Small Town America

Small Town America

This past summer, I decided to pull up stakes in Portland and move closer to my chosen field in the wine industry. I found a very affordable house within a mile of historic downtown McMinnville. It wasn't just the commute that was pulling me away from Portland. Somehow the Hipster Disneyland of the U.S. had lost its appeal, or maybe I just wasn't cool enough. I was frustrated by the quagmire of traffic, compounded by the bad manners of cyclists, but also by a slow disintegration of the city's soul. Having moved to Portland in 2008, I'm sure I was part of this slide; regardless, it felt like a good time to move.

I also found it interesting that a friend moved back south to Athens, Georgia, and another acquaintance moved back east, outside of Burlington, VT.  Two years prior, a friend moved to Telluride, Colorado. There was also a move to London and Lausanne, Switzerland, but those are outliers in this discussion. It seems to me there's a trend to move to small town America. The children of Suburban America, who grew up in strip malls and sprawl, we yearned for a sense of place, an ease of public transportation and food that was made with intention. But once we got there, we we missed the affordability of a home with a porch and with neighbors and friends close by. Where we didn't have to wait 2 hours for Sunday brunch or snarled in traffic to get to your friends' houses that lived on the outside of the other side of town. We wanted both. The answer is in small town America.

After retuning from the holidays in the South, where I visited Charleston, Atlanta and Athens, I found  a kinship between the large cities and small towns of the South and the Pacific Northwest. An argument could certainly be made for small towns outside of those two regions, but I have no authority to speak to those.

McMinnville, Oregon, naturally enough, was named for McMinnville, Tennessee (population 13,620)Linfield College. I am lucky enough to live close by and enjoy the lovely campus, which hosts our wine industry's annual International Pinot Noir Celebration (IPNC).

Linfield College's IPNC

by William T. Newby after his hometown in the South. He also later donated the land for the local institution of learning, McMinnville College, which was later named

McMinnville, Tennessee: McMinnville, like many smaller American cities and towns, has gone through a revitalization of its downtown area. "Main Street McMinnville" serves as the city's non-profit revitalization organization funded by the National Trust for Historic Preservation and Tennessee's own Main Street Program.^{[10] (Wikipedia)}

McMinnville, Oregon: In the days of strip malls and big box stores, there is a place within the heart of Oregon wine country where the 1800s meets the 21st Century. While in communities around Oregon historic downtowns are struggling, along East 3rd Street in McMinnville, the downtown isn’t just surviving, but flourishing. (Oregon.Com)

Community Plate's Lavender Latte

As I was driving to Athens, GA, from Atlanta, I was struck by the similarities of the drive from Portland to McMinnville. The miles of sprawl outside the city, the traffic signals becoming slightly farther apart until they disappear altogether. Then there's just farmland and forests and the feeling that life is slowing down and becoming somehow easier. Now Athens is a college town and McMinnville is more like a wine town, an infant Napa or Sonoma. But they both have great downtowns with good food, drinks, shopping and an ease of walkability. The brick architecture and the craftsman, bungalow style homes echo each other. I enjoy good craft beer, breakfast, coffee, cocktails, food in both places. Athens takes a point for best breakfast and McMinnville takes a point for best coffee and wine lists. The Pacific Northwest has outstanding breakfasts, but it just can't beat the South. No grits? No fluffy biscuit? No cigar. If we could just combine the power of The Community Plate's Lavender Latte in McMinnville and the allure of the biscuit and Bird's Nest of Big City Bread. 

BIRD’S NEST 4.00
FRIED EGG IN SLICE OF SOURDOUGH TOAST WITH FRESH HERBS & GRUYERE CHEESE 

Big City Bread's Bird's Nest

As I was looking for information on the McMinnville's, I came across this Parade Magazine contest for best Main Streets in America. The winner was in Tennessee, the runner up was McMinnville, Oregon. You can't make that up! Even Parade Magazine sees a correlation between small towns in the south and in the Pacific Northwest. Congratulations to winner Collierville, TN, located outside of Memphis and my new hometown Finalist, located 35 miles south of Portland. 

My next correlation comes from McMinnville's annual UFO festival. It's the second largest one, falling behind Roswell, NM. 

The festival began as a way to honor the famous 1950 Trent sighting in which two local citizens witnessed and photographed a UFO, said to be some of the most credible images of UFOs to date.

Here's the complete history of the UFO sighting, but basically a woman went out to feed the chickens and saw a flying saucer. She ran back to the house, yelling for her husband to get a camera. Now, we Southerners know about the stereotypical perception Yankees have about us with regards to aliens. Nothing supports this more than this absurdly hilarious Yahoo! questions comment:

Anyone notice the uneducated south are the only ones who see UFOs?
I was reading about yet another UFO sighting in the south. Us in the north LOVE these stories because it blatantly points out the education difference between the north and south. One guy was quoted as saying: "You hear about big bass or big buck in the area, but this is a different deal" That's HILARIOUS! All they know is huntin' an' fishin'. It's amazing how backwards and uneducated they are! Agree or disagree? 

I strongly urge you to go the link and see how and who agreed or disagreed. But my point has been made. I think I searched Google for "aliens South believe" and that link came up in the top 5. Folks out here in small town, rural Oregon are pretty darn into huntin' and fishin' and spotting them UFOs too. I can't wait for my first UFO days in McMinnville this summer! And I guess I'll fit right in.

Southern AND Sustainable?!

I first heard of Dan Barber's book The Third Plate on NPR the other day. The fact that Southern food was singled out as the only truly sustainable American way of farming and eating was exciting. No, not the Foodtopia and epicenter of sustainable everything in the Pacific Northwest. Yes, The South. I have yet to see Hoppin' John on a menu west of the Mississippi.

In the American South, it was beans, collards and some ham. "In a dish, you had everything that supported that ecology," he says.

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A view of Dan Barber's Stone Barns Center field and barns in Pocantico Hills, N.Y.

Nicole Franzen/Courtesy of Blue Hill Farm

But American tradition has fallen out of touch with the land. "There's no cuisine you can point to that has a 12-ounce center cut protein for dinner. ... That is an American phenomenon," Barber says

From an article in The Atlantic, I read Dan Barber's explanation of how farm-to-table practices in America aren't enough to be truly sustainable. The only place within the United States that has actually had a cuisine that fit the ecology of place was in the South.

That meat-centric plate is a great disservice to our soil, and to our ecology. It’s also a disservice to the rest of the world—because we’re exporting that model in a way that, in the truest sense of the word, is unsustainable. But we can find an alternative—what I came to call the Third Plate.

You find that in Southern cuisine, too. Hoppin’ John—a quintessential southern dish—is rice, but it’s also cowpeas. That leguminous crop was so important in the south, because it allowed the southerners to preserve their soil well enough to get them rice. Then, they mixed in collard greens, because collards helped desalinate the soil. (And some bacon, because pigs were also part of the agriculture.)

Last weekend I read a review of the book in the WSJ in Eugenia Bone's article "The Future of American Eating." Of course, it being a newspaper based in New York (damn Yankees), it doesn't mention this Southern connection. But what he does mention relates to my life in wine country. In the first of four sections in the book, "Soil"

Explores how some farming practices deplete the soil of nutrients by killing microbes and how others build healthy soil by feeding microbes. He compares industrial versus organic approaches to weed control and explains the role of grazing animals in soil health. 'How soil is managed,' writes Mr. Barber, 'and how a farmer negotiates weeds and pests, is the single best predictor of how food will taste.'

I've recently started a new job at Omero Cellar's in Carlton, Oregon, and I interviewed our new winemaker, Mr. Chad Stock about his winemaking philosophy in order to write a press release. What he said deeply related to what Mr. Barber is saying.

Stock explains that transparent winemaking, “allows wines to speak for themselves in a pure and true fashion. Pinot noir is all about nuance and it’s extremely adept at showing the subtleties of place.  Personal style preferences and winemaking additives blur the natural expression of the vineyard.“

Organic, and more importantly, biodynamic principles are important to Stock and the trajectory of Omero wines. He clarifies the joint importance of farming organically and implementing biodynamic principles in the vineyard and winery: “A vineyard is above and below the earth, so we want to farm the soil. We seek to show the significance in soil types and express the soil differences in the Willamette Valley. I’ll show you what your vineyard tastes like.”

By working without additives, using organic and biodynamic principles, Stock and Omero seek to create wines with distinctive character, authenticity and aromatic complexity.

While I am relatively new to the biodynamic farming and winemaking philosophy, I'm really eager to learn more. Like the John Muir quote that originally inspired Barber,  I find that everything is connected, from ideas to dirt:

When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.

How do you stand the rainy winter months?

Gorgeous Oregon, but kind of Mordor

It's not the rain it's the darkness. That's what I always tell folks who ask me about the hardest part of Oregon's winter. Even if we had a full day of sunshine, the shortest day of the year in Portland, Oregon, is a almost an hour and a quarter shorter than Charleston, South Carolina.

Having just returned from a week in the Lowcountry, I'm more cognizant of this than ever. Having an entire week of longer days at the darkest time of the year is one of the best parts of traveling east for the holidays.

I recently read an article from Garden and Gun magazine about an artist— Fireworks: Betsy Eby's blowtorched canvases evoke the rhythm and flow of nature. As I'm always looking for connections between The South and The Pacific Northwest, I was delighted to read that Eby hails from Oregon and now lives in Columbus, Georgia. She's quoted in the article as saying, "The difference in the light is so extreme from the Pacific Northwest…It's so abundant and warm here. There's more information in the light…Being in the South allows me to split those hairs of color."

I can't say that I wholly agree with her assessment about there being more information in the light, but I can agree to the extremes in differences. Both entice me to wonder at the nuances of nature and revel in the joys of color and form of the great outdoors.

Lowcountry winter light

Oregon in winter time is muted, brooding and mysterious. Some days it can feel as if time stands still. There's no apparent difference between eleven AM and four PM. It's easy to forget oneself in the muffled, indistinct light. Because the day only lasts about 8 hours in the winter, this light is precious and indoor lighting, colors and spaces perhaps have more detail and attention paid than in The South.


The scarcity of light and the vicissitudes of the sky make me more attuned to the light in Oregon. I love watching the weather patterns shift atop one of the highest hills in Oregon wine country, just outside Dundee. Recently in the winter months, I've emerged from a sea of fog and cloud to see a dazzling blue bird sky. I can later watch little tufts of cloud skirting across the tree line and hovering over the vineyards. The tasting room can be totally shrouded in a thin layer of cloud, only to have the blazing bright sun illuminate it from behind. It's as if an alien spaceship has set its sights on us. It feels as if we're about to be beamed into a wormhole to another dimension. I've never seen light like that.

I think I can appreciate the light in The South so much more now after living in the Pacific Northwest. Perhaps that's what Eby is trying to say. But she's a native Oregonian living in Georgia, and I grew up in Georgia and am living in Oregon.  It's not the rain; it's the light.