A visit to Stony Brook Valley Farm
Western Massachusetts is a different place. So many of the houses have farm stands out front that our friend Kamran [Bajwa], who grew up in the area, told us “in the summer, you never have to go to a grocery store.” Everywhere you look there is food, and people who care about food.
Bilal [Mirza] also came out of this world, a world where good food is important. As a Harvard undergraduate and a runner, he started to learn more about health and nutrition, and began to really care about what went in his body.
After a few years working for Red Fire Farm—one of America’s largest CSA programs—he purchased several acres of gorgeous pasture and is now in his first year of business as Stony Brook Valley Farm. Right now he raises poultry and eggs, and Boer meat goats.
We stood in the drizzle watching the meat chickens peep and scratch around, a few weeks old and only half-colored by red-brown or peppery plumage. They huddled together around trays of grain milled on-site in an old dairy barn, fortified with kelp, clay, vitamins and minerals. An adventurous bird or two stepped through the fence and disappeared under broad burdock leaves only to reappear a few minutes later.
Chaplain Bilal Mirza
We talked about kosher slaughter. A good kosher slaughter, done with a flawless steel knife so sharp that it must slice paper, is quick and painless, the cut effortlessly made by the weight of the knife. Kamran talked about using Bilal’s kosher knife for last summer’s Eid, marveling at how easily it cut.
We saw the knife later—an impressive Weimar-era German blade with an ebony handle that he picked up on EBay. The blade is squared off at the end to avoid puncturing the animal’s throat, a mistake that is painful for the animal and invalidates the religious validity of the slaughter. There are many little mistakes that can invalidate a kosher slaughter, which means that kosher standards are high. We can learn a lot from the Jewish community about perfecting technique.
The egg hens live in moveable enclosures on two other sprawling pastures, guarded by affable shaggy white dogs that keep away foxes, coyotes, and hawks. I was delighted to see the hens picking around in the tall grass, huddled together on piles of branches, truly free-range. Bilal proudly gave us two dozen of his eggs—each egg slightly different, a different shade of brown or a slightly different shape, each one from a different proud, glossy caramel-colored chicken. The water for soft-boiled eggs is heating up on the stove right now.
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| Kamran Bajwa |
On our way back to Kamran’s house for glasses of raw milk and then dinner, quinoa kebseh (Syrian-style chicken boiled with cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and bay leaves, over quinoa cooked in the fragrant broth–a new take on an old favorite), we stopped at the Red Fire farm stand.
It was lush with flowers and vegetable seedlings for sale, including a dozen or so varieties of heirloom tomatoes. The stand was stocked with all sorts of local items. We picked up blueberries preserved in honey, and bags of dried kelp and dulse seaweeds from Maine. We tallied our purchases and left the money in a box—everything was on “the honor system.” Dinner was, of course, fantastic, and on our drive back to Boston we felt a little stunned by the wonder of the day, the delicious meal, warm conversation, and inspiring vision.
It was lush with flowers and vegetable seedlings for sale, including a dozen or so varieties of heirloom tomatoes. The stand was stocked with all sorts of local items. We picked up blueberries preserved in honey, and bags of dried kelp and dulse seaweeds from Maine. We tallied our purchases and left the money in a box—everything was on “the honor system.” Dinner was, of course, fantastic, and on our drive back to Boston we felt a little stunned by the wonder of the day, the delicious meal, warm conversation, and inspiring vision.
The farm is not just a place where people can purchase halal meat and eggs of exceptional quality produced with ihsan, but there are plans for it to serve as an educational center as well where people can learn about global indigenous farming practices and have an opportunity to get in touch with how their food is produced.
We spun through the radio, hearing bits of songs, catching the tail end of a Jazz show, “I’ll see you next week, insh’Allah…” Nuri kept going through the dial and I shouted “Wait, did he just say insh’Allah?” He went back and the man’s voice was still there, “…signing out, thanking God Most High for the gift of music.”
We spun through the radio, hearing bits of songs, catching the tail end of a Jazz show, “I’ll see you next week, insh’Allah…” Nuri kept going through the dial and I shouted “Wait, did he just say insh’Allah?” He went back and the man’s voice was still there, “…signing out, thanking God Most High for the gift of music.”
Were we in some magnificent alternate reality, where Muslims care deeply about the quality and life of the soil; about the ethics of a good life; about gratitude for the animals that feed us and an awareness that this world is the jennah of animals, where they are in a constant state of dhikr and submission, and what that means for how we care for them; where everything is a work in progress, always improving to be more gentle and of greater benefit; where Muslims on the radio thank God for the gift of music; where Muslims thank God for the gifts of animals and plants and sustenance? Was this really happening?
We tapped open our soft-boiled eggs and off came firm little shell hats. Inside, the yolk was a dark marigold color. I tasted it without salt—rich and creamy and generous. Great care and effort goes into such beautiful eggs, and it shows. We’re already planning soufflés and custards.
Stony Brook Valley Farm is now open to new CSA memberships with drop off locations across the wider Boston area. They are the only Boston-area business offering a humanely-raised, organic halal meat CSA that we know of, and we highly recommend them. Visit their website for more information.
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