Big Sur Bakery Cookbook - Michelle Wojtowicz [37]
Since we have a wood-fired grill and oven, we could still cook, but we no longer had functioning registers, credit card machines, lights, or music. We also didn’t have power for the exhaust fan that sucks the smoke from the wood-fired grill out of the kitchen. So there was a smoky kitchen full of stressed-out employees and a restaurant floor packed with confused, irritable, impatient, hungry customers. What’s more, Mike and Phil were both unreachable, which meant that Michelle had to try to pacify the customers, deal with the staff, and figure out how to get the generator on—and while she’s talented in many areas, she’ll tell you herself that fixing generators is not one of her strengths. Eventually she succeeded, but it didn’t even solve the problem; we share its power with the gas station next door, and it’s not strong enough to provide energy for both of us, so the power still kept going in and out.
It was the sort of experience that didn’t make sense—no electricity on a sunny summer day in 21st-century America—until you realize that we’re twenty-seven miles from the nearest city and there’s basically one power line that runs down from Carmel. An auto accident, a single tree branch—it doesn’t take much to knock out our electricity.
Photographs by Sara Remington
The only option was to close the restaurant, but as soon as the staff had gotten excited about the idea of an unexpected afternoon off, the power suddenly went back on and the day went back to normal. It all worked out, but it still prompts the question: The Fourth of July is a “barbecue holiday” that should be spent on the beach, where it doesn’t matter if you have electricity, so why the hell are we open?
Photographs by Sara Remington
Photographs by Sara Remington
PROFILE: JAMIE/ORGANIC ROW CROPPER
Photographs by Sara Remington
Describe Serendipity Farms:
Our main farm in Carmel started in the 1920s as the Odello Artichoke Ranch, run by Italian sharecroppers. The Odellos kept this farm going until the disastrous El Niño flooding in the winter of ’97–98. I have a great relationship with them. They’re thrilled to see the land in production again.
What do you raise?
Heirloom tomatoes, artichokes, strawberries, raspberries, and various greens, herbs, and root crops—whatever will flourish on the Monterey peninsula, except asparagus and fruit trees.
Why?
Asparagus is a weeding hell. And fruit trees don’t come into commercial production for eight to ten years, which isn’t practical for us because we lease our land.
Favorite ways to eat tomatoes:
Sliced on toasted Asiago sourdough bread with a scrambled egg, greens, mayo, and sea salt—the breakfast of champions. You also can’t beat a Caprese salad.
Benefits of being a female farmer:
Women farmers are rare, so it helps Serendipity Farms to stand out. Lots of women like to support other women working in typically male-dominated careers. I do, too—I just heard that the Carmel Valley fire chief is a woman and I was like, “Right on, firewoman!”
Favorite part of farming:
Being able to harvest the freshest produce possible and share it with others. I also like to work really hard during the season, then take time off in the winter to travel.
Hardest part:
Making the money last until harvest. I can’t help but add more to the farm or try something new every year. This year we got two beehives, and our seven Nubian goats just gave birth.
Any family history of farming?
Nope. I grew up in the concrete jungle of L.A., where no one has a clue where their food came from. I had to get the hell out of there.
Plans for the future:
Goat cheese, honey, summer farming