And so my Eating Canada Tour ends as my book began, by serendipitously running into farmer David Greenberg in Wolfville, Nova Scotia.
Three years ago, my partner Nancy, and I were lunching at The Tempest in this small university town, gobbling up his Greenberg Greens and wondering, how does one grow salad greens this delicious? By happenstance, David was dropping off a delivery of his delicious greens. Chef Michael Howell introduced us. David invited us to his tiny farm and, while standing in a field munching on one of his “electric” carrots, the lightning bolt struck - I would write a book about farmers like David, the new producers who are challenging the “truisms” factory farming had force fed us these past few decades. Right then and right there in David’s carrot patch, I decided I would travel across Canada writing about a different kind of farmer, the new chefs of the soil, visionary philosophers and spiritual zealots who are forsaking industrial farming to put taste and nutrition back into our food.
This time, David and I ran into each other in front of a bookstore - apropos, I suppose, given my book was now out. We made a quick tour of the farmers’ market then grabbed a coffee, where David told me that he had moved onto another farm and was busy planning a gathering for like-minded farmers who are bonding around the issue of local foods. When David first hatched the idea, he thought 50 or might come out for the weekend of informal talks and socializing. He was overwhelmed with responses from across Nova Scotia - from new farmers, organic farmers, farmers converting to better growing techniques and back-to-the-land types. Now he expected a few hundred to show up for the first annual farm stock.
On my last day in Nova Scotia, I also returned to the beginning of my book, to lunch at the Tempest. Since I first met Chef Michael Howell (and lamented the fact that I could not buy a sustainable scallop in Nova Scotia), Michael has made a commitment to serving only sustainable seafood. That means no wild scallops, which are fished by dragging, a practice that rips up the ocean floor. He now serves farmed scallops, some raised by the scallop farmer I wrote about in my Nova Scotia chapter, Duncan Bates.
This trip, Michael played hooky from the kitchen to introduce me to another group of farmers in the nearby Gaspereau Valley who are contributing to an exciting renaissance of agriculture here.
Bruce Ewert left a good career as a winemaker in the Okanagan to set up L’Acadie Vineyard. Across the valley, Gerry McConnell, CEO of Etruscan Resources Inc, lured Ontario wine consultant Peter Gamble and sparkling wine guru Raphael Brisbois to help him launch the Benjamin Bridge Vineyards.
Both vineyards are organic. And the two wineries have another thing in common: They’re convinced that the tiny valley, which runs inland of the Annapolis Valley, has an ideal microclimate for producing world-class sparkling wines. The late springs, short but warm summers, and long falls produce grapes with a high acidity, low crop yield and good concentrations of fruit, even in grapes that don’t fully ripen.
The tiny Nova Scotia wine industry - with just 320 acres under cultivation and 10 wineries - is in need of a major boost of attention, and these two wineries are determined to deliver it.
I whiled away the last afternoon on my book tour sipping L’Acadie blanc, Nova Scotia’s signature grape. In the hands of many winemakers here, the French hybrid can be a featherweight, but Bruce Ewert teases out depth and an impressive finish. And I loved his sparkling L’Acadie, a soft, elegant sipper.
Over at Ben Bridges, we sampled the elements they’re testing for their final sparkling blend, a pinot noir and a chardonnay sparkler, that will join vidal, seyval blanc and l’Acadie in a mix that will sell in the $50 to $60 a bottle range. Yes, that’s for a sparkling wine made in Nova Scotia, and from both vinifera and hybrid grapes.
As if to defy naysayers, the winery will release Nova, a blend of five whites, July 1st, selling for around $25 a bottle. This is an off-dry that packs bushels of flavour, yet remains refreshing and bright. Rather than food for this slightly sweet, aperitif-style wine, Michael suggested a table on a patio and a late-afternoon sun as the perfect accompaniment.
At this point, I was thinking a hammock, but never mind. I had been on the road (or rather train) for a month yakking nonstop about farming, and now it was time to go home.
But this last stop definitely answered the question so many people had asked me along the way: Am I optimistic the renaissance in Canadian agriculture will continue? After returning to where my research started, I will say this: the future looks delicious.
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