The Coquille tribe cashes in on its cranberry-rich history.
Farming Innovators by Celeste LeCompte and April Streeter - 12.5.05
In the following feature, Sustainable Industries Journal takes a look at a few of the farming innovations behind a traditional holiday meal, from Northwest cranberries and California wine to heritage turkeys and specialty potatoes. The business of agriculture appears ripe with opportunity for hard-working innovators.
Oregon's Coquille tribe has turned to its history to develop its profitable cranberries business. Fetzer Vineyards' E3 program turns out thoroughly modern organic wine while using less resources. Ronniger Potato Farm first faced the challenge of potato farming — and now deals with the challenges of retiring from it, while Thundering Hooves Ranch saves heritage breed turkeys to save the family farm.
Cranberries: A picky fruit by Celeste LeCompte
They like sandy, well-drained soil. They like cool weather. And they really like water. Lots of it. But because they’re so choosy, there are only a few places where cranberries grow very well. Read more...
Wine: Culture of the vine by Celeste LeCompte
Weighing in at 1,821 acres, Fetzer Vineyards’ Mendocino County farms make up nearly one-fourth of the certified organic vineyards in California. Read more...
Potatoes: This spud's for you by April Streeter
Back in the days when the only potatoes at the grocery were faithful Idaho Russets or Reds, David Ronniger didn’t imagine he’d one day be king of specialty spuds. Read more...
Turkeys: Salvaging a rare breed by Celeste LeCompte
Joel and Cynthia Huesby were in the business of raising pastured beef and chickens for several years before they were convinced by friends in the “Slow Food” movement to try their hand at heritage turkeys. Read more...
Cranberries: A picky fruit by Celeste LeCompte
Oregon's Coquille tribe taps its history to turn a profit with organic cranberries.Photo courtesy Coquille Cranberries
They like sandy, well-drained soil. They like cool weather. And they really like water. Lots of it.
But because they’re so choosy, there are only a few places where cranberries grow very well: cool, coastal nooks and crannies of New England and the Northwest. A native plant of North America, the cranberry was gathered by native people on both coasts, and it has been prized for its acidity, rare for most regional fruits.
In the late 1800s, entrepreneurs from the East Coast introduced cultivated cranberry varieties to the southeastern coast of Oregon. White settlers and native people — usually women — worked in the cultivated cranberry bogs, hand-picking berries for commercial sale, according to George Wasson, a member of the Coquille tribe who holds a Ph.D. in anthropology. Wasson’s grandmother was one of those women, and he gladly shares a 1906 photograph of her with anyone who asks.
Oregon cranberries make up 8 percent of U.S. cranberry production, according to the Oregon Department of Agriculture. But in 1995, when the Coquille Economic Development Corp. (CEDCO) began to search out new programs, Wasson suggested there was an opportunity in cranberries — specifically in organic cranberries. CEDCO’s then-director Bruce Anderson agreed, and Coquille Cranberries was born.
“The south coast of Oregon is an optimal growing climate for cranberries,” says Bill Snyder, project manager for Coquille Cranberries. “Ten years ago, when these bogs were planted, it was obvious to CEDCO that organic products were a growth business.”
The first crop was harvested in 1998. Since 2003, the tribe’s 10 acres of cranberry bogs have been turning a healthy profit, Snyder says.
Cranberry vines are perennial, taking six to eight years to mature. The first few years are slow-going, with low yields and large frontend investment in building the bogs, Snyder explains.
Coquille Cranberries’ operation is designed to be water-efficient, with each football-sized bog at a slightly lower elevation than the previous. The upper bog drains into the lower bogs, and a retention pond is located at the end. Water from the retention pond is re-used for irrigation.
Each bog is sunken about 3 feet below the surrounding terrain, and at harvest time the entire area is flooded to the top of the vines. The ripest cranberries come off the vines on their own, and a tractor called a “picker” or “beater” agitates the water to loosen the others. Cranberries are hollow and float to the surface. Harvest workers corral the cranberries toward an elevator in one corner of the bog, where the berries are lifted into trucks.
The main advantage of organic berries is their uniform color, Snyder says.
“Our vines tend to produce uniformly colored fruit, where some of the other growers are getting higher yields, their berries are a light green or white,” Snyder says. “They don’t get the chance to become fully ripened because they’re shaded out by the intense vegetation” that heavy fertilization produces.
Because they tend to be more uniformly colored — and some say slightly sweeter — organic cranberries bring a slightly higher price. The tribe sells the cranberries as fresh fruit through Organically Grown Co. It also sells the product to the Yakima Tribe-operated Yakima Juice, as well as Meduri Farms, which makes organic sweetened dried cranberries.
Organic cranberries present some particular challenges, however. Chief among those problems is a lack of nitrogen in the sandy soil. Conventional cranberry production uses high-nitrogen, synthetic fertilizers that organic production doesn’t allow. Thus, organic cranberry yields are typically half that of non-organic. In 2005, yields were low for both organic and non-organic berries. The Coquille operation produced just 110,000 pounds, down 45 percent from 200,000 pounds produced in 2004.
Weighing in at 1,821 acres, Fetzer Vineyards’ Mendocino County farms make up nearly one-fourth of the certified organic vineyards in California. But Fetzer’s land holdings produce less than 17 percent of the grapes that go into its 4 million cases of wine each year. Do the math, and it’s clear that even if Fetzer were to purchase all the organic wine grapes in California, the vineyards still wouldn’t meet Fetzer’s needs. So the company established a program to help its contract growers tackle organic and more sustainable production methods.
Fetzer considered requiring all its growers to switch to organic methods, but eventually it toned down its approach to focus on education and support, says Ann Thrup, manager of organic development at Fetzer Vineyards. The business now provides growers with classes and a manual on growing organic grapes.
Because winemakers want flavorful grapes with twice as much sugar as grapes in the average fruit salad, organic vintners don’t worry about reduced yields; in many cases they prefer them. And “compared to strawberries and other crops, it’s relatively easy to grow organic because you don’t have the cosmetic standards,” Thrup adds.
The company’s Bonterra label, made solely with organic and biodynamic grapes, is gaining recognition, and the company is hoping to expand the line in the next few years. To meet that goal, Fetzer is trusting that more growers will welcome organic production. “We’re not insisting,” Thrup says. “We just encourage people to try.”
Organic farming is the bedrock of the company’s E3 Program — what Nicole Birdsall, Bonterra’s assistant winemaker, calls “that little thing we operate under.” The program, which looks at the benefits of company policies and practices to the environment, social equity, and economics, depends on providing education and tools rather than setting strict goals.
The results have been dramatic. Since 1990, the company says it has slashed garbage output by 95 percent while quadrupling wine production. And while most companies in the wine business use five to seven gallons of water to make a gallon of wine, Fetzer claims to have slimmed down to just 1.9 gallons. On-site English as a Second Language classes, biodiesel-powered trucks, and renewable power purchasing are also part of the mix.
Potatoes: This spud's for you by April Streeter
French Fingerlings made a comeback in the United States thanks to David Ronniger. Photo courtesy Craig Rockey.
Back in the days when the only potatoes at the grocery were faithful Idaho Russets or Reds, David Ronniger didn’t imagine he’d one day be king of specialty spuds.
In the 20 years since Ronniger bought his remote valley farm near Idaho’s border with Canada, he has been credited with helping to reintroduce the French Fingerling and German Butterball potatoes, discovering a new potato called the Candy Stripe, and making more than a score of other hard-to-find tubers available to farmers, home growers and the food world.
But over the two decades Ronniger has spent finding and organically cultivating specialty potatoes, the hard work didn’t leave much time to pursue personal interests or ponder how the brand might continue once he was ready to get out. The problem isn’t unique to specialty growers, who usually have only themselves to count on for success or the lack of it.
“My heart’s desire is to move on and pursue other interests I best get to before life passes me by,” Ronniger wrote earlier this year in a letter to his customers.
Ronniger hasn’t sold his 80 acres near Idaho’s panhandle, but he has bequeathed the Ronniger Potato Farm brand to a trio of growers in Colorado — Milk Ranch Specialty Potatoes near Powder Horn, Rockey Farms near Center, and White Mountain Farm near Mosca in the state’s San Luis Valley.
Milk Ranch’s Craig Rockey is signed on to lead the group as marketing and sales manager, and the group will continue to put out the Ronniger catalog, loved by customers for its many potato-growing tips and tricks. The group also plans to handle Ronniger’s separate seed and specialty potato sales.
Ronniger didn’t originally set out to bring back potato cultivars that had lost favor with American farmers. He first failed at supplying his mothers’ Salt Lake City health food store with organic produce and then at producing an Echinacea herb crop. His third idea, though, was the charm.
Ronniger had a long-time curiosity about unusual tubers and the old-fashioned growing methods of the Dutch growers in Idaho and across the border in Canada. From the start he grew the potatoes organically. The farm was the 19th in the state to get certification.
By the time Ronniger figured out how to encourage soil fertility, fight diseases like late blight and discourage pests, a few trends were converging to help make a market for his goods. Organic growing and farmers markets were commencing their upward trends, and a new American cuisine was emerging for new potato choices to supplement the bland, if versatile, Russet.
Ronniger successfully worked the niche, experimenting at one point with as many as 200 different varieties before scaling back to about 60. Mostly by word-of-mouth, Ronniger found chefs around the country willing to pay to have Butterballs, Fingerlings or Purple Vikings sent by FedEx to upscale restaurants.
But the constant work of potato farming, the mail order seed business and another side business raising Haflinger horses was more than a full-time job. “It kept us busy seven days a week,” says David’s wife Caryl Ronniger.
In the 1990s, Ronniger attempted to offload the seed portion of the business. But sales had built up such a dedicated following with home gardeners and the organic community that he decided to bring it back into the Ronniger brand. Long-time suppliers to Ronniger, Rockey and his partners are a natural choice to carry on the legacy, Ronniger says.
While Ronniger was dedicated to organically certified potatoes, Rockey and partners are taking a slightly different tack. Milk Ranch and Rockey Farm grow using organic methods, Rockey says, but they aren’t certified and won’t be in future. Only White Mountain Farm will have potatoes and potato seed for those requiring certified product.
“We are shying away from organic certification because of cost, paperwork and politics,” Rockey wrote as his part of the letter notifying customers of the ownership transition this year.
Ronniger Potato Farm is no longer unique in producing exotic potato varieties for an expanding American palate. But Rockey expects the market is large enough for newcomers despite the low-carb Atkins diet, glycemic index or other fads.
“I’m expecting and hoping the market will continue to grow,” Rockey says. “It’s currently the East and West Coasts aware of all the different types of potatoes. It may take a little bit longer for people in the Midwest to think of anything but the Russet or the Red. But that’s changing as we get the word out.”
Though Ronniger might be through with potatoes and now focused on “hiking and fishing,” as his wife Caryl notes, his farm will continue to grow Jerusalem artichokes. A funny-looking tuber, the Jerusalem artichoke hasn’t really caught the attention of the American vegetable connoisseur. At least not yet. Turkeys: Salvaging a rare breed by Celeste LeCompte
Thanks-giving turkeys: Joel Huesby saved Wishard Strain turkeys from extinction by serving them up on holiday tables. Photo by Jim Anderson
Joel and Cynthia Huesby were in the business of raising pastured beef and chickens for several years before they were convinced by friends in the “Slow Food” movement to try their hand at heritage turkeys. The Huesby’s Thundering Hooves farm purchased a few young turkeys each year and found the birds did pretty well roaming on their pastures.
“The genetics of the animals were more in tune with being raised in nature,” explains Keith Swanson, Joel’s brother-in-law.
But in early December 2003, the Walla Walla, Wash., farm received an offer it couldn’t refuse from the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy: the chance to adopt the last flock of a rare turkey breed, or watch it face extinction in a few short days.
Marc Wishard, whose father Charles had developed and nurtured a breed of turkey known as the unimproved standard Bronze Wishard Strain, was ready to get out of the turkey business. His flock of 3,000 birds was having trouble finding a home, and he announced that by Dec. 6 he would slaughter the flock.
Wishard Strain birds are prized for both their heartiness on the farm and their tastiness on the table, so the Huesby’s took the plunge.
“My mother-in-law Lois and my brother-in-law Bryan got in a pick-up truck and drove a couple of hours,” recalls Swanson. “They picked up 40 hens and six toms and brought them back.”
This year, Thundering Hooves had about 200 unimproved standard Bronze Wishard strain turkeys on the ranch, and it plans to have 400 next year. Thanks to the efforts of Slow Food members and a glowing article in The New York Times, Thundering Hooves sold all 200 birds by September.
The Huesby family began to transition its fourth-generation family farm from conventional wheat production to sustainable and organic meat production in the late 1990s, after realizing they couldn’t continue to compete in the regular commodity market. “By the mid ‘90s we had pretty much determined that that wasn’t going to work for us, but weren’t sure what we were going to do,” says Swanson.
Joel’s wife Cynthia was the first to pitch pastured meat. The operation started with under 100 chickens, and it has expanded rapidly in the past five years. This year, the farm sold about 400 turkeys (including the 200 unimproved Bronzes), 2,800 chickens, 100 head of beef cattle, 38 lambs, and some goats.
Thundering Hooves now has nearly 400 acres of certified organic pastures where its animals graze, and the operation is in the process of getting all its meats to meet organic standards. The farm also purchased a nearby slaughterhouse and retail storefront, which is run by Joel’s brother Bryan. The business’ efforts were recently recognized with a Vim Wright Stewardship Award from the nonprofit Farming and the Environment.
Wishard turkeys have been a good fit for Thundering Hooves’ pasture operation, says Swanson.
Even though it takes Bronze birds nearly twice as many weeks to mature as commercial varieties, Thundering Hooves doesn’t worry about feeding them or protecting them from late season chills because the birds like to forage and can survive the hot summers and cool falls of eastern Washington.
The birds are a good fit financially, as well. Demand for heritage breed turkeys at holiday tables has been expanding in recent years.
Swanson, who is responsible for marketing at Thundering Hooves, says the farm could significantly expand its turkey operation in coming years. There are still a few kinks to work out, though.
“We have the land for it, but these turkeys present very particular management challenges,” he says with a laugh. “They fly.”
Fences that keep predators out don’t do much to keep turkeys in, and if the birds are kept too close to the house, they’re likely to roost on the roof. And Bronze turkeys are quite large, Swanson’s quick to point out. “Some of these toms can do some damage to your existing structure,” he says.
Swanson also seems realistic about the limits of the marketplace.
“It’s a challenge for people pricewise,” he admits. “I don’t know what percentage is able to pay $50 to $60 for a turkey when you can go to the grocery store and they’ll say, ‘Come in and spend 50 bucks and we’ll give you a free turkey.’”
The key, Swanson says, is to reach educated customers and educate more customers about “the true cost of good quality, healthy meat.”
“The reality of sustainable farming is that it needs to be not only ecologically sound and socially sound, but it also needs to be fiscally sound,” Swanson said. “And the reality is that’s a challenge when people are used to paying the grocery store prices where the costs of raising those meats were largely externalized.”
