introducing sous farmer chef francois

When I first moved down here, it was originally because of a hot lead from brent the butcher, partner behind brooklyn’s the meat hook.  he had said a guy he used to work with at marlow and sons had moved down to athens, georgia--and with a kind off odd smile (which I now can understand)--he said, “and they’re doing a lot of cool stuff.”  the odd smile no doubt referring to the tentacle like, farm fueled behemoth that is our farm's family—two nationally known and talked about restaurants, a local coffee roaster and coffee bar, both a vegetable and meat csa for the local community, and a regional network of small scale, sustainable, and humane meat producers.  from the first time i heard about it, i knew i needed to know more...

and so, a year later, and a year after meeting and befriending this ex-brooklynite, ex-marlow cook, I realized it’s time for ya’ll to meet him a little more intimately.  for those who read the blog already, you are well aware of chef François’ rogue like behavior in regards to the way he handles our pigs.  in addition to being sous chef at farm255, François was also the first chef to man the delicious mobile and much loved farm cart, which includes designing the original menus.  

going forward, intermixed with my life on the farm, you will start hearing words from François’ very own brain, on what it’s like to keep one foot in the kitchen, and the other in the field.

i guess it might be love.

by: francois

love of the fraternal kind.  love and compassion.  Love and compassion for a seven hundred pound boar named Elroy.  He and I bonded, as kindred spirits do, and I stayed.  Without him, would I still be here?  Probably, but i just can’t know for sure.

I originally came to Georgia for a four-week intensive kitchen/farm experience.  The farm-to-table restaurants that I had been working at in New York City weren’t cutting the mustard, as they say.  I wanted an experience that would be more complete.  I wanted to bridge the gap between farm and table.  and even further, I wanted to bridge the gap before farm and after table. on the front end think about things like seeds/soil/animal husbandry.  or in my case, think cheering on Elroy as he mounted a sow in heat.  and on the back end, after table, think regional coops/education/composting/recycling.  I wanted the whole enchilada.  I wanted to reconnect with the earth I once worked growing up on a commune, eating the vegetables that we grew--hands and feet dirty with the rich soil of the Pacific Northwest.  you just cant find that in the city, no matter how well sourced any given restaurant may be.

I came down here for four weeks—that was almost two years ago.    My life as a farmer and Sous-Chef has given me many things.  to work pigs, or move cattle, or harvest okra on any given morning—getting my hands in the dirt--and being in the kitchen on any given night-- trying hard to exist within the vagaries of the Southern seasons—has proven to be a rewarding and beautiful thing. 

and lastly, but certainly not leastly, and never to slight elroy, I’ve connected with another kindred spirit in the form of Jerry.¹  Another believer, another worker, another gourmand, another farmer.  I only wish that Jerry could have met Elroy, so that the three of us would have had a chance to eat cheeseburgers together.    Just two young Yankee farmers, and a wise old Dixie boar, having lunch and marveling at the changing of the seasons.

1.  a play on the hilarious fact that her spanish speaking grandparents can't actually pronounce my name.