1. Love
& DirtWORKING AND EATING
AT OAK SPRING FARM
CAROLINE CASSARD
Photography by Julia Stotz | Styling by Caroline Hwang

2. Early morning fog melts into 91 degrees of squash plant-
scratched arms and sunscreen-slathered skin. We’ve got our
knees in dirt and hands caked with soil, planting lettuce in
rowsthatswayslightlytotheleft.It’saTuesdayonOakSpring
Farm in Northern Maryland, and a shipment has arrived.
One box contains three bags stuffed
full of dark, dry, scraggly roots that
lead up to one small knot at the top.
Lisa ordered 400 strawberry plants.
She’s the organic farmer in charge, the
L.A. biology teacher-turned East Coast
agriculturalist, wife, and mother of
three. She’s also my aunt—that’s how
I got this job. Lisa hates to roll down
plastic, but when it comes to weeding
around hundreds of roots that will re-
side in the earth for 10 months, she’s
given little choice. The thin white ma-
terial will hold strawberry-strangling
strands at bay.
The last days of July are among us,
and these roots need to be planted to-
day to ripen by the following June. Lisa
and her intern, Kevin, have already
tilled the field, stirred up the soil, and
laid one of three long plastic sheets
over symmetrical drip tapes for wa-
tering. We poke and dig deep, narrow
holes through the plastic and into the
soft, rain-drenched earth. We slip the
roots inside, push the soil tight to pre-
vent any air gaps, and sturdy the top in
place with a small lump of extra dirt.
Now only 397 to go.
I’ve served in restaurants and even
spent some time in the prep kitchen.
But working summer days on my
aunt’s farm is the most fulfilling, phys-
ically exhausting, and mind-clearing
role I’ve experienced in the food in-
dustry. Tilling, planting, weeding, har-
vesting, washing, sorting, and sharing
lunch with Lisa has refocused my view
of what food should and can be. We just
have to reset our standards from the
ground up.
Before it’s bursting with crates full of
cherry tomatoes, an explosion of pep-
permint, and clean, weeded rows of
kale, Oak Spring Farm depends upon
a full ecosystem of characters. There’s
intern Kevin, who insists on reggae-
themed Tuesdays and makes us laugh
even on the most humid afternoons,
double-major college graduate Bay-
ley, an agriculturalist-in-training, and
sweet Barbara from Pennsylvania,
who noticed Lisa’s vibrant produce at
the farmers’ market and decided to
volunteer onsite. A few CSA members
offer half a day’s help before packing
up their shares to enjoy at home, too.
Across the yard, the foster kids are
hard at work, fenced-in in the back
pasture. No, really, they’re just kids—
three (or four) small goats endlessly
munching on overgrown grass. They
get traded between a couple of small
farms, so it’s unclear to whom they re-
ally belong anymore.
And then, the chickens. Forget “free
range,” these girls do as they please. As
I round the driveway each morning,
one brown-feathered bird or another
feasts on the compost pile. And why lay
eggs in the hen house when the grassy
yard works just as well? Sometimes I
wonder who’s running this place, but
the winged ladies keep us on our toes.
Lisa’s the boss, and the first to re-
mind us what it’s all about. “I’m just
growing some food,” she says. At the
end of the day, it’s a business. She isn’t
striving to feed all of the Americas
with mass-produced, FDA certified-
organic food. Nor is her day-job a just-
for-kicks, fill-your-soul-with-veggies,
hippy-dippy hobby. Like any smart
organic farmer, Lisa wants to sell her
produce for what it’s worth. And that
means displaying the lettuce bounty
in a large cooler at market, to be hand-
selected and weighed upon purchase.
10 REMEDY QUARTERLY

3. Business means picking through 60
pounds of yellow squash for the best-
looking, restaurant-appropriate 16
pounds: small, not too soft, and pale
yellow, with unscratched skin free of
brown spots. The chef may’ve asked
for 20 pounds, but if only 16 rank top-
notch quality, then that’s what we’ll
sell them.
This work requires maximum orga-
nization: writing growers’ contracts,
making restaurant deliveries, manag-
ing a market stand, planting enough
of a crop at the right time of year, at
a time of day that’s preferably not too
hot, with workers who sort of know
what they’re doing, and always, always,
always, watering sprouting seeds be-
fore afternoon strikes, and they fry in
the greenhouse.
At noon, we break for lunch. Farm-
ing is anything but slow living, as this
is the only pause in the day. Tomato
sandwiches are the staple: fruits sliced
thin and layered with cucumbers, or
one thick, juicy slab melting onto a
narrow spread of chives cheese. Berke-
ley Tie-dye, Cherokee Purple, Brandy
Wine, and the Sun Gold cherries—
they’re all here. The bread is a whole-
wheat focaccia, baked locally with
Parmesan and honey and purchased
at Saturday’s market. We eat outside
at the picnic table—also the egg-clean-
ing station—and sip Lisa’s homemade
kombucha from glasses. The flavor’s al-
ways different, and we try to guess, but
even the maker herself isn’t sure. Lisa’s
not one to write down recipes or label
her creations. She just wants to savor
the end product for what it is.
From sharing time on Lisa’s farm,
I’ve learned to sort out the accidentally
chopped-off beet greens from the Swiss
chard basket; to gently feel around for
new potatoes, harvesting a few without
uprooting the plant; and to pack CSA
bags to the absolute top, preventing any
irritated email complaints about miss-
ing eggplants. I’ve been taught to cut
foot-long chives as close to the ground
as possible, lay them pin-straight in
a bag, and box them up to meet res-
taurant standards. I’ll race to harvest
cherry tomatoes and weed in the high
tunnel before the noon heat engulfs
At noon, we break
for lunch. Farming
is anything but slow
living, as this is the
only pause in the day.
ISSUE Nº 19: SHARE 13

4. the airtight structure. Later, I’ll sort the
overflowing crates in the pole barn. The
slightest give with the press of a thumb
is the signal, she tells me. If cherry to-
matoes are already soft on a Thursday,
we can’t sell them at Saturday’s market.
One Thursday afternoon, as onions
lay on a tarp, drying out in the sun,
Barbara and I escape the boiling heat to
the dark shade of a cool barn. We chop
garlic bulbs from their stalks, rolling
the purple-and-white heads into crates
and daydreaming of drenching garlic
bread in a shallow plate of fresh tomato
sauce. The next week, I help to uproot
more garlic, tie twine around the stalks,
and toss them over the barn’s banisters
to dry.
The open air and single-tasked goals
keep me sane. Amidst an ever-growing
to-do list, we take things one at a time.
Sitting around the picnic table at noon
with fresh, artisanal sandwiches and
salad decked out with blue cheese and
yellow cucumbers gives us a chance to
take in the farm-fresh breeze. “Love
and dirt,” Lisa says, pouring everyone
a second glass of kombucha. That’s
what life at Oak Spring Farm seems to
be about.
The rams may’ve escaped the fence
and eaten an entire row of baby lettuce,
the chickens aren’t laying as many eggs
as last week, and the ginger plants are
unnoticed and stepped-upon along the
left side of the high tunnel, but it’s ok.
On a rented plot of land just down the
road, we’re planting brassicas in three
rows where already-harvested fava
beans were bursting from the dirt just
last week. The cycle’s on repeat, and an
autumn menu is in order. R
Amidst an
ever-growing
to-do list, we
take things one
at a time.

5. SWEET POTATO & FRESH GINGER MUFFINS (VEGAN)
MAKES 20 MUFFINS
Invite the aroma of fresh ginger to totally envelop your kitchen,
and bake these little guys while locally sourced potatoes and
ginger root are available in abundance this fall.
1 large sweet potato,
peeled and grated
(or 2 cups grated
sweet potato)
2 Tbsp fresh, finely
grated ginger
11/2 cups unsweetened
applesauce
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla
11/2 cups whole-wheat
flour
11/2 cups all-purpose
flour
1 cup brown sugar
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup unsalted
sunflower kernels
Preheat your oven to 350° F and butter or line two
muffin tins.
1. In a medium bowl, mix together the grated sweet
potato, fresh ginger, applesauce, oil, and vanilla.
2. Stir in the flours, sugar, salt, baking soda, and
cinnamon.
3. Add two 1 1/2 Tbsp scoops (3 Tbsp total) to
each muffin tin. Sprinkle each with sunflower
kernels for a satisfying crunch atop soft, sweet
breakfast bread.
4. Bake for 18-20 minutes, and let cool for the fresh
flavors to settle in.
ISSUE Nº 19: SHARE 17