For those of you who have been following me for a while, since way before the creation of this little newsletter, you may know me as Farmer Lauren— one half of the farming duo at Raleigh’s Hillside Farm where I partnered with my brilliant, handy soil scientist husband Kyle to create food out of seeds, soil, water, and sunshine that we sold to the greater Madison area in the form of beautiful, bountiful CSA shares.
It’s an identity I have held for some quite some time now.
Grower of food, creator of (plant) life, CSA manager, newsletter writer, voice for the farm, educator, community builder, small business owner, manager, boss, bookkeeper, administrator, weed slayer, transplant queen were a few other titles I enjoyed over the years. Yes, some of them were self-proclaimed, but claim them I did nonetheless.
And this year, most of these identities don’t really fit.
My husband and I have decided to take a break from our farm. How we got there, what that means, and what the future looks like are all things we’ll surely get into in the weeks, months, and years ahead, but for now, let’s just say I’m in the midst of an identify shift, finding myself much happier to be a freelancing, recipe developing, good food advocate, cheerleader, coach, and thought partner than I ever through possible.
I thought I had to be out there working the fields to feel fulfilled. I thought spring would come and I’d feel a giant hole in my heart and race to sign up to be a worker share at the first farm that would take me. It turns out as long as I’m still playing with food, visiting my friends at their farms, and partnering with producers doing their own great work, my heart doesn’t feel so empty.
It fact it feels more full than ever, because I suddenly feel like all the energy I’ve been pouring into my own business these past few years can be poured into the local food system instead.
And I think that was actually always the dream. The dream I couldn’t see because I was too buried inside the business to remember the big thing that got us started in the beginning. I guess I couldn’t see the forest for the trees, or whatever. Funny how those cliches always work their way into our lives at one point or another.
Anyhow, that all explains a little bit about how I found myself here, with a new platform after seven years of loving and nurturing a different one for years.
The Leek & The Carrot was always just about us— about two cute kids with a big farm dream, crafting our business through all of its ups and downs. For now, that business is in a year of rest, reinvention, and rediscovery, and for now, that means the mission looks a little different.
So this Substack is where I start. It’s my own personal reinvention, my rediscovery of my voice as it stands away from the farm, away from the very public persona of our farm business.
This platform will still be about us, our journey, our joys, our sweet baby, and our lives, but it will also be about community. About the powerful stories I’ve seen unfolding in our region over the nine years since I dove headfirst into it. And obviously, the food I make with the great ingredients I collect from all over this region.
It will be a beautiful blend of us, our food community, and utter deliciousness.
I’m thrilled to share it all with you and so grateful so many of you already followed me over here.
I’m going to start this new journey somewhere perfect— somewhere so symbolic, so quintessentially wrapped up in Southern Wisconsin food magic I can hardly handle it. I’m waking up early tomorrow, loading my daughter into the car, and heading to the first Dane County Farmers’ market of the season for the start of their 50th year.
I’ll whip up something delicious with the goodies I pick up this weekend, and I can’t wait to share the recipe soon!
-Lauren