Moon Dog Farms

Certified Naturally Grown family farm growing fruits, vegetables & flowers in the Texas Gulf Coast

MoonDog Farms is dedicated to stewardship of the land, reinforcing a healthy community and producing great food.  

Filtering by Tag: Galveston

Texting With The Coastal Classic

Walls of white fog are certainly full of ambiance. And yet, while quite reminiscent of Wuthering Heights and other wind-torn romances, they can put a real cramp in your farming style.

While crouched over the steering wheel like a myopic old granny, we drove from the farm to the farmer's market last Sunday in what amounted to the pea-soupiest of foggy mornings. We had hoped then that the moisture would abate by the start of the week. It didn't.

I never liked Wuthering Heights anyway.

So it is that I find myself in front of the computer, juggling emails, taxes and website revisions with close to zero news to report about the actual farm. You know, that plot of dirt with plants stuck in it.

Truth is, we haven't been able to get out and play in the dirt and plants most of this week...rain and more rain has left a sticky, goopy mess, forcing us to find tasks more suited to the weather. What blather was I left to share?

Then, from the ether, came our one saving grace. In the form of a text message.

(You knew that 21st Century miracles come with a electronic chime and can be scrolled with the thumb, right?)

The new chef for the Pelican Club at Gaido's restaurant in Galveston, Ross Warhol, sent me a little thank-you note for the produce we'd sold him a few days prior. Baby carrots, kale, meyer lemons and flowered bok choy had all been transformed into various epicurean wonders.

Baby carrots harvested early in the morning to be served for dinner as a Pelican Club special preview later that night.

Baby carrots harvested early in the morning to be served for dinner as a Pelican Club special preview later that night.

Ross is new to the island, brought down from the hinterlands of New York to jazz up the historic Pelican Club with his sizable skills and devotion to farm-fresh ingredients. He contacted us several weeks ago, looking to start a working friendship between He Who Cooks and They Who Grow.  

Obviously, we were delighted.

Gaido's is a revered institution on the island, run by folks who clearly support their community— not to mention they serve a mean redfish. (And a fresh one at that.)

As small organic farmers in the very same community, we seek to work alongside any who share our reverence for good food, served well and served responsibly. Their added shot of class is just a bonus for us. :)

And the sentiment that sent me over the edge? In describing a beet salad he made using our bok choy and carrots, Chef Warhol declared,

“ ...I love that I was able to keep the tap roots on while cleaning/ cooking them, it's like they are waving at you and saying, 'Hello, look at me!' "


Could you expect me NOT to fall in love with the guy who makes that spectacular food and then talks about its spectacularity like that?”

I'm in favor of anyone who loves to play with good food as much as we do. So “Huzzah!” to Chef Ross Warhol, “Hear Hear!” to the entire team at Gaido's, and “Yay!” to all the individuals (that means you, dear reader) who support the whole endeavor, whether you hanker for bok choy flowers or not.

So go on and hustle over to Gaido's for the Pelican Club weekend specials. The Club re-opens officially April 16th, but I hear the food is already pretty tasty. Must be that chef who talks to his carrots.  

To Galvestonia!

This past weekend reaffirmed my faith. My faith in the market.

And no, I'm not talking about Jesus or the dudes in dorky jackets shouting on Wall Street--although who am I to deny them thanks for  the fantastic weekend we had? 

What I'm really talking about is GALVESTON.

Glorious, shrimp and sand-filled Galveston. Leathery with suntan, crawling with lost-looking cruiseshippers, and peppered with the neon pinks and yellows of Islander art Galveston.

I'd say these are bright enough to qualify as Island Art.

This past Sunday was our first appearance at the Galveston's Own Farmer's Market, and it was an unmitigated success. Truly, it was better than we could have hoped for, as everything we brought was snatched up by happy customers.

McFarmer, proud of our colorful display. He teased me about the party cups o' kumquats. 

McFarmer, proud of our colorful display. He teased me about the party cups o' kumquats. 

We showed up to market confident that we would have beautiful produce but unsure whether enough people would show, and whether or not they would buy.  The farmer's market, just as with the larger Capital "M" Market, is a fickle creature.  Weather, queuing at the nearby coffeeshop and sneezing are huge factors in the viability of a market. 

Oh, and the quantity and quality of vendors, the visibility and advertising, and a receptive, enthusiastic audience are all pretty clutch as well.

Lucky for us, Galveston's Own Farmer's Market is a champion in all these categories. And believe me, finding champions such as that is harder than you might think.  

Locally-minded shopping, let alone "organic" shopping, has become more and more prevalent in recent years. Yet, for various reasons like the ones I've already listed and other, more cloudy political variables, it can be hard for growers nationwide to find their place where they can make a iiving through their plants, animals and so forth.

Enter the local heroes like those found at GOFM,

and can we please just raise the roof for them,

if only in the rafters of our brains?

And I want to emphasize this celebration if you happen to be one of these glorious superheroes--Raise Your Roof.

Vince of 3rd Coast Kombucha, keeping the market's immune system JAMMIN!

Vince of 3rd Coast Kombucha, keeping the market's immune system JAMMIN!

Alex and I couldn't believe our good fortune when, after an hour, we were gazing fondly at a few shiny bunches of radishes that were the only little amigos left at our table.  This is stupendous. For us, absolutely---but for a bigger vision that includes people eating well and giving a shit (giving LOTS of shits!) about their neighbors, their communities and how our little towns and cities eventually add up to the whole wide world.

Thank you to everyone who might've purchased our produce this past Sunday. Thank you to all the considerate humans who were nice to us on Sunday. Thank you to all the growers growing, and ranchers ranching, and entrepeunerers entrepreunering. And thanks to anyone who made it through this gushy loveletter of a post.

We're happy to be here, and we're happy to be a part of something so very good with you..  

And we're so happy it allows us to play in the mud.*

* And speaking of mud, I want to extend Moon Dog Farm's good thoughts to all our neighbors, growers and non-growers alike, who incurred damage from the tremendous hailstorm this week. Please let us know how we might help if you need it. Gotta put that "it's all about community" money where our mouth is....