Image credit: Aaron Blanco Tejedor @the_meaning_of_love

Any fantasy I held that my remote, rural area in upstate New York would escape the immigration thuggery of ICE was dashed reading last week’s farm note.

[I’ve been a member of Essex Farm CSA for twenty-one of the twenty-two years it has been up and running. Essex Farm is co-owned and managed by husband/wife team Mark and Kristin Kimball. Kristin is also the international best-selling author of The Dirty Life, the story of the farm’s first year, and Good Husbandry, the continuing saga. Five stars. Highly recommend.]

For the first time in twenty-one years, this summer hamburger and beef have been in short supply. There is always, always burger, even when other cuts are scarce. What happened?

The butcher they have used for years to prepare their beef lost his entire crew to an ICE raid this summer. “There is no light at the end of the ICE tunnel at the moment,” Kristin wrote in the weekly note. “So we’ve decided to go back to our roots and re-open our own farm butcher space.”

Being financially supported by its members and therefore off the retail grid, Essex Farm is not reliant on immigrant labor to stay afloat. Despite being chronically understaffed, the farm produces an almost limitless bounty of produce, dairy, grains, eggs, chickens, pork, and lamb. It’s plenty, plenty, plenty. I can easily live without beef.

Do I want to live with ICE? No. Their presence is devastating the dairy and local economy from east to west across northern New York. Modern dairy farms are large scale operations that rely on underpaid illegal immigrant labor to milk the cows. Why illegal? The H2A visas that enable the workers to come here are good for only nine months a year. Given that cows need milking year-round, the sad reality is that most of those workers are here illegally for part of the year. (I ask myself why these dairy farms haven’t banded together to demand the nine-month limit be extended to twelve. Also, why their owners overwhelmingly voted for Trump.)

The Trump administration’s aggressive deportation policy is shutting down many of these farms and related concerns. Workers are returning home and not coming back. Local businesses dependent on the dairy workers spending their wages on rent, food, clothes, etc. are also going out of business. Then local workers lose their jobs too.

Climate change has played a role as well in Essex Farm’s beef shortage. “The larger story on beef is that the cattle market has gone nuts,” Kristin wrote. “The long drought out west forced ranchers to depopulate their herds and sent the price of cattle into the stratosphere and it’s still going up…. In recent years we’ve bought weaned beef calves to raise here…. When we saw what was happening with the market, we changed course and went back to breeding our own beef calves. Unfortunately, beef is a long game…. (G)rass fed cattle need at least two years to finish on the forage we have here at Essex Farm. [Isn’t that interesting? I didn’t know that.] We are going to be behind the curve of your demand for beef until next spring [2026]….”

Drought is not restricted to the western states. Drought hit here too, with wildly extreme temperatures in late June and July, the height of the growing season. Kristin observed in another farm note that “It’s looking a little dust-bowl-ish out there. Cracks in the ground are never a pretty thing. However, we are faring well because of our drained fields. It’s counter-intuitive but drainage actually helps on a dry year because roots go deeper.”

Out in the fields, where there was no shade, Essex Farm’s farmers toiled in temps above 110 F. Their work paid off. The farm delivered. The produce this year has been unbelievably delicious. The drought concentrated the flavor of the tomatoes: slicers, heirloom, cherry and paste; the peppers, hot and sweet; the cukes; the green beans; summer squashes; eggplants; corn, and more, so much more. And the herbs! Basil, basil, and more basil. Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

Yes, it’s been far too hot and dry this year. Yes, the presence of ICE has cast a freezing pall. And yet the farm persists. There is deep joy in that. I was u-picking cherry tomatoes a few weeks ago when I crossed paths with Beth, a staff farmer of many years. “Come check this out,” she said, leading me to a long row of bushy green plants. Squatting, she shoveled dirt with her hands and pulled out a potato plant by its roots, roots loaded with potatoes. “How fun is this?” she grinned, shaking it in her earthy hand. I heart Essex Farm.

It’s grounding and life affirming—even radical— to be a part of an essential enterprise so much bigger than myself. Is there anything more basic to life than food? I know that my participation and financial contribution matter to the farm’s well-being, just as I know the farm is essential to mine. In a time when cynics insist one vote, one donation, one protest won’t make a difference, the farm reminds me every week when I pick up my food that yes, I count. I make a difference. Everyone invested in the farm makes a difference. So, yes, you count. You make a difference. Go forth and persist, my friends. Be part of something bigger than yourself and keep the faith. Resist in any way that works for you.

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