Pray For Mother Nature Jeans release a new video featuring the bison, a powerful symbol of nature. “The centerpiece of the commercial is ‘Cody the Buffalo’. We chose the Bison as a symbol for both the importance of preservation, and the enigmatic spirit of nature.”
Pray for Mother Nature from Funk Factory Films.
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Friday, July 29, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
PURE PIG: Ranch finds modern market for old-world product
HOUSTON, Minn. — The pork raised at the Buffalo Gal Ranch isn’t like the pork your father raised — you’d probably have to go back more than a hundred years to find something similar.
That’s because Mike Fogel and Valerie Shannon raise heritage breeds like Russian wild boar and Ossabaw and Swabian pigs on their farm north of Houston. Some of the breeds trace their origins back to the 15th century.
Due to a Minnesota law that bans the raising of Russian wild boars, the Fogels are the only breeders and producers of the species in the state — their operation dates back to before the law was passed.
Ossabaw pigs, too, are a rare breed to own. The breed traces its heritage to Ossabaw Island off the Georgia state coast, where the breed was abandoned when the Spanish left. The breed went feral, and now wildlife agencies there are trying to kill off the pigs.
At the Buffalo Gal Ranch, littered with detritus and outbuildings from a bygone era of farming, the Fogels are all about doing things the old-fashioned way.
The Fogels let the pigs roam around in their pens or around the old dairy barn converted for their operation.
Outside the barn, litters of pigs roam with mothers, while inside breeding specimens and pigs almost ready for the butcher are housed in individual pens and get hands-on attention and care from Valerie. Lloydie, the stud used for most Russian wild boar breeding, gets regular baths and special meals.
The Fogels have no farrowing pens — small enclosures that hold mothers and piglets — nor do they use steroids, hormones or antibiotics.
“If a weak pig is born, we let nature take its course,” Valerie said.
The pigs are all raised and bred in small groups. “Heritage breeds are not conducive to factory farming,” Valerie said.
Lenny Russo, the chef and proprietor of the Heartland Restaurant and Farm Direct Market in St. Paul, buys all three of the Fogels’ breeds for his restaurant.
Each breed yields different flavors and textures, and Russo mixes them for each day’s menu.
Russo uses the Russians for products like pork chops, pork roasts and pork shoulders.
He also utilizes the whole pig, “from tip to tail.”
Heads are used to make head cheese, while bones are roasted for stocks and sauces.
“We have a really close relationship. It’s been excellent working with the Fogels,” he said.
While area restaurants are big customers for the Fogels, they also sell their products all over the country through their website.
“The Internet has changed so much for us,” Mike Fogel said. “We used to have to go to the brokers with extra merchandise, and they would cut us to the bone on profits.
“Now we send our customers emails about specials, and we sell out.”
Leave it to the Fogels to find a modern way to market a decidedly old-world product.
That’s because Mike Fogel and Valerie Shannon raise heritage breeds like Russian wild boar and Ossabaw and Swabian pigs on their farm north of Houston. Some of the breeds trace their origins back to the 15th century.
Due to a Minnesota law that bans the raising of Russian wild boars, the Fogels are the only breeders and producers of the species in the state — their operation dates back to before the law was passed.
Ossabaw pigs, too, are a rare breed to own. The breed traces its heritage to Ossabaw Island off the Georgia state coast, where the breed was abandoned when the Spanish left. The breed went feral, and now wildlife agencies there are trying to kill off the pigs.At the Buffalo Gal Ranch, littered with detritus and outbuildings from a bygone era of farming, the Fogels are all about doing things the old-fashioned way.
The Fogels let the pigs roam around in their pens or around the old dairy barn converted for their operation.
Outside the barn, litters of pigs roam with mothers, while inside breeding specimens and pigs almost ready for the butcher are housed in individual pens and get hands-on attention and care from Valerie. Lloydie, the stud used for most Russian wild boar breeding, gets regular baths and special meals.
The Fogels have no farrowing pens — small enclosures that hold mothers and piglets — nor do they use steroids, hormones or antibiotics.
“If a weak pig is born, we let nature take its course,” Valerie said.
The pigs are all raised and bred in small groups. “Heritage breeds are not conducive to factory farming,” Valerie said.
Lenny Russo, the chef and proprietor of the Heartland Restaurant and Farm Direct Market in St. Paul, buys all three of the Fogels’ breeds for his restaurant.
Each breed yields different flavors and textures, and Russo mixes them for each day’s menu.
Russo uses the Russians for products like pork chops, pork roasts and pork shoulders.
He also utilizes the whole pig, “from tip to tail.”
Heads are used to make head cheese, while bones are roasted for stocks and sauces.
“We have a really close relationship. It’s been excellent working with the Fogels,” he said.
While area restaurants are big customers for the Fogels, they also sell their products all over the country through their website.
“The Internet has changed so much for us,” Mike Fogel said. “We used to have to go to the brokers with extra merchandise, and they would cut us to the bone on profits.
“Now we send our customers emails about specials, and we sell out.”
Leave it to the Fogels to find a modern way to market a decidedly old-world product.
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Thursday, January 06, 2011
Wild boars: What 'pork used to taste like'
A southeastern Minnesota ranch is the last in the state to produce Russian wild boar, the original pork heritage breed.
By Rick Nelson, Star Tribune, January 6, 2011
Although he may not look the part, Lloydie is the Brad Pitt of Money Creek Buffalo Ranch, a prize stud who sires a steady stream of equally prized animals. Heritage breeds are all the rage among the nation's ever-growing number of pork aficionados, and nothing epitomizes this blast-to-porcine-past greater than the beasts on this fascinating Houston, Minn., spread.
"All pigs are derived from the Russian boar," said Mike Fogel, owner of the Money Creek Buffalo Ranch. "They are the original prehistoric pig."
He ought to know. Mike has been carefully raising Russian wild boar, as well as buffalo and Highland cattle, for 35 years. He and his hard-working family -- the crew includes daughter Nicole and son Derek -- are the last source for wild boar in the state, if not the Midwest. Restricted-species legislation has all but quashed the Russian wild boar in this part of the country; the Fogels' operation was grandfathered in and, should they ever stop, that will spell the end of this incredible animal for Minnesota diners.
As it is, it's a select group of fortunate humans who are able to experience the flavorful glory that is the locally raised Russian wild boar. Lenny Russo, chef/co-owner of Heartland Restaurant & Farm Direct Market in St. Paul, is the Fogels' longest and steadiest Twin Cities customer. He's been buying for eight years.
"I don't know that we've ever been so welcomed by a chef," said Valerie.
"For him, price is not the issue. It's 'How are they raised?' and 'What are they fed?'"
Such are the queries for the flavor- and quality-obsessed. Russian wild boar are much leaner than their standard-issue domesticated pig brethren, but their meat is far richer. "I don't want to use the word 'gamey,'" said Russo. "It has a feral quality that other pigs just don't have. Let me put it this way: When you taste it, you can tell exactly what it is."
Mike Fogel shorthands it: "It's what pork used to taste like."
Flavor isn't the only draw, at least not for Russo. "It's not something you see on everyone else's menu, so it helps us stand out," he said. "It's popular with our guests. Our work becomes more interesting by virtue of having this product, and you can't put a price on that. There's really nothing that I don't like about it, except that it's expensive."
How much? "It's nearly twice as much as a pig the same size," said Russo. "But once you start tasting the stuff, it's worth every penny."
Nothing goes to waste
Unlike the vast majority of Twin Cities restaurants, Heartland is a true snout-to-hoof operation -- nothing goes to waste -- and Russo's use of the Fogels' Russian wild boar plays that out. The animals, which tip the scales at between 125 and 175 pounds, come from the processor (a small family-owned operation in Eyota, Minn., about 40 miles from the Fogels' ranch). They arrive in four to six pieces, making it easier to store, and more convenient to deal with, than a whole boar.
Most of the animal is reserved for chops and roasts. The liver becomes braunschweiger and the kidneys end up in cassoulet -- or the organs are marinated and grilled. The tongue gets pickled, the head becomes head cheese, and the legs make a long, steady climb toward prosciutto. "The only thing we don't use is the oink," said Russo with a laugh.
Another Twin Cities source: Cooks of Crocus Hill, where co-owner Karl Benson reserves a small allotment for its crop-share program.
"It's exactly what we like, which is when a quality product aligns with a great story," he said. "Besides, doesn't 'Russian wild boar' sound really cool? And it tastes good, too. It's that simple."
Still, the Fogels sell the lion's share of their inventory through their website, and the Web's immediacy has proven to be a game-changer. Pre-Internet, the family would try to sell surplus product through brokers, not always with success. Now Nicole sends an e-mail blast to their 12,000 subscribers, and the orders flood in; an average week can see shipments to hundreds of customers nationwide, with no middlemen taking their cut.
"The Internet has changed the whole way we do business," said Mike. "We wouldn't be here today without it."
The ranch, located in the state's southeastern corner, lies in the wooded crook of a winding, narrow valley, a picturesque shock from the dully undulating plains that motorists experience while zipping along Interstate 90. The Fogels' 250-head buffalo herd grazes on the fields above; a nearby community of Catholic nuns, living in silence, adds a spiritual element to the windswept landscape. Down below, a weathered red barn is surrounded by an unusual sight: a ring of tall concrete slabs, the kind usually associated with airport anti-terrorism defenses.
It's actually a concentric pair of walls, and they comprise the half-dozen neat-as-a-pin pens that the Russian wild boars call home.
"They're intelligent problem-solvers, they're very athletic -- they can leap over low fences -- and they're survivors. They'll eat anything," said Valerie.
Which explains why these animals have been decried in state capitols; they slip from domesticated to feral in a flash, and can wreak havoc when left to their own devices and allowed to multiply. No wonder security, which is tighter than your average correctional facility, has become second nature to the Fogels. "Lenny pays almost $500 a pig," said Mike. "For that price, you think we're going to let them run wild?"
(By the way, how can the word "wild" be invoked if the animal is farm-raised? Russo uses "wild" on his menu, despite the animals being farm-raised. "You can still call a wolf a wolf, even if it's raised in the house," he said with a laugh.)
The high-metabolism animals eat very well, feasting on corncobs, high-moisture hay, oat pellets and other roughage. The diet is supplemented by produce raised by the Fogels' farmer friends, who trade their surplus crops -- apples and pumpkins were a huge hit during my October visit -- for the ranch's meat.
The Fogels are beginning to cross breeds, in an effort to expand their product line. Their Russian wild boar herd, which hovers around 100, is closed -- all animals are bred on the premises -- and males and females are raised separately. Males live about 18 months before they are slaughtered -- longer than an average pig, which is one reason why the animal commands a higher price. The breeding gals are kept around for several years, enjoying life in the barn, listening to country music and watching over their little ones, which, as they scamper underfoot, suggest major adorable-pet potential. One look at the reality of their Jabba the Hutt-like mothers will rid even the softest-hearted of that notion.
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By Rick Nelson, Star Tribune, January 6, 2011
I'll be honest: The words "Give Mama a kiss" were not what I was expecting to hear from rancher Valerie Shannon.
At least not at that moment. She was leaning over a wall and puckering up for an unlikely object of affection. He answers to the name of Lloydie, and he's a 300-pound Russian wild boar, complete with a bruising heft, primordial snout, an impressive pair of tusks, a coat of espresso-colored bristles and an enthusiastic snort.
"All pigs are derived from the Russian boar," said Mike Fogel, owner of the Money Creek Buffalo Ranch. "They are the original prehistoric pig."
He ought to know. Mike has been carefully raising Russian wild boar, as well as buffalo and Highland cattle, for 35 years. He and his hard-working family -- the crew includes daughter Nicole and son Derek -- are the last source for wild boar in the state, if not the Midwest. Restricted-species legislation has all but quashed the Russian wild boar in this part of the country; the Fogels' operation was grandfathered in and, should they ever stop, that will spell the end of this incredible animal for Minnesota diners.
As it is, it's a select group of fortunate humans who are able to experience the flavorful glory that is the locally raised Russian wild boar. Lenny Russo, chef/co-owner of Heartland Restaurant & Farm Direct Market in St. Paul, is the Fogels' longest and steadiest Twin Cities customer. He's been buying for eight years.
"I don't know that we've ever been so welcomed by a chef," said Valerie.
"For him, price is not the issue. It's 'How are they raised?' and 'What are they fed?'"
Such are the queries for the flavor- and quality-obsessed. Russian wild boar are much leaner than their standard-issue domesticated pig brethren, but their meat is far richer. "I don't want to use the word 'gamey,'" said Russo. "It has a feral quality that other pigs just don't have. Let me put it this way: When you taste it, you can tell exactly what it is."
Mike Fogel shorthands it: "It's what pork used to taste like."
Flavor isn't the only draw, at least not for Russo. "It's not something you see on everyone else's menu, so it helps us stand out," he said. "It's popular with our guests. Our work becomes more interesting by virtue of having this product, and you can't put a price on that. There's really nothing that I don't like about it, except that it's expensive."
How much? "It's nearly twice as much as a pig the same size," said Russo. "But once you start tasting the stuff, it's worth every penny."
Nothing goes to waste
Unlike the vast majority of Twin Cities restaurants, Heartland is a true snout-to-hoof operation -- nothing goes to waste -- and Russo's use of the Fogels' Russian wild boar plays that out. The animals, which tip the scales at between 125 and 175 pounds, come from the processor (a small family-owned operation in Eyota, Minn., about 40 miles from the Fogels' ranch). They arrive in four to six pieces, making it easier to store, and more convenient to deal with, than a whole boar.
Most of the animal is reserved for chops and roasts. The liver becomes braunschweiger and the kidneys end up in cassoulet -- or the organs are marinated and grilled. The tongue gets pickled, the head becomes head cheese, and the legs make a long, steady climb toward prosciutto. "The only thing we don't use is the oink," said Russo with a laugh.
Another Twin Cities source: Cooks of Crocus Hill, where co-owner Karl Benson reserves a small allotment for its crop-share program.
"It's exactly what we like, which is when a quality product aligns with a great story," he said. "Besides, doesn't 'Russian wild boar' sound really cool? And it tastes good, too. It's that simple."
Still, the Fogels sell the lion's share of their inventory through their website, and the Web's immediacy has proven to be a game-changer. Pre-Internet, the family would try to sell surplus product through brokers, not always with success. Now Nicole sends an e-mail blast to their 12,000 subscribers, and the orders flood in; an average week can see shipments to hundreds of customers nationwide, with no middlemen taking their cut.
"The Internet has changed the whole way we do business," said Mike. "We wouldn't be here today without it."
The ranch, located in the state's southeastern corner, lies in the wooded crook of a winding, narrow valley, a picturesque shock from the dully undulating plains that motorists experience while zipping along Interstate 90. The Fogels' 250-head buffalo herd grazes on the fields above; a nearby community of Catholic nuns, living in silence, adds a spiritual element to the windswept landscape. Down below, a weathered red barn is surrounded by an unusual sight: a ring of tall concrete slabs, the kind usually associated with airport anti-terrorism defenses.
It's actually a concentric pair of walls, and they comprise the half-dozen neat-as-a-pin pens that the Russian wild boars call home.
"They're intelligent problem-solvers, they're very athletic -- they can leap over low fences -- and they're survivors. They'll eat anything," said Valerie.
Which explains why these animals have been decried in state capitols; they slip from domesticated to feral in a flash, and can wreak havoc when left to their own devices and allowed to multiply. No wonder security, which is tighter than your average correctional facility, has become second nature to the Fogels. "Lenny pays almost $500 a pig," said Mike. "For that price, you think we're going to let them run wild?"
(By the way, how can the word "wild" be invoked if the animal is farm-raised? Russo uses "wild" on his menu, despite the animals being farm-raised. "You can still call a wolf a wolf, even if it's raised in the house," he said with a laugh.)
The high-metabolism animals eat very well, feasting on corncobs, high-moisture hay, oat pellets and other roughage. The diet is supplemented by produce raised by the Fogels' farmer friends, who trade their surplus crops -- apples and pumpkins were a huge hit during my October visit -- for the ranch's meat.
The Fogels are beginning to cross breeds, in an effort to expand their product line. Their Russian wild boar herd, which hovers around 100, is closed -- all animals are bred on the premises -- and males and females are raised separately. Males live about 18 months before they are slaughtered -- longer than an average pig, which is one reason why the animal commands a higher price. The breeding gals are kept around for several years, enjoying life in the barn, listening to country music and watching over their little ones, which, as they scamper underfoot, suggest major adorable-pet potential. One look at the reality of their Jabba the Hutt-like mothers will rid even the softest-hearted of that notion.
After delivering three or four litters, the sows become sources for bacon. That bacon -- correction, that amazing, life-changing bacon, a bargain at $14.95 per pound -- is so popular that the Fogels can't keep it in stock. "We don't even eat it ourselves. We save it for sale, that's how popular it is," said Valerie. "Keeping this breed going, that's a legacy that we'd like."
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