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Being the Market Manager, I have spent the season honing my market routine and shopping strategies. I know if want salad greens I need to buy them first thing. I make sure to get different herbs for cooking. I try to support every farmer and rotate from week to week. I never buy the same thing two weeks in a row. There is one exception to this rule however, and that happens to be the irresistible Biscuit and Gravy Cupcake made by Baked by Lodi. It starts out with a biscuit base that is hollowed out and filled with a ball of cheesy hash brown goodness, then it’s drizzled with homemade gravy, sprinkled with spicy sausage, and tucked up in a neat, white box. Sheer breakfast perfection. Baked by Lodi also offers new and exciting specialty items each week like candied-bacon-beer bread, grilled pineapple hand pies, and delectable cupcakes. With the opportunity arising to interview bakers, I knew I had to pick the brains of Heidi Ellsworth and Logan Mathis the creative couple behind the brand. As I pulled up to their beautiful townhome, I looked up to see Logan’s head floating in midair out the cracked door, wearing his signature Cheshire grin. I started laughing. After working around him the entire summer, I can honestly tell you this is how he looks 100% of the time, except his body is usually visible. I walked up to the door and he welcomed me in and Heidi greeted me at the edge of the living room. “We’re REALLY excited if you can’t tell,” She said laughing. “Good. So am I!” I answered as I followed them down their hallway into the kitchen.
Cinnamon rolls, Heidi and Logan at the market, and carrot cake cupcakes
As we reached the end of the hallway, I was shocked to look up and see that were a dining room table would normally be, industrial stainless-steel racks of cooking supplies lined the wall. Along with two matching stainless-steel islands, a second fridge, and tons of
Industrial shelves full of goodies.
neatly organized cooking accoutrements. “Um…. WOW!” I said, slightly stunned. Remembering that Lodi is a fledging bakery, I asked, “Did you get all this set up just for the farmers’ market?” Heidi responded in a nervous giggle, “Uh no. I’ve always been into baking and so has Logan. So, we kind of have this set up like this more out of necessity.” An instant pang of jealousy rushed down my spine. “Ya, this isn’t even all our baking stuff. A lot of it we keep in sealed organizers so we have room to work. I think we have 4 big ones upstairs,” Logan added. I turned to him a little dumbfounded, “Seriously?” I asked as they both agreed. “How did you guys get into this? I mean, how did you guys decide that baking was going to be your thing?” Heidi sat down at the countertop and I followed her lead. “Well, I grew up baking with my grandma. She has always been the baker in the family and I loved it. She taught me a lot.” Heidi went on to tell me about visiting her Uncle in San Diego and watching an episode of Cupcake Wars on the Food Network. “I just remember seeing that show and thinking to myself that I could do that. I came back and signed up for a couple of Wilton cake decorating classes, tried it out, and loved it.” She moved out to San Diego, enrolled in a culinary arts program, and started working part time in a kitchen supply store (hence the massive collection of baking instruments). I sat there impressed. “No wonder your stuff is so good, you’re a professional!” I added. Heidi smiled, “Not quite, I didn’t finish the program, but I like to think I know what I’m doing.” I can vouch, Heidi knows what she’s doing. Logan leaned against the kitchen counter smiling. “And how do you fit into all of this? How did you get into baking?” I asked.
Logan shrugged, “I like sweet stuff.” I laughed. “No, I grew up with a lot of cooking in my family and I like baking. Actually, that’s how
A sign in the couple’s home.
I convinced Heidi to go on our first date, I told her I made the best pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.” Again I laughed, looking at Heidi, “No way! That’s adorable!” Heidi nodded, smiling, “Ya, and after all that talk he forgot to put the chocolate chips in.” “They were still amazing, but I did forget the chocolate chips,” Logan laughed. I shook my head at the sitcom cuteness of the whole thing. It snowballed from there. They started baking together and Heidi taught Logan more and more tricks of the trade until Logan and Heidi became Lodi. “Now Logan does most of the baking since I work full time, but when I get home we’re in here together.” Logan and Heidi then told me some of their crazy stories about making it all work. For example, their stove caught fire and hasn’t been the same since. So, now they have to set several timers throughout the baking process to remind them to turn the goodies in order to ensure an even bake. I felt overwhelmed for them since timing everything right in even a stir fry gives me a panic attack.
“How do you guys do all that and come up with recipes?” I asked. “We usually start with old family recipes, then we go from there and try to make it our own.” Heidi answered. “We just try tons of stuff.” Logan added, “You’d actually be surprised at how much stuff doesn’t work.” He chuckled. “YES!!! Sometimes it’s recipes we’ve made 100 times and they don’t turn out!” Heidi added. “So, we chuck them and start over.” This quickly turned into a recount of failed flavor combinations and the successful recipes that those led to. Sitting there listening to them go back and forth, it wasn’t hard to see the hard work that goes into Baked by Lodi. This is not just a hobby that let’s them wear matching t-shirts, it’s their passion and creative outlet. It’s no wonder the food is so good. “So…. What are your plans for Baked by Lodi? I mean what do you want to see happen?” I questioned, already clearly seeing the answer before me. “Have you ever seen Cake Boss?” Logan asked seriously. Again, I couldn’t help but laugh, “Yes, I’ve seen Cake Boss.” “That.” Logan smiled. This time we all laughed together, “Honestly though, we have had so much fun at the market doing this and making coffee that it seriously has us talking about getting the ball rolling on a joint bakery coffee shop.” Heidi added. I couldn’t help but emphatically encourage them for my own selfish daydream of biscuit and gravy cupcakes all day every day. Logan walked over to one of the fridges and whipped out a plate of fresh, white chocolate cupcakes and offered me one.
In the kitchen and some delicious breads cooling.
We sat and talked for a little while longer about making the leap as a small business to a brick and mortar location. They told me about possible menu options and décor ideas. I have to admit, I was very excited. This is one of the cornerstone beliefs of the Farmers’ Market, we want to be an affordable way for locals to bring their products to the masses. Without a place like that in our community, how would a small business get their foot in the door? The barriers to entry are too great and it would leave a lot of local dreams dead in the water. We are so proud to have Baked by Lodi as one of our anchor bakers at the market. You can support them almost every Saturday and place specialty orders throughout the week for delivery. Baked by Lodi also offers dessert catering and are now booking for the holidays. You can follow them on Instagram or contact them at (435)467-4410.
http://farmersmarketdowntown.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/in-the-bakery-e1538104511429.jpg9111326Kat Puzeyhttp://farmersmarketdowntown.com//wp-content/uploads/2016/04/st-george-farmers-market.pngKat Puzey2018-09-28 03:15:552018-09-28 03:15:55Baked by Lodi
One thing that I whole-heartedly love about the Farmers’ Market is the wide variety of personalities that it brings together. You’d think that it would attract the same type of people, but everyone is different, quirky, and fun in their own way. I think Seth Stinson is probably the embodiment of that. He is always bright eyed and bushy tailed, quick with a joke, and light hearted to the extreme. His unique range of products exemplifies his individuality. Who else sells duck eggs and live fermented foods like pickles and Kim-chi? So, I was absolutely delighted when given the opportunity to go spend a morning with Seth up in Central, Utah. As I pulled into the cabin studded subdivision, it was hard to imagine a farm out here. The rugged, dry landscape seemed only conducive to the gnarly junipers and Pinyon pines that dominated the scenery. As I rounded a corner dense with trees, I veered sharply into Seth’s concealed driveway. As I pulled up to the three story, A-frame house, Seth was standing outside wearing his signature smile and farmers’ market t-shirt. That’s so awesome, I thought as I hurriedly unbuckled to get out of the car. “Hello!” Seth called. “Now, where would you like to start?” he said, wasting no time. “Wherever you think is best. This is your show!” I answered. “Alright, let’s go.” Seth pointed to the right side of the house and we were off.
Immediately to the right of the driveway the terraced gardens began. The retaining walls are compiled out of all kinds of
Roof top sprinkler
bricks, cinderblocks, and huge pieces of wood. Each section contains a variety of plants. By the time we had reached the edge of the house, the rugged natural landscape was replaced with the dreamy, green wilderness Seth has created. “You want to see something neat?” Seth started fiddling with the hose spigot. I looked at him inquisitively. Surely, he knows I’ve seen a hose before, I thought. “Look!” Seth then pointed to the hose that was running up his roof. I traced it to the top with my eyes and by the time they reached the sprinkler mounted to the roof, water began shooting out of it. “It has a 60 foot watering circumference. It’s also completely efficient: water lands on the roof cooling the house, then runs down the roof into the beds below, no water is wasted.” I stood there laughing in the early morning shower. “Okay, that’s enough.” Seth turned the water off. “Let’s go over here.” He began walking down the garden-lined path that leads around the house. If it’s possible to have a Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory moment about gardening, I was having it. Each bed had its own unique piece of art and complimentary variety of plants. More and more levels of the terraced gardens came into view, making the garden visually appear to be 7 feet tall. There was so much to take in I had to stop and start laughing in overwhelm, “Seth!” I exclaimed. He turned around quickly, probably thinking something was wrong with me because I had cut him off midsentence. “This is amazing!” I sputtered, “I mean… How long have you been out here? How did you start all this?” He smiled. Seth calmly explained to me that he had been out in Central for 20 years (which looks like the right amount of time to get a garden like that) and that his parents had always gardened but it wasn’t until he took a Botany class in college that his curiosity and passion for gardening was sparked.
Magnificent Garlic Chives
By this time, we reached the back corner of the walkway where we stood in front of a bed full of Garlic flowers and a wall of herbs. Breaking off a few Garlic Chive flowers, Seth handed them to me. “Here, dry these then plant them and you’ll have your own Garlic Chives. You’ll actually probably need a bag by the time we’re done.” I smiled as I looked down at my flowers thankfully. This is one of my favorite things about gardening: It’s so easy to share and feel connected to each other and history. Now, when I have Garlic Chives in my garden I will always refer to it as Seth’s chives, and I’ll know where it came from. Sentimental and dumb I know. I looked up and realized Seth was up the path a ways. I hustled to catch up. The small, side path came to a huge wall of grapes and opened to a gigantic yard of terraced gardens. “Holy cow!” I said, holding my hand to my brow to shade my eyes. Bed after bed of beautiful tomatoes, fruit trees, and vegetables sprawled out in front of me. “Yep I do what I can,” Seth said casually. I was completely stunned as Seth started telling me the different varieties and ages of the plants. “See those two pear trees there? Through grafting, I’ve made it so I get 5 different types of pears from each.” He said matter-of-factly. “No way! That actually works?” Seth nodded. It was hear that Seth pointed out that he had 27 different types of trees on the property, including a very extensive collection of Utah native plants. “Here let me show you the Jujube tree.” Seth excitedly walked down a side path. “This is the only tree I get fruit from every year because it waits so long to bloom. The other trees are idiots and bloom in March then freeze, but not this one.” I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t hard to spot because the tree was chalk full of exotic looking green fruit. “So, the fruit comes on, I leave it on the tree to dry and then I pick it.” Seth said, while pointing out the male and female Jujube trees he was cultivating. “Wait, you leave the fruit on there?” I repeated. “Yep. The birds don’t know what it is, so I don’t have to worry about them.” I chuckled. Of course, Seth would have a tree that confused birds, of course! Why wouldn’t he?
terraced gardens and the grape wall
This put us down the path that led to the duck pen which is encircled by gardens of leafy greens. “Ok, you see these greens?” Seth said. “They feed me and the ducks.” He grabbed a quick bunch and took them over to a table that already had a chopping board and a knife. Seth quickly chopped up a gigantic salad, took a mouthful and threw the rest over the fence. “I feed them good duck food and organic greens.” He said as he munched. I was mesmerized by the chocolate-golden colored ducks swarming in front of me. “So, you don’t spray?” I asked. “Nope. I don’t. I think the chemicals they put in our food is what’s killing us.” Seth answered. I nodded in agreement as I looked back at the ducks. “What kind of ducks are these? I’ve never seen them before.” I asked. “They are Golden 300’s. They’re called that because they are supposed to lay 300 eggs a year. Each egg can be 3-4 times the size of a chicken egg too.” Seth answered, I asked if they slow down in the winter and Seth shook his head. “As long as they get 18% protein they’ll lay all year long. Want to collect some eggs?” Seth asked unhinging the gate. I nodded an emphatic yes. Seth showed me around the coop and then to some of the hidden nests throughout the pen to collect the gigantic, fake-looking, white eggs. “This is a really clean pen, Seth. I was always told that ducks were super messy.” Seth chuckled a bit, “Ducks are only messy if you leave open water around them. It’s all about how you keep them.” We stood and watched them run around for a bit before Seth told me he had twelve new ducklings up on the porch. He must have read the sheer excitement on my face because he immediately began to lead me to the back porch. When I climbed the staircase onto the back porch, the view opened up to a beautiful panoramic view of the mountains. “Well, that’s beautiful.” I said pointing out. “Yes, it’s really nice. I sleep outside on the top balcony most nights. Until the wind wakes me up.”
Left to right: Golden 300 ducks, Seth making a salad, and DUCKLINGS!!!
Seth led me over to a big blue container and pointed inside. There were twelve of the cutest fuzzy little ducklings I’ve ever
natural fermented goodness
seen all snuggled together. “AWWWW.” I melted as I reached in to touch one. “One of them almost died. It had a really rough journey,” Seth interjected. He then described the painstaking lengths he went to to revive the little girl. In the corner of the deck, over his shoulder, I saw a smoker. I pointed to it, “So do you smoke the ducks?” “What?” He asked. He turned and saw that I was pointing at the smoker. “Oh no. I’m vegan.” He quickly answered. My expression quickly changed. I don’t know why I’m surprised anymore when people say that, but for some reason Seth completely blindsided me. Seth disappeared inside and came out with a bowl of dried apricots, dates, and pine nuts. “This is what I snack on. The pine nuts I harvest from this property, I get about 25 pounds a year.” He stated. “You collect them and roast them yourself?” I asked. “Oh no. I don’t cook anything.” Seth answered. “Wait…” I interjected. Seth watched me patiently as I added everything up in my head, “So you’re not just vegan you’re a raw foodist.” He nodded. “That’s incredible. Why?” I asked. Seth smiled, quoted Hippocrates, and said in a somber tone, “Let thy food be thy medicine.” Seth then ran me through his long list of medical problems that started with him almost dying at 30. He talked about how one doctor took a huge risk and, off the record, told him to cut out dairy. “I’ve been on a journey since then to heal myself. That’s why I eat raw. That’s why I have my Master Gardener and Master Preserver certifications. That’s why I sell my fermented products at the market. My mission is to educate. You’ve got to continually put something in your stomach every meal to heal yourself.” It turns out, your stomach acid kills most of the natural probiotic so you have to up your intake to gradually replace it. “I only use organic vegetables and pink Himalayan sea salt. No vinegar. If there is vinegar in something it’s dead, not living.”
The view from the back porch and Seth’s stainless steel mason jar handles.
We talked for a long time on the back porch. We discussed living off the land, being self-sufficient, his time in the Army, and life in general. We talked about how our food supply system currently isn’t sustainable and the major changes we see coming. All the while, stopping every so often to look out and drink in the incredible scenery at a mile-high elevation. Sitting there on that porch, I felt incredibly grateful and thankful for all the decisions that lead to me getting involved with the farmers market. I have long been looking for answers to my own health issues and it seems that this job continually puts me in the path of awesome, inspirational, community members that gently lead me to a simpler way of living. Even though I’m slow and still teetering about going full vegan, I think it’s essential to always have conversations which make you evaluate your beliefs. Trust me when I tell you that if anyone can make you question everything, it’s Seth Stinson. I thankfully picked up my bag full of grapes, garlic flowers, and goodies and headed down towards the car. I made Seth take one more picture and then loaded up. As I backed out of the driveway, I kept repeating to myself, “That was so awesome!” and smiled the whole way home. You can support Seth every Saturday at the Downtown Farmers Market at Ancestor Square.
September has brought the love of Fall to the forefront of everyone’s mind. Even at the market, while we are peddling peppers and popcorn on one end, bat ornaments and Fall themed portraits fill the other. Although some people will tell you that pumpkins are the end all be all of Fall, I will argue that nothing signals the change of season more than the luscious apple. This might cause a riot but fresh cider, dunking for apples, and apple pie defined Fall way before the invasion of the Pumpkin Spice Latte. Apples come on right when Fall starts and carry on throughout the season; unlike the ‘orange trash gourd,’ as my husband calls it. So, imagine my overwhelming delight, when Little America Orchard made their triumphant return to the St. George farmers’ market. They are a certified organic orchard from New Harmony. Being that close and that intriguing I basically demanded an interview upon meeting them. As I headed up on Tuesday, the gloomy weather threatened to ruin my trip, but I stayed positive and persevered.
Google Maps fervently tried to convince me to cut through the cemetery to get to Little America Orchard. When I refused, it directed me further down another side street that promptly ended, leaving only an unmarked gravel lane in front of me. I began to drive up it, thinking that the apple tree lined fence was a fortuitous omen. Almost as if Google sensed my thoughts, it gently chimed that this was not the orchard I was looking for and to continue further up the road. Slowly I gained elevation and popped out on the top of the hillside above the surrounding orchards. I gasped. The trail like road had opened up to a 360-degree panoramic view that reminded me of The Lord of The Rings with the Pine Valley Mountains shooting up directly to my left and epic red rock faces protruding in alarming detail to my right. I lifted my foot slowly off my brake and continued to drink in the scenery. As I slowly rolled onto the magnificent 40-acre plot that is Little America Orchard, I found a place to park and lifted myself, and my dropped jaw, out of the car. Tammy Michie opened the house door and called to me smiling. She hurried out to greet me, at which point she motioned to the orchard and said Gary Suppe was just out there picking up apples and would be up in a second. We stood there talking for a minute as we watched the red pickup circle back to the house.
The view off the property
“Man, this is like a story book! Do you just walk out on to your porch and scream ‘YES!’ every morning?” I looked dumbfounded at Tammy. She laughed, “Pretty much! It’s so beautiful here,” Tammy said motioning to the orchard and house, “but all this is Gary.” The red pickup truck pulled in beside us and Gary stepped out. We walked around the truck to meet him, and as we shook hands he motioned to the full flatbed of ‘ground apples.’ “They’re beautiful,” I said as I started to snap pictures. “Ya, I’ll take these and dump them out back for the deer to eat. We don’t use ground apples ever.” Gary stated. I looked at the apples again, some of them were rotten but most of them looked, for lack of a better word, perfect. My mind then immediately jumped to the delicacy of apple fed venison and had to pull myself back to reality. “Well… what do you want to see?” Gary asked. “Everything.” I quickly responded, “I’m nosey.” He laughed a little and nodded then began walking up to the back building. As we approached some stacked apple boxes and a row of tables with a few scales, Gary began explaining their routine, “This is where we do all our processing. We do everything by hand. We pick the apples, clip them, clean them, sort them, then clean them again, and weigh them.” Because they do everything by hand, they can meet special orders and do custom weights. I peered into the boxes overwhelmed by their blush colored contents, then looked up, “Wait… Just the two of you? Or do you have help?” Without a moments hesitation Gary repeated my statement, “Just the two of us.” I raised my eyebrows and looked back over my shoulder at the 250 apple trees. Gary seemed to read my mind, “It’s hard, you know? You can’t hire people when you don’t know how much you’ll make off the apples.” I asked how long his work days were, and he said during long summer days he’ll go out before the sun and come in after dark.
I turned back and mindlessly reached in the box and grabbed an apple for closer inspection. The skin was so beautiful and
The cider press
perfect I could see little reflections on the surface. “Wow,” I said, “This really is a beautiful apple. Is it waxed or something?” I looked up at Gary. His answer was already waiting for me, “No. I don’t use anything like that on my apples. I mean I could use a wax and still be considered organic, but I won’t. That’s just who I am.” I knew he meant it. This also got us talking about the fact that Little America Orchard is USDA certified Organic. A process that you don’t go through unless you are patient and 100% serious. He walked me through the seemingly endless paperwork, the bi-annual visits from inspectors, and the rigorous testing. “Sometimes I roll my eyes and wonder why I do this,” Gary’s tone suggested he was only half joking. He quickly pointed to the bushel behind the table and explained that these were the cider apples. “Do you want to see the cider press?” Tammy asked. I nodded emphatically. Gary walked me over to a door that opened onto an industrial stainless-steel wash basin and uncovered a beautiful, massive, old-fashioned cider press. “WOW!” I squealed. “Is it a hand press?” “Yep, like I said we do everything by hand. We’ll probably start doing cider here at the end of the month.” I started to salivate. I helped him put the cover back on the press, and trailed behind him out the door to join back up with Tammy. We stood out front for a second, when Tammy pointed up the hill and asked if I wanted to see the cooler.
Now, obviously, when there is a cooler on an apple farm, it should be no surprise when said cooler is full of apples. I still was surprised. I was even more shocked when Gary pointed out that, “These are only Galas, when the other varieties start coming on, you won’t even be able to walk in here.” I was positively giddy. Even in a cooler, the fresh delicious apple-y scent permeated everything. Not the synthetic Bath and Body nonsense, but the real stuff. My lizard brain was going crazy as Gary closed the massive door. We turned and looked back at the orchard and began to walk down. “So how many other varieties do you have?” I asked. “Gala, Golden Delicious, Fuji, Cameo, Pink Lady, and Braeburn,” Gary answered quickly and precisely and started listing why he chose these five. He also went into detail about their staggered growing seasons. I was struggling to get my chubby fingers to type fast enough on my phone, I made the note to try voice recording from here on out. Gary told me that he had bought the trees out of Washington in ’03 and as part of the ‘Certified Organic’ process, he had to have them inspected upon purchase. “Wait, I thought you said you started in ’09?” I stopped. “That’s the first year we got fruit off the trees. That’s the first year we certified the fruit. The process started way before that.” I was beginning to see the true scope of the never-ending paperwork Gary had mentioned. “You said this was a childhood dream, did you grow up around apples?” I asked. Gary then described growing up in upstate New York and every October visiting the orchards: doing the U-picks, drinking cider, and being swept up in the spirit of apple season. It wasn’t hard to imagine the magic of those apple orchards when I looked across at Gary’s own little apple filled paradise.
The boxes of beautiful Galas, Gary and Tammy outside the cooler.
As the three of us stepped across the threshold into the orchards, the thought crossed my mind that this was probably hands down the most beautiful orchard in Utah. Gary spaced the trees farther apart than average (13 ft. to be exact) to help mitigate the spread of disease. Dark, lush rows of clover run under the trees to, “Fixate nitrogen into the soil for the trees.” Gary said while reaching up to grab an apple. “Let me show you this one. It’s been so incredibly dry this year that the grasshoppers have cleaned the leaves off of all these trees.” Gary mumbled, in between bites of his apple. “See watch, he knows everything about these trees. He’s out here all the time.” Tammy whispers and nods supportively. I laughed, recognizing this mindset anywhere. It’s something that only happens when you work the same piece of land over and over. It becomes a family member. You do everything in your power to help it succeed and love it even when it’s being difficult. It’s absolutely beautiful to see this connection first hand. Gary finally made it to the row of grasshopper vandalized trees and showed me the raw exposed branches. He then pointed to a few stray apples on the ground. “My chore today is to clear the ground so the rabbits and ants don’t come in.” He joked finishing his apple. “So, a lot of what you do as an Organic grower is proactive.” I commented. “EXACTLY!” Gary answered, “I do everything I can to stop the problem before it starts, because the stuff I spray with every 10 or 15 days you can pretty much eat.” We walked through row after beautiful row. The fruit ranging in color from blush to gold to green to pink against the gray skies. Gary pointed out the different shades, saying things like, “You won’t see that in a chemical apple.” When I asked him to elaborate, he told me about all the different chemicals you can put on a tree not just pesticides. “You know that cooler up there? Big orchards will have a bunch of them. They’ll fill it with apples and put a chemical in there commonly called ‘smart fresh’ seal it up, and as long as it stays sealed those apples will keep for up to two years.” My stomach turned, and I think from the look on my face, Gary could tell he had sold me.
Clockwise from the left: Gary inspecting grasshopper damage, apples, apples , and more APPLES!
We circled back toward the house and Gary mentioned that he had to feed his gigantic Koi fish. “What?” I stopped. “Do you want to feed them?” He asked. “Yes, yes I do.” We walked around the deer apples and talked about food and farming. He pointed out neighboring orchards and ponds. We approached the gigantic man-made pond and he whistled for the Koi to come. As he sprinkled the food pellets hundreds of mouths and different patterns emerged out of the water. I laughed and tried to get pictures. “Do you have these for fun?” I chuckled. “No, I sell them too sometimes. Mostly to places in Vegas, but they’re fun.” He explained sizes to me and patterns and then we walked back toward the house, where Gary disappeared into the orchard again and Tammy took me around the house. While we were standing on the deck, I turned to her and said, “Well what if I never want to leave?” Tammy laughed and understandingly said, “Everyone says that.” I smiled at her and thanked her for sending me off with a few bags of apples. On the way out, I stopped a record breaking five times to take pictures. I smiled all the way home. When I unloaded, I cut up an apple to share with my son and husband. I am not ashamed to admit, that after my first bite I immediately took all the pieces out of their hands and grabbed the plate and ate my apple alone in a corner. They’re that good.
The beautiful orchard
If you would like to get your hands on some apples from Little America Orchard, they will be selling at the Downtown Farmers’ Market at Ancestor square for the rest of the season or you can reach them at email@example.com or by phone at (435) 414-5554.