1 of 8
2 of 8
3 of 8
4 of 8
5 of 8
6 of 8
7 of 8
8 of 8
Editor's Note: Little kids take field trips; big kids do, too. On April 8, SLM contributors Jenny Agnew and Byron Kerman visited fifth-generation farmer Todd Geisert (left) for the second annual Chefs in the Pasture event held at the family farm in Washington, Missouri. Each had different impressions. Here they are, "he said-she said" style:
He:
Do you like bacon? Of course you do, unless you’re some kind of freak or vegetarian or something. You probably also like pork chops, and ribs, and meat sticks, and brats and well, you get the idea. In a city that just hosted a hugely popular “Baconfest” at the heart of Downtown, pig is (still) king.
One of the key players in our little corner of the Baconverse is Geisert Farms in nearby Washington, Missouri, where fifth-generation farmer Todd Geisert and family raise nearly 1,000 pigs the way you’re supposed to–naturally, without antibiotics or hormones.
This past Monday Geisert hosted a porkstravaganza for chefs, restaurant owners, grocers, wholesalers, and insider-types. The annual Chefs in the Pasture event was noteworthy because we visitors got to see how pigs at every stage of life range, roam, rut, roll, relax and receive mother’s milk. And then we sampled a bit of every single different pork product Geisert makes. And then we rolled, relaxed, and rode out of town happy and very full.
She:
Sitting high atop a hill on an unseasonably warm spring day, booths showcasing Geisert’s products waited for hungry guests. Also present were representatives from local purveyors most St. Louisans are familiar with—Schlafly and Companion—and others that come from Washington’s environs—Augusta Brewing Co., Pinckney Bend Distillery, and Pappy’s Gourmet. Anchored at one end of the booths was a massive grill with choice cuts cooking away, and Katie Geisert, Todd’s wife, stood by slipping us slabs of bacon as we chatted. Just beyond the spread, a sheer drop ending in train tracks and the Missouri River reminded us to watch our step.
Unlike my colleague, I wasn’t there for the bacon. I wanted to see piglets, and wore my best “casual farm attire” as the invitation instructed in case I got to hold one. Perched on straw bales in a flatbed pulled by a tractor, we jostled around as we rode by Geisert’s honor-system produce stand (left) before making our way into the pastures. Dotting the fields were the farm’s signature A-frame structures with walls made from recycled billboards (above). Outside several of the “pig-houses” rested the resident sows (below) with their piglets too busy nursing to notice the trailers, except the occasional runt peeking back at us in curiosity as it patiently waited for a teat.
When we stopped in front of one of the A-frames, and Geisert picked up two piglets by the front legs, chaos ensued. Not really, but the collective force of everyone rushing to the side of the wagon to get a closer look had us imagining that the trailer would pitch over. Amid the excitement, it was every photographer for herself, as we jockeyed for position to capture the best shot, and large video equipment swung dangerously close. Luckily, it became clear that we would stay there for a while, and anyone who was interested would have a chance to hold a piglet. “Cradle, don’t squeeze,” advised Geisert while the piglets squealed in an alarming manner.
He:
That moment certainly provided the day’s apogee of cute. Those piglets were adorable, and everyone wanted to rub their fingers along the hairy backs and soft bellies of these future foodstuffs. I paused to consider the ethics of extinguishing innocent animal life for our carnivorous delectations, but later I moaned in pleasure when pushing slices of Geisert’s tomato-basil-mozzarella brat down my gullet. I am guilty.
Jenny, you and I both loved watching the young pigs run across the pasture. They look like tiny bucking broncos, gamboling in happiness. I also enjoyed watching them compete greedily for a teat in a grouping that numbered less than the litter. Those poor runts, watching their siblings suck away. I feel for the underdog. Or the underpig. Whatever.
The field trip continued.
We learned:
--Geisert’s swine, fed corn with a soybean supplement, reach about 280 lbs. in six months, at which point (below left) they’re ready for the slaughterhouse.
--Breeder pigs (Geisert referred to them as boars), if they are to live together, must spend their whole lives together, Geisert said; remove a boar from the group (right) for a single day and then put it back, he said, and the other boars will kill what they perceive as a new competitor.
--Pigs root through the dirt and aerate the soil. The clever Geisert rotates the pastures and uses the freshly aerated soil to grow tomatoes for his farmstand.
--One danger to pigs: predatory coyotes and, said Geisert, the possibility, however remote, that an area hawk could swoop down and make off with a piglet
She:
Geisert’s products can be found in a number of restaurants and markets, including Foundation Grounds, Bailey’s Range, Winslow’s Home, Fair Shares CSA, Maude’s Market, and Local Harvest Grocery. Several chefs and industry experts were there touring the farm and sampling products. We saw Bernard Pilon, executive chef at Norwood Hills Country Club, Rob Uyemura of Local Chef StL, Andy Ayers of Eat Here StL, and Julie Ridlon, a personal chef and expert on all things food.
He:
And we ate . . . like pigs. Geisert’s creativity was on display as guests got to try samples (left) of his marvelously spiced “brat burgers,” snappy hot dogs, filling shroom-and-Swiss brats, savory potato sausage, dynamite beer-and-onion brats, fresh Braunschweiger, and many other creations. Geisert’s next porky production will be the bacon-cheddar brat, he says. Sounds like wicked man-food.
She:
As the smell of those delicious products intermingled with the stronger smell of manure (it is a hog farm, after all), we couldn’t help but recognize and appreciate the larger cycle of farm production, available through all the senses, but most clearly through the nose—an olfactory narrative of the farm-to-table process.
Photograph of Todd Geisert courtesy of Curt Dennison Photography.
by Jenny Agnew and Byron Kerman
