Buy Local * Eat Fresh * Live Well

The Alleged Farm is located in the Town of Easton, in the rolling hills of southern Washington County, New York. We farm on fields under continuous cultivation since 1788 and take our stewardship of the land seriously. For us, that means a commitment to sustainable practices such as crop rotation, controlled grazing, minimal tillage and the use of cover crops and compost in order to promote and maintain the health of the earth.

We are also committed to growing tasty and healthy crops. We believe that fresh local produce tastes better and that crops grown without the use of synthetic fertilizer and pesticide are better for you and for everything that lives on our farm. We do everything we can—from choosing varieties to choosing when to harvest a crop—to ensure that our customers receive the best possible produce.

If you want to try some of our produce—and we grow everything from artichokes to zucchini–you can join our CSA or visit our stand at the Glens Falls farmers' market. Individuals and businesses can also contact the farm to arrange purchases.

Thomas Christenfeld
The Alleged Farmer

The Alleged Farm News – 14 July, 2016

This week’s share: Genovese and lemon basil, Napa cabbage, Dill, Escarole, Garlic, Leeks, Lettuce, Snap peas, Potatoes, Squash


Small potatoes are increasingly big. I know, kind of a lame joke. But it is true. In a couple of ways actually, now that I think about it. Literally, for instance. The small potatoes on our potatoes vines are getting big. Or at least bigger. To get really big they would probably need somewhat more consistent rain, rather than, say, getting almost nothing in June and then 4 inches the afternoon of July 1st. Still, they are definitely growing.

But what I really meant is that the market for small potatoes has increased significantly in recent years. Increased from essentially nothing to now making up 12% of potatoes sales. In the old days, by which I mean maybe a decade ago, potato farmers generally regarded small potatoes as an annoyance. They were just potatoes that had not amounted to anything.


For a seed potato grower small potatoes have some use since they make good seed stock. You don’t have to cut them before planting, which makes them far less susceptible to rot than than the normal cut seed pieces. But they were viewed as having no real culinary value–possibly because you cannot make french fries from small potatoes. I don’t know what potato growers did with their small potatoes, but it would not surprise me if they just threw them away.

Now they stick them in mesh bags and sell them at a premium as gourmet spuds. And to be fair, there are good reasons to prefer small potatoes. They cook faster and more uniformly, and they look nice. But I think a lot of people assume they are also somehow not just fancier (for some reason very small or very large often equals fancy for produce), but also fresher. After all, they must have been picked as babies so they are young and fresh–those new potatoes, whatever that means, that you see mentioned on menus.

Well, they could be, except that you see those bags of small potatoes in the store year-round, plus potato plants make a lot of tubers, and not all of them size up. A potato plant dug long after it has died (I would say of natural causes, but in fact most big potato farms kill their vines with herbicide at some point in order to have a more predictable harvest date) will still yield some small potatoes. That is just how potatoes work.

And while it is true some potato packer has bothered to sort out the nice little ones just for you, they do that anyway. They have just run all the potatoes through grading machines on the packing line like they always have. All that has changed is that they found a clever way to sell the little ones they used to grade out.

That is not a bad thing. In fact, it is good. Good for the potato farmers, who have found value in something that previously had none. Good for the planet because it reduces food waste. And good for people who like small potatoes and would never had found any in a grocery store before.

The only slight concern nagging at me is the trend, of which these small potatoes are certainly part, to bring modern American marketing to the world of produce. Not that marketing has played no role before now. People would hype new crops–broccolini, for instance–and new varieties–the Uglyripe tomato. But by and large they skipped all the suggestive aspirational lifestyle ploys used to sell soda and chips and all those other foodish edible objects that take up the vast majority of our stores and diets. Vegetables, being so obviously just themselves, don’t easily lend themselves to that sort of thing, and anyway there’s just not that much money in produce.

But now eating well, eating local, eating fresh, these have become more culturally meaningful. Now a vegetable is not just a vegetable. What you buy in the produce section can tell people something about you, about your values and sophistication and skills and knowledge and wealth. And once that happens the marketers have something with which to work on you.

Which, I suppose, could be great if it just serves to make more people eat vegetables. But that kind of marketing has a way of twisting things into new shapes, of making people think drinking soda will turn them into fit, fun-loving beach-goers when they are far more likely to end up as desperately ill diabetics. One of the attractive things about vegetables–at least to me–is that they are what they are. Unlike, say, a frozen pizza, they aren’t good at lying. You don’t need any marketing suggestions to figure out what is good. Just have a small sense of adventure and use your senses and you will know what is good.

You may even be able to tell which potatoes, such as the ones in your box this week, are actually new. New meaning early season, dug while the plants are still alive, before the skins have set. What really makes them special is that they are the first potatoes of the new season. Well that and the fact that they actually taste like something: a potato.


Vegetable notes: Lemon basil, as one might expect, has a lemony as well as a basilly flavor. You could chop it up finely with garlic and some hot pepper, mix it with olive oil, salt and a little lemon juice or vinegar and have a nice sauce for grilled fish or steak or squash. You could make a lemony pesto, which would be good on some steamed potatoes or sautéed squash. And best of all, you can steep it in simple syrup and mix one part syrup with one part good bourbon over lots of ice and enjoy the Alleged Farm cocktail #1 (more on cocktail #2 some other time).

You can use Napa much as you would normal cabbage, or stir fry it (its tender texture lends itself to quick cooking) or you could carefully remove the outer leaves and steam them until the ribs are pliable and use the leaves as wrappers for spring rolls or stuffed “grape” leaves or whatever else you think might be good wrapped up in a Napa cabbage leaf.

These little leeks are fairly tender so you could grill or broil them and marinate them overnight and they would be good with cold grilled squash or chopped up and added to a potato salad. Or you could just cook them with the escarole and a lot of garlic and finish it with some Genovese basil. I would point out that you could add some chunks of potato and chicken stock and make a nice hearty soup, but it is way to hot to think about that.

The Alleged Farm News – 7 July, 2016

This week’s share: Thai basil, Chard, Kohlrabi, Garlic, Lettuce, Onions, Snap peas, Radishes, Squash, Turnips


My farm is teeming with immigrants. From South America and China, India and Europe, the Middle East and Mexico. These aliens have turned up on our shores with their own sometimes peculiar tastes, odd looks, distinct habits, special needs. Some of them are full of vigor and set about outcompeting the natives. Others require constant care to survive at all. They have been here for years or only just made it to our shores. Some have entered our culture easily, some have had to work their way in, some linger on the margins, never fully accepted.

Have they wrecked our country, caused us to slip from our former greatness, debased our purity, taken opportunities from those who belong here? Maybe we should we pack them all up and send them back to their own lands.


Call me crazy, but I think not. Far from wrecking anything, these immigrants have added enormously to our lives, adding variety and complexity and real economic benefits, and just generally making things more interesting. Plus it would be really tough to round them all up and send them home, and if we somehow managed to do that we would quickly find that we missed them.

Just in case anyone thinks I have opened a refugee camp, let me clarify that I am talking about vegetables. I am tempted from time to time to take in some family fleeing one horror or another, let them pursue their agricultural lives in peace. For the moment, however, and rather less nobly, I have just taken in their crops: beets, tomatoes, garlic, kale, potatoes, broccoli, lettuce, parsley, carrots, onions, cucumbers, peppers, eggplant, radishes, rutabagas, cabbages, peas, turnips, dill, currants, leeks, kohlrabi, cauliflower. Actually, it would be easier to list the crops that don’t come from elsewhere. It is a short list. Squash and pumpkins, beans and husk cherries, sage and… well, that may be it.

It is not that there are no other edible natives. People lived here for thousands of years before the cucumber showed up and they must have had a few green things to go with their giant ground sloth. If you want to get some idea of the variety out there, take a walk around the farm with Sean, who spend many evenings gathering wild crops from the woods and streams and hedgerows–and even some of the weeds from our fields.

You might be surprised how much is out there. Young cattail shoots and day lily roots and ramps and hickory nuts. Though you might also be surprised by the effort required to get enough of these crops (well, other than the edible weeds, which we have in dismaying abundance) to make anything like a meal. An evening of foraging will net Sean a small bag of goodies. I can pick enough lettuce for all of you in half an hour.

I suppose there is something attractive about the idea of making do with what you find right around you. It sounds sustainable and simple and natural and balanced, a sort of ideal self-sufficiency. But what’s wrong with a little help from others, especially when that help tastes as good as a tomato or garlic. And anyway, this idea of things belonging immutably to a particular place–of true natives–is nonsense. We have all been moving around for eons, peoples and plants and microbes sweeping across continents, changing what they encounter and being changed by it.

Of course, Japanese eggplants and Peruvian tubers coming to live in my Easton fields causes fewer social problems than, say, thousands of Syrians fleeing through Europe. But this vegetable melting pot I call a farm does remind one that things tend not to stay put, for which we human beings bear a huge portion of the responsibility, and that we have consequently benefitted as well as suffered. Choosing a moment in time and declaring it the point of equilibrium may impose some desired order on the chaos we inhabit. But it is a fiction, and most often told for no good purpose. Better, it seems to me, to accept the change as generously as possible, set aside a little ground to give the newcomers a place to grow. It will cost space and time and effort, but it may well improve your life too.


Vegetable notes: As always, I make my plea on behalf of your snap peas. Do not cook them for more than a couple of minutes. They just need to turn bright green. Nothing more. Well, a little salt. But that’s it. Cook them longer and they turn from snap peas to mush peas.

As you can see, the squash patch has hit its stride. Opinions vary about whether or not that is a good thing. You may start to get tired of them in a few weeks. We, most likely, will get tired of picking them. But they are a versatile vegetable. I think of them as sort of vegetable pasta. They go well with all sorts things. I think, though, that they may be best grilled, marinated (olive oil, vinegar, smoked paprika, basil, garlic, salt and pepper) and eaten cold, in particular as an addition to a sandwich. Just about any sandwich. Maybe not peanut butter and jelly (I dare some one to try it).

Thai basil can be used in place of the more familiar Italian, and obviously it goes well in Thai dishes. It’s also good in various desserts or infused in simple syrup and mixed into various drinks (try it with bourbon for a start).

As many of you may recall, we had a terrible garlic crop last season. I am happy to say this year’s crop looks much better. Well, you can see for yourself. Right now the heads are uncured (we dug these bulbs a couple of days ago), which means the cloves are a little milder and a lot juicer. The garlic would go well with some sautéed chard.

The kohlrabi (round green object) is, I think, best just peeled and sliced up and eaten raw so it is still crunchy. But if you don’t like crunchy you could cut it into chunks and steam it.

On a general note, any pockmarks you might notice on your produce are the result of the hail we got last Friday. As hail goes, it was not bad, but ice pellets blown into vegetables at 50 miles and hour do tend to leave a mark.

The Alleged Farm News – 30 June, 2016

This week’s share: Basil, Beets, Garlic chives, Dill, Endive, Kale, Koji, Lettuce, Scallion, Squash


As a rule I strongly approve of those who widen their taste in vegetables. I like to hear from members who have happily discovered a new vegetable or even found that they like something they thought they did not. My own wife believed she disliked beets until I started growing them and she learned that fresh beets bear little resemblance to the things she had been served at her grade school cafeteria. And while my older son is a reasonably accomplished guy and soon to be 20, I remain particularly proud of the time when he announced at the age of three that he likes turnips (and I don’t think he has gone back on that opinion since).

I have an obvious commercial interest in people eating a wide range of vegetables (I am assuming such people also end up eating more vegetables rather than just having increasingly small portions of more and more different crops). But I like to think I am in favor of broad vegephilia for other reasons too. Such as the feeling that an openness to new things suggests a more tolerant approach to the world, and god knows we could use a little more tolerance. Or that an enthusiasm for discovery suggests an active mind, and it seems we could certainly have more of those. Or that the ability to take pleasure in something as simple as a vegetable suggests an aptitude for contentment, and we could all learn to be a little more content with our lot.

But more than any grandiose dyspeptic social theory, it really comes down to the fact that I like eating all sorts of vegetables, even sometimes fennel. That is why I farm, and farm they way I do. Liz tells me from time to time that I ought to pare down my crop list, concentrate on a few crops well suited to my soils. But what crops would I jettison? I have tried a pretty broad range of crops over the years and I can think of four that I don’t plant any more. I cannot even make myself stop trying to produce artichokes, despite the obvious difficulties of that undertaking. It may not be fully efficient, but I like having a wide array of crops. And I like giving them to people who feel more or less the same way about them–and if giving people a wide array of crops helps them to discover a taste for a wide range of crops that is particularly satisfying

Given all that, I suppose I ought to feel rather pleased with the deer around here, who have decided this year to start eating all sorts of crops they normally would not touch. For 20 years they have had fairly consistent preferences: chard, beets, lettuce, endives, carrots, soy beans. And when they cannot get at those (because we have moved those crops into field houses or put up electric fence or sprayed repellant) they will eat dill and parsley and beans and peas and celery and artichokes, And in the late fall as they run out of other things they will browse on radishes and pumpkins and maybe even the occasional zucchini.

But this year they have, so far, eaten the tops off about a third of the outside tomatoes, browsed the ends of the potato rows, had a go at some pepper plants and even snacked on a few onions. Well, bravo deer. You have really expanded your palate.

I cannot help wondering what has come over them. Tolerance, curiosity and contentment no doubt. But I feel like something else must be going on too. Are these different deer? Has some new herd moved into town, immigrant deer with their own peculiar eating habits? Or just a new generation, hipster deer caught up in their own foodie enthusiasm for everything fresh and local, snapping pictures of the tomato plants on their cell phones before tucking in. Or have they started to sense the change in the climate? Perhaps the weird winters and increasingly violent storms are starting to freak them out, and they realize they are going to have to change their habits to adapt to whatever exactly this is.

That or, being deer, they are just looking for new ways to irritate me. Sure, digging up carrots and destroying row covers may still get a rise out of me after all these years, but if you keep going back to the same tricks they start to lose their power. So they have decided to mix things up a bit. If deer can chortle, that is what I would hear them doing in the dark as the ravage the tomato rows. And I seriously doubt they even like tomato plants. If I looked around carefully enough I would find where they spit out the plants.

Which is why I am less than chuffed about the deer broadening their diet. Trying new things is good, but ideally you try them and like them. And if you don’t like them at first, sure, try them again once, maybe even twice more. But at some point, move on. There’s no shame in discovering that you dislike something. Just don’t wreck it for the people who do. That’s just rude. Clearly, I am going to have to be quite stern with these deer. Well, that or just start spraying more deer repellent and hope they develop a taste for something else. Such as weeds.


Vegetable notes: Koji, the head of crinkled dark green leaves and crisp stems, is a new variety somewhere between a bok choi and a tatsoi. You can eat more or less the whole thing, and you can cook it whole. Just steam the whole head until the stems are slightly tender (you don’t want to lose the crunch entirely) and pour over a little chili oil, vinegar and soy sauce and some chopped garlic chives. Or you can cut it apart and add it to a salad, or you could cook it with your beet greens.

As for the beets, you can boil them until a fork slides in smoothly or bake them or roast them or eat them raw. I know most people don’t think of eating them raw, but you can grate them into salad or cole slaw and have the texture of carrots and that good earthy beet flavor.

The head of frilly leaves is frisee endive. You can cook it, but it is really meant as a salad green, especially the paler central leaves. Because it is a bitter green I like to adjust the dressing a bit when I use it, maybe add a little cream or some bacon or even a touch of something sweet to balance the flavors. I know a lot of people choose to accomplish more or less the same thing by not using adding the endive in the first place, but I think it makes salad a little more interesting.


The Alleged Farm News – 23 June, 2016

This week’s share: Basil, Escarole, Lettuce, Mustard greens, Onion, Savory, Hakurei turnips


Surprisingly, I have little taste for haute couture. I know, I know, you would never guess it when you see how I choose to dress myself. I guess some people just have a natural sense of style.

But it’s true. No matter how hard I try, I just cannot make myself care about the way certain fabrics drape or learn to appreciate really fine stitching around a button hole or give a damn about a playful reinterpretation of some hemline from the 1960s.

All right, maybe I have not tried hard enough. Maybe with more study I could learn to see the value in crafting obscenely expensive, deliberately non-utilitarian clothes that only look good–or at least remarkable–on women with the alien body types in order to impress the famous and wealthy.


But wait, fashion’s defenders say, it’s not just about some pointless self-referential world of privilege and luxury. Fashion trends trickle down and turn up in the most ordinary places. Oh goody. We common folk get to be cajoled into buying clothes we don’t need in a vain attempt to achieve some low budget version of the lives of the fabulous.

Fortunately for me, I do not have to think about high fashion often. Every now and then I flip through the New York Times fashion section to pop up my blood pressure a little, and we do occasionally discuss creating a wedding dress out of various farm materials–row covers and bug netting and the like. But for the most part fashion tends not to intrude into the life of the farm. In fact, I generally only think about clothes at all because I am wet or cold or have torn large enough holes in my trousers that they are in danger of coming completely apart.

So if I am not thinking about haute couture, what am I thinking about? Well, I do spend some time thinking about food. Which ought to be quite different from high fashion. And mostly it is. I have begun to notice, however, an unsettling trend in cooking. There has always been fancy cooking for rich people, who were after all until quite recently the only people who could afford not just fancy cooks, but also meat and sugar and multiple cooking pots and enough cooking fuel to create multi course meals. And for a long time now there have been little jokes and surprises–one thing disguised as or hiding inside another, daring or challenging combinations, and show stopper dishes. But the food itself was still for the most part just food, and it was made by people who were just cooks.

Now the top chefs are stars creating dining experiences for an insular international foodie elite that demands something new all the time and is willing to pay astronomical prices and travel across oceans for it. Colors and textures are splashed around for effect, the lights dim, scented smoke wafts about, restaurants are done up like sets, people make pretentious statements about time and sex and beauty, celebrities appear in the best seats, and something we all need is transformed into an object designed only to satisfy the wants of those who want for nothing. It all sounds oddly familiar. Haute cuisine has become haute couture.

The most sensible reaction would be to ignore this. If these people want to sit around in the dark savoring gelatin olives on scented pillows, let them, and let the rest of us get on with our simple lives of getting dressed and eating. Leave them alone.

But they don’t leave us alone. It seems that roughly half the fun of inhabiting such an exquisite realm lies in making everyone else envious. How else do you really know it is such a great place to be? Especially since the clothes are ridiculous and the tiny portions of foam and powder and scent leave you hungry. Plus, exciting our envy creates sales opportunities, and what, in the end, could be more fun that making us pay for their unattainable lives?

Unfortunately, one of the flaws of our species is the capacity to slavishly obsess over the lives of the rich and famous, a flaw our culture has learned to exploit masterfully. We are as awash in plutography as we are in pornography.

What to do? Well, short of rounding up the foodies and fashionistas and sending them to some remote island with no cell service, we can try to remind ourselves that sometimes just sitting on a rock watching the sunset or having a slice of good bread and a fresh tomato is not just good enough, but plain and simple good.


Vegetable notes: What made the turnips turn white? Well, that’s a little complicated. Naure? Genetics? Turnip breeders? Probably all of the above. A better question, though, would be why more people don’t eat these white turnips? If they did, the turnip’s reputation would surely soar. You don’t even need to cook them. And the greens are tasty too.

I understand that some people don’t like bitter greens as much as I do, but one should make an exception for escarole. It is too good. And if you steam it first and wring out the moisture it loses a lot of its bitterness. Plus you will find it a lot easier to sauté it properly with olive oil and garlic once you have done that. Just be sure to leave some over to have cold on a sandwich the next day with some roast meat grilled sausage or mozzarella and thinly sliced onion.

The mustard greens are best raw. Add them to a salad. or just make a mustard green salad with a ginger-honey-soy-sesame-rice vinegar dressing.

The Alleged Farm News - 16 June, 2016

This week’s share: Arugula, Beet greens, Dill, Garlic scapes, Lettuce, Onions


A couple of weeks ago we cleaned out the winter kale patch in one of our greenhouses. The kale, inspired by the lengthening daylight, had given up on leaf production and sent up tall spikes of yellow flowers (quite delicious, and sadly rather too delicate to send out in the share). We yanked the plants out by the armful and started tossing them over the fence to the donkeys, who had come to see what treats we had in store for them.

We clean out plants from the greenhouses fairly regularly during the season. We try to keep the houses as full as possible. That quarter acre of soil in the houses–irrigated, protected and heavily amended over the years with tons (literally) of compost is our most productive ground–and our most expensive too, of course, given the cost of the four structures covering it. Making sure we keep those houses full of crops ensures a steady supply of high quality produce and justifies the cost.


So we are often in a house cleaning out some patch to get it ready for another crop, pulling up weeds and stems and bolted plants. And a lot of that material gets fed to the donkeys. Maybe we should compost more of it, turn it back into soil and put it back in the houses. The circle of life and all that. But to do that properly, to create excellent compost rather than a weed mess, takes care and time that we cannot necessarily afford. Plus, the donkeys look so sad when we don’t give them treats, and they have a special tragic bray just in case the gloomy demeanor does not get the point across.

The donkeys get these treats regularly enough that they have learned to wander over and wait hopefully whenever they see us go into the greenhouses. Sometimes we are just going to trellis the tomatoes or transplant or pick and have nothing for them. And sometimes we are pulling out things they won’t like, such as radicchio roots or tomato plants–though they have fairly broad tastes when it comes to plants. They are basically goats. I have seen them contentedly chewing on a length of garden hose.

It seemed perfectly reasonable to think they would like the bolted kale. Especially that early in the season, when the only other things we could offer them were an assortment of small weeds. Armfuls of bolted kale ought to make a donkey happy.

They did not. Sean had already given the donkeys two loads of kale when I went over to the fence. I expected to find them happily browsing on it, but they were standing on the other side of the ditch eyeing me dolefully. It was the sort of look you would get from your kid on Christmas after he has opened the large package that he has every right in the world to think will contain his long hoped for dream toy, only to discover an itchy sweater. It is a look that says this is not merely an outrage, it is an injustice. A grand injustice. Dred Scott. Sacco and Vanzetti. The Holocaust. And now this: stalky kale.

The donkeys stared at me in disgust for a couple of minutes and then just walked away. It did not matter what else we had to offer them that day. It was too late.

I fear sometimes that our CSA shares might get the same response. Not that I am exactly comparing you to a donkey or suggesting that we fill your boxes with armfuls of crops long past their prime. But as we do with the donkeys, we aim to give you things you will enjoy eating–though we understand that, like the donkeys, you may not find everything you get delicious. We all have our tastes. I don’t like every crop we grow. We are fine with the idea that, like the donkeys, you may not enjoy turnips and simply choose to nudge them aside while grazing on your share.

We like to believe, however, that by and large you enjoy the crops we send your way and even anticipate them with some relish. But as the donkeys reminded me, there’s always the chance that, despite our best intentions, we will seriously miscalculate somehow. That’s one of the risks of distributing vegetables the way we do. One of the risks, really, of giving others anything rather than having them get their own stuff.

I will live with the risk. Mostly by doing everything I can to reduce it, such as growing a wide range of crops in a wide range of varieties chosen for their vigor and taste, using growing techniques that enhance those crops without harming the place they grow or the people who eat them, and getting them to you as fresh from our fields as possible. All of which our way of distributing vegetables makes easier for us to do.

Plus, even if we do hand out the itchy sweater equivalent of a crop, we will just keep tossing things over the fence, figuring that in the end we will offer up enough good stuff to make it worth wandering back over.


Vegetable notes: Another leafy start to another season. Welcome to vegetable production in upstate New York. Especially in a season when we have had cold nights nearly all spring. Warm days certainly help, but for some reason, warm nights really make a difference. Maybe plants are shy about growing and prefer to do it in the dark.

Which makes what the onions did all the more surprising. I put transplants in the greenhouse late last fall in order to get an early crop. I though that meant we would have nice young onions some time in early July. But the tops on these guys started to go down (a sign of maturity in onions) several weeks ago. This is the earliest by weeks that I have ever pulled onions. Not that I am complaining. I put onions in just about everything I cook so it is nice to have a fresh crop.

I also put garlic in most dishes. This year’s crop looks good, but it is some week away from being ready. What to do? Well, garlic scapes — those odd curly things in your box — will work nicely. They are milder than the cloves so you can put quite a lot in a dish without getting any overpowering garlic taste. I roasted some cauliflower with sliced scales recently. You can also use them raw. I have put them in various salads. And you can just make a dish of them. Cut them into pieces of whatever size catch your fancy and sauté them in olive oil and salt on medium low heat until they are softened and lightly browned.

The scapes would also be good sautéed with the beet greens. You can use the greens in a salad, but I think they are particularly good steamed and then sautéed with garlic and finished with a bit of vinegar and maybe a touch of hot pepper. You can use the whole plant, roots and all.

2016 Season CSA Shares Available Now

When you join The Alleged Farm CSA you get a weekly box of farm fresh produce in a remarkable array of varieties delivered to a convenient location. We grow 65 crops, including 30 kinds of tomatoes, 10 potatoes, 16 lettuces and five colors of carrots, and we have 11 drop off points around the Capital District. We make it easy for you to eat well.

In addition, you get the weekly farm newsletter, with suggestions about what to do with the crops (and how to identify unusual ones) and opportunities to visit the farm and learn about how your food is grown and who grows it. That’s a connection to what you eat that, unfortunately, most people are no longer afforded. But when you join our CSA, that connection is not just afforded, but affordable. Our share is a great deal on great food.


The Alleged Farm donates 7 tons of food to local groups

We are in the business of feeding people. But not everyone can afford to eat as well or even as much as they should. That means sometimes we make it our business to give away our produce to help those people get the diet they deserve. To that end, we work with three local organizations who can deliver our crops where they are needed: Community Action, Capital Roots and Comfort Food (which is run by former Alleged Farm worker Devin Bulger).

In the course of the 2014 season, we donated about 14,000 pounds of fresh produce to these organization for distribution throughout the region. That’s a pretty big pile of vegetables, and giving it away makes us feel pretty good. We like feeding people.