When the new crop of farmer hopefuls arrived at Calypso Farm in Ester last April, there was no soil in sight. The farm’s acreage remained buried under thick snow. “Everything was dead,” says California native Holly Brookings. Interior Alaska doesn’t give up on winter easily.
The Farmer Training Program would start May 1, but for several weeks more, the students would just have to imagine climbing up and down the soil terraces, planting rows of flowers, vegetables, herbs, and, soon enough, crouching down to thin and weed the plants to encourage abundance.
Read the piece, the second of a four-part series, on Edible Alaska.
Twenty-three miles south of Anchorage on the Seward Highway, the first glimpse of Froth & Forage’s turquoise roof comes two mountainside highway curves ahead of the restaurant’s gravel parking. Though the weathered wood building looks like the barbecue shack it was in a past life, it is now home to a 22-seat restaurant headed up by a chef who wants to prove that a restaurant in south-central Alaska can thrive using local ingredients or, at least, other small local purveyors, instead of goods delivered from, as Alaskans call it, Outside.
Posted at 04:41 PM in Alaska, Food and Drink, Travel | Permalink
During the first couple of years after moving to Anchorage from the east coast (NYC, mostly), I cobbled together a list of restaurants that could quell at least some of the missing-there and homesick-for-certain-restaurants feelings and hunger pangs that welled up.
One thing that seemed like it should be fairly easy to find eluded me: why couldn’t I find a pizza place that felt a little more like those back home?
Posted at 07:29 PM in Alaska, Food and Drink, NYC, Travel | Permalink
With Anchorage’s snow and chilly temps lasting far longer than those of most lower 48 cities, locals take their summers very seriously. While the rest of America slows down once the season hits, Anchorageites go full tilt. Nature offers up extended hours of daylight—22 at the summer solstice—making it easy to go, go, go. There’s no time to be tired and no excuses for not doing some learning, hiking and plenty of tasting. Although more cosmopolitan than first-timers expect—there’s a Nordstrom and a sizable performing arts center—the city never lets visitors forget they’re in Alaska. The Chugach Mountains rise high to the east, bush planes zip overhead and, now and again, a moose wanders downtown.
What to do if you have a day off in Anchorage? I've got answers.
The first of four pieces that will take readers through a year of the farmer training program at Calypso Farm & Ecology Center. The Ester, AK-based program "brings together traditional in-the-field education with an extensive curriculum ranging from farm business plans to animal husbandry, blacksmithing, and seed saving. 'The main thing I left there with was this confidence and inspiration and drive to go out and start farming on my own. And I did,' says Stephanie Stallman, a Minnesota resident who went through the program's launch year."
I’m fairly certain my love of camping kitchen gear grew out of my childhood obsession with buying things for my dollhouse. I wasn’t a fan of playing with the dollhouse itself. The dolls were creepy. But stocking that tiny kitchen was pure joy. All those tiny things! The wee cast iron skillet. The mini mini fridge. Those itty bitty strips of bacon. When I started camping a decade back, I found the same thrill in buying camping gear. I mean, seriously, the chance to stock another kitchen? And some of the gear is on the tiny side? The best. Ready to pack your own bag (or car) and hit the trail (or campground)?
The cookies—neatly frosted half black, half white—came in a brushed metal tin stamped with the Dean & Deluca logo. They were thick, dollar-coin-sized versions of the normally super-sized, cakelike black and white cookies that, as a New York City-area kid, had long been my go-to comfort food. Rugelach and macaroons rated high too, but I’m sure Jewish kids from the Los Angeles area remember them fondly as well. Montrealers too. And all of America owns chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. Black and whites belong to NYC, and I was in need of of as much comfort as I could get.
After opening the tin that came with the day’s mail, I cried. I was weeks into a new role: breast cancer patient, 43 years old and just 11 months into my life in Alaska—which I’d finally moved to after falling in love with it a decade earlier on an expiring frequent flyer miles-motivated trip. My new home city, Anchorage, is 4431 driving miles away from NYC’s delis, bagel bakeries, and bodegas. This was the cookie version of my friend coming over to sit with me, to just listen.
Posted at 06:58 PM in Alaska, Food and Drink, Travel | Permalink
We're treating our kayaks like floating La-Z-Boy recliners, the three of us leaning back, legs stretched out on the decks. Here on the Delaware River, New Jersey lies to our left, Pennsylvania to our right. It's been several minutes since we needed to paddle. As Interstate 80 comes into view, we dip our paddles into the water to guide our boats around one of the thick concrete pillars of the highway overpass, the noise of cars rushing overhead crowding out the river sounds. "It's all right here," says my friend Leslie.
Indeed. That is the best and worst of New Jersey summer up. With 39,000 miles of public roadway paving the 8,723-square-mile state, it's easy to get to everything and, it can seem, hard to get away from anything.
Read more about my NJ road trip on the National Geographic site or in the October National Geographic Traveler.
Posted at 04:12 PM in Food and Drink, Nature, Outdoors, Travel | Permalink