mean?
The third definition of local from the Random House Webster’s dictionary is: pertaining to a city, town, or small district rather than an entire state or country.
Some retailers, like Wal-Mart, consider it local if it’s grown in the same state. Even if that state is California or Texas. Whole Foods considers local a 7 hour drive or 200 miles away from the store to which the product is delivered.
A seven hour drive? That doesn’t feel like local to me. I’ve driven seven hours before and it’s a ways away. It’s not a trucker’s haul, but then, those truckers aren’t hauling 2 two-year-olds to their hometown in Mexico.
A major wholesaler here in San Diego, touts it’s Farm Fresh Program. They help chefs out by going to the Farmer’s Market for them and selecting the most amazing products out there. I love this concept! I think it’s perfect for the farm-to-table vision we all have of for our restaurants. I am thrilled that farmers who are carefully growing quality food are getting respect and admiration from chefs eager to use their product. I applaud the wholesaler for going direct to the farmer, and seeing her wares laid bare on the table, like her soul. My problem with this program? The wholesaler goes to the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market to buy the produce.
SANTA MONICA??!!!
How is that local? That’s 133 miles from downtown San Diego - one way!
And why would the wholesaler send it’s sales team 2.5 hours away to purchase food from farms that sell their produce at San Diego County Farmer’s Markets?!
I’m not naive. I know how the food industry works. I’ve worked in restaurants both in the front and back of the house. I’ve been an organic and food safety inspector. I’ve helped run Robin’s family business off and on for 14 years. There is a bottom line. As a chef said to me the other day, while telling me he was super excited to work with us because he wanted to bring local food into his restaurant, “If it doesn’t make dollars, it doesn’t make sense/cents.”
Gag me with a pitchfork.
I just wish we could have it both ways.
Why can’t the work the farmer does, be valued both philosophically and monetarily? Why can’t each locality truly support it’s local farmer? Take ownership and pride in knowing it’s local farmer?
Why are San Diego restaurants buying spring mix from farms in Oxnard? Or Paso Robles? I don’t begrudge the Paso Robles farmer his living. I want him to succeed too. But, I’m sorry, maybe I’m hallucinating, but a 5.5 hour drive away from San Diego is NOT local - especially if you have to drive through LA. Not only that but I promise you, there are farmer’s here in sweet San Diego county that are growing amazing spring mix. Spring mix that would make you cry. And I’m not even talking about us!
Although we do grow a lovely spring mix, melt-in-your-mouth tender spring mix. But that’s for a different entry.
We ranked one of the Eight Great Hot Spots at the Little Italy Mercato!
Well, we know a good thing when we are it, but it’s nice to get a little validation!
Check out the article here SDNN.com
Last week was the first day of the Silver Strand/Imperial Beach Farmer’s Market. It was a wondeful turn-out! We are so proud of our little community.
Our farm is south of Imperial Beach. We are actual side-by-side neighbors! So many people were thrilled that IB finally had it’s own market. There were over 40 vendors there selling everything from certified organic fruits and veggies, to prepared food, to arts and crafts. I can tell already by the types of people who attended and by their enthusiasm, that this market will be a great success!
The market runs Fridays from 2-6 and is located at the the Silver Strand Shopping Center at the intersections of Rainbow, Hwy 75 and Palm Avenue.
Hope to see you there!
At the pumpkin picking party I gave lots of tours. Some fairly intense, as we went row by row and talked about each item, when it was planted, how it was growing, successes and failures. Some fairly laid-back, “Yeah, that’s corn over there.” As I described our practices over and over, I realized all of our food is hand made.
Most factory farms plant one crop all year long. Maybe two crops. They have gigantic tractors that do all the work - disc the soil, make the beds, lay the compost and plastic mulching and the drip lines, seed or transplant, weed, spray for pests or fungus problems, (depending on your product) harvest, repeat.
Certainly there is someone operating the tractor. Someone has to buy the seeds and mulching and, in some cases, the transplants. Someone’s got to organize it all. There might be a couple of guys laying on the back of the tractor, slipping the transplants into the machine. But for the most part, the work is done by machine. This is 2009 after all. And that is how you make your money - eliminate the people. Labor costs are sky high, not to mention worker’s comp insurance. The more people you have working for you, the higher your expenses. Labor is our largest expense.
Our farm is not a factory farm - in case you couldn’t tell. We grow over 100 different varieties of fruits and vegetables, not including our fruit trees. We sub-contract with someone to make our rows, spread our compost, and lay the plastic mulch. Otherwise, Ellie, Don Julio, Don Miguel, Maggie, Elizabeth, Esmeralda and Adelaida do it all by hand.
Of course being a small production farm means that everyone does a little bit of everything. Ellie makes all of our plugs and direct seeds. Don Miguel is mostly in charge of irrigation. And the rest of the crew? Pick something. Hand harvesting? Yeah, they do it. Transplanting? For sure.
10 Acres need weeding? We do it by hand.
Going to plant 22 rows of lettuce, carrots, radish, kale, chard, beets, cilantro, dill, fennel, parsley and rutabegas? We do it by hand.
Spray for harlequin bugs in the cabbage, cauliflower and broccoli? We do it by hand.
Folks were asking about the corn. They could see all of those tall giants swaying in the breeze and wondered why we hadn’t harvested the corn. Why hadn’t our spray program worked?
It’s because we did it by hand!
Most dedicated corn farms have gigantic sprayers that aim the bug juice down onto the stalk. By spraying from above, the bug juice travels down into each ear of corn, killing the eggs before they have a chance to hatch.
Don Julio, you gotta love him, will never be able to reach to the top of the corn stalks to spray those worms. He’s the tallest worker we have, and it’s not going to happen.
There is a lot of care invested when the contact is so close. Don’t we put a premium on hand made items? A hand made quilt or a pair of hand made shoes hold greater worth than machine made.
Well here it is, hand made food. Just for you.
One of our CSA members posted about his pumpkin picking experience. He’s got a little video too. Here is your chance to see the farm!
The pumpking picking party was a wild success!
I couldn’t believe how many people came out to join us!
Many shareholders and many friends - but even some people I didn’t know who had heard about it from a friend of a friend! They bought pumpkins, they got tours, they ran through the fields. I can’t wait for next year.
Some of the children asked me if there was anyplace they could run around. I looked around at our 40 acres where only 10 have been planted and said, “yes?” These were the same kids who asked where the hay rides were. Where the ponies were. Where the jumpy castle was. I explained that this was a real working farm. Not on of those pumpkin farms.
They looked at me like I was crazy.
Sylvie and Inez were both wearing their Suzie’s Farm shirts, some kickaround pants and sneakers. This is a farm after all and I know how dirty it can get. They LOVE their Suzie’s Farm shirts. Often they will want to wear them to bed after having worn them all day. Friends have started to buy Suzie’s Farm shirts, or have received them as birthday gifts, and when Sylvie and Inez see them wearing their Suzie’s Farm shirts, they point to them, run at them, and yell “Suzie! Suzie!”. They can point Suzie out on the shirt and the logo (that’s Suzie under the tree, in case you are wondering). They’ve never met Suzie, but they know her.
As soon a we got Sylvie out of the car, she proceeded to lie face down in the dirt and began to make dirt angels. She scooped handfuls of dirt all over herself. She rolled around like a pig. Sylvie sang one of her Sylvie songs. Sylvie was grooving on the farm.
Inez went straight for the refreshments. Inez’s joy meter shot through the roof when she heard the Champurrado was a milk product. The Mexican Pasteries were still hot, I handed her media concha de chocolate. Half for her and half for Sylvie. I’ve never seen them so quiet and serious, sitting on the hay bales, eating their pan dulce. She ate that pan dulce like it was homework. After Inez took down her half, she asked for “mas?” so I gave her another half, which she finished. And then another whole one - the pan dulce bigger than her face. And then she found the juice boxes. Oh Lord, milk and juice boxes. Inez’s crack.
Carbs and hydration. Inez may have a future as a marathon runner.
At this point I look for Sylvie and she has removed one shoe and one sock - from the same foot. She is now running around the farm, with her half of the pan dulce still clutched in her hand. It’s more chocolately looking than when I first gave it to her. I don’t suspect it’s chocolate.
Did I mention Robin had to go back to Suzie’s Farm to put together an order for Chef Christian Graves at JSix? This action was not approved by Sylvie and Inez Taylor.
Their faces are smeared with dirt, tears and pan dulce. Champurrado, juice and melted ice cubes have dribbled onto their shirts. All foot gear is discarded. Inez is “helping” carry pumpkins. Inez is also climbing onto the hay bales and jumping off. Inez seems to be drinking a beer. Perhaps she is just helping carry someone’s beer. I’m not sure.
Sylvie, by all accounts, is still rolling in the dirt.
I’m not really watching my kids - I’ll be honest (ya think?). The farm is fenced. They tend to be pretty attached to us. They aren’t bolters or wanderers by nature. I’m pretty sure they are around, but I’m so busy picking pumpkins and making sales and talking about the farm, I can’t be sure. Luckily our office manager, Ana is there. I’m hoping she’s got an eye on them. My parents arrive. They might be watching out for their progeny’s progeny. Who knows.
They usually nap at 12, but we decided to stretch it to 1. Their lunch consisted of - you guessed it - champurrado, juice box and pan dulce. I lost count of Inez’s total pan dulce consumption around 6. Inez’s belly was tight and distended like an African drum.
Robin drove them home and said that they were asleep by the time they hit the road. When he lay them in their cribs, a little dust cloud billowed up.
Oh, the twins.
Don’t forget!
Our pumpkin picking party is tomorrow, Saturday October 10, from 11-4.
We will be at our Saturn Blvd location. Or what we affectionately call “Kiki Town”. I suppose should bring Kiki. For posterity, you understand.
1801 Saturn Blvd
San Diego, 92154
We will offer light refreshments. Jehovah’s Fitness will play some music. For the less adventurous, we will have pre-picked pumpkins. Otherwise, it’s a free for all!
Looking forward to seeing you there!
Guess what arrived yesterday? Just in time for any vampires who might think about attacking us poor innocent farmer’s this Halloween? Garlic! A gargantuan box of garlic!
We planted onions and leeks last month. Some of you have already begun to enjoy our purple bunching onions. Well, now we will be able to add a foundation ingredient to our repertoire.
I’ve heard from some potential shareholders that they are allergic to garlic, onions and leeks. Amazing. Perhaps they are functioning vampires. I feel for them. It must be impossible to eat out with an allergy like that. It seems that almost everything is prepared with a basic sautee of garlic and onions.
At first I told those potential shareholders not to wory. We weren’t growing garlic or onions in our fields, so they wouldn’t be receiving those things. But now we will begin to prepare for our garlic planting.
The garlic arrives whole - just like you see in the grocery store. Before we plant it we will need to separate the cloves. Each clove gets planted 1 1/2 to 2 inches below the surface, root side down between 4-6 inches away from it’s closest neighbor. Buried in the ground, the one clove will turn into two, turn into ten - or more! It will divide and divide, like a fertilized egg. It’s creating it’s new self. It’s amazing!
Garlic likes to be planted in the fall - before the last frost, or by November at the latest. This being Coastal San Diego, what is considered our first frost is the last frost in the rest of the country.
We get dinged with frosts in late November/early December. Already the fall weather is slowing the growth of our plants. Our microgreens have slowed way down. I get it. The house is cold in the mornings. The girls are wearing their long sleeved jammies. They want to snuggle in bed with us before getting ready for school. They want books read to them. They want warm breakfasts. I usually exercise at 4:45, but I’ve been ignoring the alarm and sleeping in.
But this is perfect garlic planting weather. It’s perfect farming weather in general.
The days are still long enough to get the work done. The cooler weather means you can work in the field comfortably. With the cooler days and nights, you can catch up on your harvesting. You don’t look at all the rows of beans and think “impossible”. All the plants grow more slowly, including the weeds. Carrots need the cold to get sweet.
San Diego gets flack for not having seasons. Of course we have seasons! June Gloom, May Grey, Fire Season. The thing is that our seasons are subtle. They are laid back in a Southern California way. It can be hard because our mild weather means we don’t have an enforced rest time. We can keep going, planting, harvesting, achieving all year long. Exhausting!
So now the Earth is moving into a time of stillness. There is still much work to be done, many rows to prepare, seeds to plant, harvesting to do. I’m going to hunker down like the carrots and garlic when I can. I’m going to divide and become my new self. I’m going to get cold. I’m going to get sweet.