Have you ever found yourself on the wrong side of a debate? Said the wrong thing, though your heart was in the right place? Maybe you tried your best, but still found yourself embarrassed by your apparent shortcomings–falling short in ways you never expected you would, because you’re a pretty good person, generally speaking. (Though occasionally you flip-off shitty drivers.) I found myself in such a position recently. I like to believe I care about where my food comes from: especially where protein is concerned. Upon moving to Fort Wayne, I did some cursory research on local farms. When out to eat, I know where many restaurants source their proteins from, and so I’ve been able to feel pretty good about my dining choices. I’ll give myself a pat on the back any time I recognize a specific farm’s name on a menu–like I’m some kind of sanctimonious carnivore–one giant step below vegetarian, but still morally superior to those eagerly nomming down on Perdue chicken. I have been, in short, an idiot. This may come as no surprise to you, but I shocked myself this time.
See, I must have missed the memo on farm shares and CSAs. Maybe you’ve all grown up with this sort of convenient access to fresh produce–but I didn’t. I’ve paid attention to where my food comes from when I’m dining out: but what about when I’m eating in? I thought I was doing a good job of 1) getting fresh, local produce and 2) supporting my community by scoring tomatoes (or carrots, greens, whatever) at the Farm Market on Saturday morning–but, as it turns out, I could be doing a whole hell of a lot better. When one friend told me that they participated in a CSA during the summer, my response was basically, “Good for you.” Turns out: most of my Fort Wayne friends spend their warm weather months getting produce directly from farms. I’m the weirdo for not doing it and, yes, I’ve gotten some sideways looks from my pals for not currently being a CSA member. I get it. By joining a CSA, you’re provided with a unique opportunity to access the best, freshest, most delicious produce while interfacing with likeminded people and supporting your local community.
So, in the spirit of trying to do better, I’ve put in some effort and enlisted the help of my friends to assist with filling in any apparent gaps in my knowledge. It was, in fact, my friend Kyle Rehder of Yeasty Boy Bread Co. fame who first brought Hungry Dog Farm to my attention. Kyle and his wife have a CSA share with Hungry Dog Farm and when I probed to learn why they chose Hungry Dog Farm over another CSA option, I was really inspired by Kyle’s answer. He wrote, “It was super small and really reflected a lot of our values and feelings. We love the idea of building urban farms and they were doing just that. We also have friends who are friends with them. As budding small business owners, we felt a responsibility to support them. We don’t regret it at all. Watching their growth and seeing the changes and the amazing quality of produce really is well worth it.” He ticked all the boxes for me–quality produce, supporting community, growing urban farms–who could ask for anything more? What I can now say, pretty confidently, is that when I elect to sign up for a CSA it will probably be with Hungry Dog Farm. Those who know me (perhaps too well) might assume it’s because there’s a cute dog named Ginger who lives on the farm and sometimes greets CSA members when they come to pick up their goodies. While I definitely view interfacing with dogs as an added perk to any activity–I assure you, there are more conventional reasons for falling in love with this farm. Let’s start with the most obvious: their roosters, which are named Dumbledore and Grindelwald, and the eighty hens who live on Hungry Dog Farm. I kid, obviously. Birds are cool–especially ones who lay delicious eggs or have names plucked straight from the wizarding world–but the true element that makes Hungry Dog Farm special is its owners: Andrew and Elaina.
In 2020 they bought the property that is now Hungry Dog Farm. This urban farm is where they live and work: all of their love and effort is poured into this property–and then shared with their community through limited CSA shares. In just three years, they have been the catalysts for so much growth and change on this little farm. Previously, they were able to offer produce to non-CSA members. But as of this most recent summer share, they can no longer do that because there’s a waiting list for CSA shares! They are getting popular for a reason; the quality of their produce probably has a lot to do with it, but the fact that they’re genuinely kind and deeply passionate people certainly doesn’t hurt.
Andrew started farming in 2003. I’m bad at math, but even I can pretty quickly calculate that he’s been farming for twenty years. So, the dude knows what he’s doing. Even with twenty years of knowledge, one of his favorite parts of the job is troubleshooting new problems. In farming, every day is a new adventure, with a new possible obstacle to overcome. Andrew’s “bring it on” attitude is super endearing. The second most endearing thing about Andrew is his other favorite part of his job: making food accessible to his community.
I unfortunately haven’t gotten to meet Elaina yet, but I have it on good authority that she’s awesome. She handles a lot of the administrative tasks for the farm: which is surely no small feat, especially when you take into consideration the steps that are being taken by Hungry Dog Farm to provide the best quality produce they possibly can to as many of their neighbors as they’re able. In my uneducated mind, a CSA isn’t an affordable option for most people, as it requires that you pay a lump sum upfront for food that you’ll collect over the coming weeks. Not everyone is privileged enough to pay for food in such a way–especially not someone who lives on a writer’s salary. (Which, at the moment, is $0 for anyone who’s curious about how I afford my rock n’ roll lifestyle.) However, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that for their upcoming Fall Share, which runs for eleven weeks, vegetable shares are $300, veggies+flowers are $368.48, and adding eggs to your weekly haul is an additional $50. For me personally, the cost feels manageable, as long as I plan ahead for the expense–which I can, and so can you, as the Fall Share begins September 6th.
But for those who couldn’t imagine being able to drop $300 or more in one payment–even with the promise of really perfect fresh produce in your future–Hungry Dog Farms has options. Where I personally get really excited about this specific farm is their devotion to food access for all. I can’t say it better than they already have on the Financial Aid section of their website where they’ve written, “Food access for everyone, regardless of socioeconomic status, has always been important to us at Hungry Dog Farm.” Though they are a new, small, basically two-person endeavor, they have made sure that they’re able to accept SNAP benefits to purchase a CSA share. They’re also partnered with St. Joe Foundation and Parkview’s Veggie RX program to provide further financial aid to those who might otherwise not be able to afford a CSA share. As cool as all of that is, I find the volunteer program that they run particularly special. Though this opportunity isn’t for everyone, they are open to allowing someone to exchange labor for a CSA share. Pending a trial run, to make sure it’s a good fit for everyone involved, volunteers can work 2-2.5 hours each week in exchange for a full CSA share. Lots of local food purveyors talk about wanting to feed their community, but Andrew and Elaina at Hungry Dog Farm have really gone above and beyond when it comes to making fresh produce accessible to their neighbors.
Hungry Dog Farms has embraced their community: and if we embrace them in turn, this sort of symbiotic relationship offered by CSA shares can be the birthplace of wondrous things to come. The future could hold anything for them–expansion, bigger coolers to hold more goodies for CSA holders, air conditioning in the building–the possibilities are endless. Will they jump through the logistical hoops to be officially certified as an organic farm? (They already aren’t using herbicides or pesticides, but seeking that official certification certainly isn’t easy.) Who knows. They’re not afraid to dream big or to put in the hard work to see their dreams become a reality. I, for one, suspect their future will be very sweet.
Plonk & Pleasure 
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