| GoTo Greens
How one
By Paula
|
| November 17, 1999 |
|
SEVEN DAYS
P.O. Box 1164 255 So. Champlain St Burlington, Vermont 05402-1164 USA (802) 864-5684 sevenday@together.net |
It’s easier to find Gourmet Greens on the
Internet than on Dodge Road in Chester.
No sign adorns the front of the modest
brown building and adjoining greenhouse
where 800 pounds of “greens” are
grown, harvested and shipped a week.
Owner Rich Rommer wants to keep it
that way. “There is a lot of extra
work involved in retail. I don’t want to
have a store here. I’m a farmer.”
If you’re picturing an old guy in overalls
and rubber boots, rub your eyes.
Rommer is a 50-year-old graduate of the
Hippocrates Health Institute in Boston
who tends his crops in a T-shirt and
Birkenstocks. He grows four products,
year-round, without ever having to go
outdoors. His soil-grown sunflower,
radish and snow pea greens get shipped
twice weekly to stores as far as
Maryland. You can find them at local
health-food stores and co-ops. Gourmet
Greens also grows wheatgrass — the
chlorophyll-rich “nutriceutical” thought to
eliminate toxins as you drink it.
The future of farming in Vermont may
end up looking a lot like this: smart,
specialized operations catering to people
who will pay for certified organic.
Reaching enough of those people of
course, has always been the challenge for
far-flung growers. The Internet now
allows virtual Vermont cultivators to
reach their customers directly, and to sell
them related products online. In addition
to sprouts, seed and soil, Gourmet
Greens’ Web site brokers new and used
juicers that range in price from $89 to
$560. Sales of online merch have
improved the bottom line for Rommer,
who estimates he will gross about
$230,000 this year.
On a drab November day, the brilliant
green shoots are a welcome contrast,
maturing under grow-lights in flats about
the size of industrial baking trays. Seven
days after planting, they are ready to
harvest. With a straight-edged razor
blade, and the dexterity of a
cosmetologist, Virginia Brown slices off
the plants about three-quarters of an inch
above the soil line, and stacks them in a
rubber basin, sending the root-filled soil
back to the compost. It’s a
labor-intensive process because no
sharp-edged instrument has yet been
developed to mechanize the shearing.
And harvesting is the easy part compared
to seeding, watering and composting the
organic soil, which Rommer also sells
over the Internet.
But the effort pays off. Like most things
in small, plastic packages, specialized
salad greens command a good price.
Rommer gets between $5 and $8 per
pound from wholesalers. Retail
customers — who e-mail their orders
online and receive them by next-day air
— shellout $35 for the first pound, most
of which pays for shipping. “I thought I
wa 1s going to grow a little bit of
everything — carrots, lettuce and all
those other things. I soon realized there is
very little money in those things, because
you are competing against agribusiness,”
Rommer says. Large producers tend to
stay away from sprouts, he says, because
they require so much individual attention.
“If you are a farmer out in the middle of
nowhere, like most of the farmers in
Vermont are, this could be very viable,”
says Lindsey Ketchel at the Vermont
Department of Agriculture. She describes
Gourmet Greens as an “incredibly
innovative and creative solution” to the
challenging problem of sustaining
small-scale agriculture in the state. “How
would you like to be a dairy farmer with
the USDA telling you how much you can
get per hundredweight?” she suggests for
comparison. “Farmers have to get a fair
price for their product, and have control
over their market, to succeed.”
One thing Rommer does not have control
over is ever-tightening health regulations
— the result of increasing national
concern about food safety in the wake of
numerous foodborne illnesses. Sprouts
have come under increasing scrutiny since
a number of people got sick, presumably
from contaminated sprout seed, in
outbreaks in California, according to an
article in the trade publication Growing
For Market. The culprits were thought to
be hydroponic alfalfa sprouts, which are
cultivated in warm, bacteria-friendly
water. They are more likely to cause
illness, in part because it is virtually
impossible to separate the seed from the
sprout.
“Soil-grown sprouts such as wheatgrass,
sunflower sprouts and pea shoots have
not been implicated in any contamination
cases,” the article continues, “but it
appears so far that they will be subject to
the same regulatory action as the
water-grown sprouts.”
Earlier this year the parents of a sickened
child filed suit against a hydroponic
grower in Oregon. Around the same
time, Rommer decided to disassociate
himself from the aquatic side of the
industry by substituting the word “greens”
for “sprouts.”
But getting around the regs is a bit more
involved than changing the language on
labels. The Food and Drug
Administration now requires alfalfa sprout
growers to soak their seeds in a 2
percent chlorine solution for 10 minutes
before planting. Seed suppliers require a
signed affidavit from growers, promising
they will follow the disinfecting
procedure. The same practice is
“recommended” for soil-grown
cultivators like Rommer. But “we
wouldn’t be certified organic if we used
that hazardous chemical,” he points out.
An added irony is that chlorine is a
known carcinogen. Health-conscious
wheatgrass buyers are not likely to
appreciate the deadly marinade.
Rommer has instituted some improved
safety measures on his own, including
better seed storage containers and
improved “traceability” in the event of a
recall. He also tests every new seed
shipment by sending the resulting greens
to a lab to certify they are free of
pathogens. The relationship between
growers and regulators doesn’t have to
be contentious, he says. “They are trying
to ensure the safety of the food supply.
They should be there, just like troopers
on the interstate are there to keep
speeders under control. I don’t have a
problem with that.”
But Rommer does have a problem with
greens being singled out for scrutiny —
operations like his are “more like a dirt
farm…I think if they are going to require
people like us, who grow greens in soil,
to soak seed in chlorine, they should also
require Swiss chard, lettuce and mesclun
growers to soak their seed, too, even out
in the open field.” Rommer does
recommend washing his greens, as you
would lettuce or any other salad stuff.
And his sunflower greens come with a
warning: “Remove any seed hulls before
eating.”
Rommer keeps close watch over his own
growing operation, overseeing every
stage of the process from seeding to
shipping. It’s an organic cycle that plays
itself out every day. Most of the heavy
lifting is done by noon. While part-time
workers bustle between buckets of
soaking seed and bags of freshly
harvested radish greens, Rommer is just
as likely to be showing off the company
Web site as tending to the furnace, which
burns oil and wood.
Employees approach Rommer with every
imaginable question. Only one worker,
Virginia, seems sufficiently self-reliant to
cover for the boss. A teenage boy, Nick,
oversees the composting operation,
which takes up a large portion of the
greenhouse. A home-schooler, he is
getting an excellent hands-on lesson in
microbiology and horticulture, tending to
numerous wooden bins in various stages of
decomposition.
Nick is also the sole worker to turn down
a couple ounces of free wheatgrass juice
during the mid-morning break — a
company ritual, apparently, that suggests
Rommer really does believe in his
product. In fact, Rommer was still pretty
young when he first experienced the
benefits of good nutrition. At 18, he went
to the doctor with a severe case of acne,
and was told to stop eating certain foods.
“I avoided those and it did clear up my
face,” he says. “So I saw the
connection.”
He saw the connection again when he
came back from Europe, buff and healthy
after eating vegetarian for several months,
and resumed an American diet of
hamburgers and cookies. “My face
broke out, I gained weight, and I said,
‘Hey, I don’t want to lose this health that
I came upon by accident.’”
Someone suggested he check out a
nearby health food store in suburban
New York City, and he picked up a
95-cent paperback titled, How to be
Healthy With Natural Foods. Says
Rommer, “I just kept on reading.”
That interest led him to read and later
work for wheatgrass guru Anne
Wigmore, who was advocating a “live
food diet” in Boston, and later, to an
organic farm in upstate New York. He
spent six years gardening — and making
wheatgrass concoctions — for a wealthy
woman in Rochester. It was there, 18
years ago, that he started the greens
business. Rommer’s Vermont-born wife,
Kathy, convinced him to move it to
Chester, midway between White River
Junction and Brattleboro, in 1986.
Although some might find Rommer’s
views on the harsh side — he won’t hire
smokers, for example, and is very much
down on dairy — he still practices what
he plants. “We are able to make a living,
without sacrificing our lifestyle, in
Vermont,” he says, pressing the fresh
green blades through a company juicer
until the pulp spirals out like a fibrous
emerald turd. Administered like a dose of
Nyquil, the liquid tastes like lawn
clippings mixed with sugar, with a slightly
medicinal aftertaste.
They go through about three pounds a
day at Liquid Energy — juice capital of
Burlington, on the Church Street
Marketplace. Rommer was the only local
source of wheatgrass, until he trained a
farmer in Fair Haven to grow enough to
supply the cafe. “I’ve learned over the
years that when you give, it comes back,”
Rommer suggests. No one provides
more convincing proof that you can reap
what you sow. •
For more information about Gourmet
Greens, or to order online, check out
the website at
www.gourmetgreens.com. Or call
802 875-3820.
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