FARMHOUSE // Volumes 1-6
by Clare Doveton
FARMHOUSE Volumes 1-6
VESECKY FAMILY FARM PACHAMAMA’S TALLGRASS BREWING COMPANY HANK CHARCUTERIE CLARE DOVETON PLUMLEE BUFFALO RANCH DIRTY KANZA LADYBIRD DINER
06 14 22 28 32 42 50 60
all content by Four Birds Media except where noted
(785) 766-5669 info@fourbirdsmedia.com Lawrence / Kansas / America Thank you for reading.
VESECKY FAMILY FARMS // Baldwin City, Kansas
Photos by Dana Hangauer
John Vesecky is a quiet man. He tends to his farm in an unassuming way, dutifully moving from task to task in general calm. His two dogs, a Great Dane and a Labrador, lay in the sun, watching birds scatter into the trees. A handful of barn cats scurry around the edges of his old barn and a goat watches his work. But for the turkeys, all is quiet. Vesecky’s flock of bold, Heritage Turkeys cluck and putt with such volume and determination, it’s hard to have a conversation around them. “Yeah,” John says with a laugh. “They’re pretty loud, and you aren’t going to sneak up on them. I guess after awhile, we just stop hearing them.” For more than a decade, John has been raising turkeys on his land south of Lawrence. What started as a way to feed his family has turned into a variable income. “Well, about 10 years ago my wife and I got a couple of these Heritage turkeys for ourselves,” John says as he wades through a flock of the brown, barking birds. “We’ve always enjoyed eating turkey and have plenty of land here, so we figured ‘Why not’? I think we sold one or two that first year, just because we knew we couldn’t eat them all. That’s when we had the idea that maybe we should get a few more the following year.”
As years passed and sales grew, the Veseckeys increased their annual flock. Now John, with help from his wife, Sharon and son, William, raises Heritage and Broad-Breasted White turkeys on his nearly 300-acre spread. Heritage turkeys are the larger, ‘traditional’ birds. White turkeys, according to John, look like “big, funny looking chickens.” The farm raised more than 550 (175 Heritage) turkeys for the 2013 Holiday season. “Really, they’re not that difficult to raise,” John says with his omnipresent, matter-of-fact tone. The timing is different for Heritage and White turkeys, but the farm generally gets chicks when they are less than a month old. The two flocks are kept indoors and under warming lamps for a few weeks. When the birds are strong enough to graze, John moves to separate pastures on his land. The Heritage turkeys graze on the southern area of the farm. Feeders are abundant and trees shade
the birds in the warmer summer months. Often, John has a few goats in the same large area. The birds are fenced in, but that rarely keeps all the turkeys contained. The more curious birds often jump over the 5-foot metal fence and roam the yard. “We do have to keep an eye on them,” John says with a laugh. “As long as they don’t wonder across the road and near the creek, they should be alright. If a bird gets out, they don’t go too far. I’ve never had much of a problem getting them back in.” The Broad-Breasted White turkeys pasture on the northern part of the Veseckey farm. While the birds are still young, John grows patches of millet in the pasture. As the birds mature, they eat the crop to supplement their diet. The birds are fenced in a large area that holds half-dozen feeders. The wild grass has been eaten, and the grass on the outside of the fence, as far past the fence as a turkey’s neck can reach, has been picked. The White turkeys run in flocks around the pasture and investigate anything new in the area. John says the threat of a coyote or fox is always present, but he hasn’t had much trouble with either. “I can’t remember a coyote or fox ever giving us trouble,” he says. “We’ve had some bobcats get in the pasture and bug the birds a bit. They turkeys certainly don’t like that. Last summer a skunk got through the fence and created a pretty big mess. Other than that, we’ve been pretty lucky. Well, the turkeys have been pretty lucky.” Pans a turkey feed are spread around each pasture. Both the Heritage and White turkeys eat the same feed. Vesecky estimates the farm goes through 20-22 tons of turkey feed from early summer to late November. The feed is a combination of grains and proteins, and does not contain antibiotics. “We never force feed them, or make them eat or lock them up to eat,” John says. “They are natural grazers, so we make sure they have plenty of places in their pasture to find food and water. I guess we’ve never had too much trouble selling our turkeys, even the smaller ones, so we figure we don’t have to stress them by making them eat. We’ll have big birds and some smaller ones, so we
can fill almost any order. I know some other farms do all they can to get their birds fat. We just don’t do that.” As the birds age and the busy holiday season approaches, John decreases the percentage of protein in the birds’ feed. The method was developed over that past decade. “I talked a lot with the people with the State of Kansas, in the agriculture department and I’ve had long conversations with the turkey guy over at KState. I’m always learning, but these birds are always eating their feed, so I must be doing something right.” John said he can’t remember loosing a bird to illness in the 10 years he’s been raising turkeys. In fact, the biggest threat to the turkeys isn’t illness or a hungry coyote. “I tell you, these birds can be mean to each other,” John says. “They sure can pick out the weak one in the flock, and then they harass and harass it. Poor thing never stands a chance.” Though the Heritage turkeys are the more traditional Thanksgiving bird, John says he sells about twice as many White turkeys. “If you are looking for a picture of a turkey, you will always pick the Heritage,” he explains. “But most people who have eaten both the Heritage and the White turkeys order a White because they have less dark meat. Me? I don’t care either way. Just roast it and put it on my plate.” The majority of the Vesecky turkey’s are sold to regional restaurants and grocery stores, though John says they really enjoy selling individual birds to people. His family has been active in the Kaw Valley Farm tour for a number of years, and John says that has been his biggest form of advertising. “When people come out here, they get to see the turkeys in the pasture and watch them walk freely and jump and cluck,” he explains. “This isn’t anything like those factory farms that are on the news. We really care for these birds and try to keep them as comfortable as possible while we have them. I think consumers appreciate that and have shown us that by spending a little bit more to buy a turkey from us.” FH
PACHAMAMA’S // Lawrence, Kansas
KEN BAKER COOKS FOR HIMSELF.
His dishes at Pachamama’s are a reflection of his culinary training, Midwest roots and DIY attitude. Baker mixes local ingredients, adventurous ideas and exotic finds to create wholesome New American plates. He doesn’t look to start trends; he makes what he wants to eat. Baker taught himself to cook as a teenager. By spending time in the kitchen, he taught himself enough to start a small catering company in high school and he enjoyed some moderate success. “Well, that first paid gig was from my dad’s friends,” Baker says. “But we got some more deals after that and had a nice little run. Granted, I really had no idea what I was doing, but we made it work.” Baker’s life after high school culminated in one basic decision. “I could cook or I could join the military,” Baker says with no hint of irony. “I chose to cook.” Baker enrolled at KU and found a job on the line at Teller’s, quickly moving up ranks to kitchen manager. He managed that kitchen for 3 years, but things didn’t always go smoothly.
“My first day, literally my first half hour, I almost cut my finger off,” Baker says. “I’m not sure how I managed to bandage it well enough to hide the cut, but I just kept working.” Baker knew he would make his living in the kitchen, and he knew he wanted to do it right, so he enrolled in the San Francisco Bay area’s prestigious California Culinary Academy. He graduated, with honors, in 1999. He headed to New Orleans to work with Chef Daniel Bonnot at Bizou Restaurant. At that point, he needed a break. “I’d been going at it hard since high school,” Baker says. “I needed a break to figure out what I was going to do next.” He traveled for a few months throughout Australia and New Zealand and then found himself back in his father’s house in St. Louis. He was sending resumes across the country, looking for an opportunity to get back into the kitchen when he heard that an old friend needed some help with his restaurant in Lawrence. “My first gig with Pachamama’s was a 2-week job to help them during a pinch during the spring of 1999,” Ken says with a slight smile. “Well, I’m still here.”
Ken worked on staff for a time, and then was able to implement his ideas and soon take over operating control of the business. He hasn’t looked backed. He moved the restaurant from its former West Lawrence location to his building on the corner of 8th and New Hampshire in 2006. Business has grown to welcome much more walkup traffic, more bar business, an expansive catering outlet and a large event space. “This space has allowed me to really control the whole show,” Baker says. “I don’t know if I’m a control freak, but I know how I want things to be done. My ass is on the line here, so I’m going to make sure we run the best restaurant we can.” In the nearly 10 years since the downtown space opened, it has become a Lawrence staple. The building is recognizable, accessible and almost always busy. Pachamama’s sleek space is banked on two sides by walls of windows that look onto downtown Lawrence. The modern design of the restaurant is offset by the work of local artists and the music of a jazz pianist. A typical Saturday night crowd offers a great crosssection of Lawrence. One table will have two couples, dressed to the nines, enjoying cocktails and entrees; at another table sits a musician in a black t-shirt, jeans and Vans sneakers. Pachamama’s attracts both hypercritical food snobs expecting the best meal in Lawrence and blue collars looking for a welcoming bartender. By catering to himself, Baker has created a space that all of Lawrence can appreciate. Baker rubs his tattooed forearm and sets down the coffee mug decorated with fliers from old punk rock shows. “I fucking hate pretension,” he says. “I don’t want people to think of our place as pretentious. Yes, we serve really good food. We use really good ingredients and we take this shit very seriously, and we charge for that, but we’re not snobs. Pretentious restaurants drive me crazy.” Baker changes his menu seasonally, always pushing himself and his staff to make the most of the most local seasonal ingredients. To the blandest palate, Pachamama’s menu might seem overwhelming, but Baker insists that his dishes are accessible and understated. “Our food is, in many ways, very traditional,” Baker says. “I went through my phase of trying to educate the
audience with overtly adventurous dishes. I don’t do that anymore. ” Baker laughs as he tells stories of menu items that he was going to serve “whether they like it or not!” But at the end of the night, if the trashcan is full of half-full plates, things have to change. “You know, we’re a restaurant. If people don’t like the food, then we have a problem.” Baker doesn’t compromise on quality, but has learned what he can do to satisfy his culinary creativity and create memorable meals. His menu has the stables: steaks, seafood and the phenomenal Star Bar Burgers. The most popular dishes are almost always the seasonal plates featuring local produce and proteins. “Using locally sourced ingredients is one of the tenants of our business,” Baker says emphatically. “Whenever we can we source locally. Of course I like to support my neighbors financially, but really it’s a matter of quality control for me. I can hit the Farmers’ Market in the morning and plate that afternoon. Then I can drive to the farm the next day and talk to the growers about their business. Having those relationships helps plan menus for the upcoming season. I’ll know what will be harvested and ready to purchase.” Now 15 years into Pachamama’s, Baker hasn’t tired of the day-to-day grind of the restaurant business. In fact, he thinks things are just getting started. “I think the public is now becoming more educated on food and food-related ideas,” he says. “The entire farm-to- table movement is really positive and I think will only help our restaurant, other great local restaurants and local food producers. Also, I think more people are willing to try new dishes. That also opens a lot of doors for us.” Baker says he’s gotten pretty good at identifying young talent, and that that has allowed him some time to step back from the kitchen galley. “I’m still in there grinding,” he says. “But now I focus a little more on helping these other guys get better at what they are trying to do. I think I’m a little more open to accepting some ideas for dishes. When one of my guys comes up with something new, it’s just the best. I’ll let them cook for me any day.” FH
Tallgrass Brewing Company // Manhattan, Kansas
photos by Tasha Keathley-Helms
Jeff Gill starting making beer as a hobby in his garage. He has turned that hobby into Tallgrass Brewing Company, a Manhattan-based burgeoning regional craft beer player. And yes, he understands how cool that is. “I definitely know I’m living a pretty great life,” Gill says with one of his big laughs. “I think that’s kind of the dream. You know, start your own brewery and get to make beer for a living. I can tell you though, this wasn’t some happy accident. When I decided to get serious about brewing, I knew I had to have a plan to make it work. We’re working that plan now.” Jeff is a bit of an oxymoron. He clearly likes to laugh. Spending time with him in the Tallgrass offices rarely does a minute go by without him laughing about something. He has a broad smile that rarely leaves his face. But Gill is the type of man that is capable of stepping back and appreciating what he has. He also knows he has created his life through a combination of hard work and well-thought decisions. There is no “flying by the seat of our pants” at Tallgrass. Gill was born and raised in small-town Kansas. He has an appreciation for the blood, sweat and fears that go into making a living working the soil. After graduating from Kansas State with a geology degree, Gill set out to conquer the rocks of the world. He worked stints in the Utah oil industry before finding his was back to Kansas and settling in Topeka. It was there that the spark of home brewing really started to ignite. “My boss in Topeka was a phenomenal brewer,” Gill says. “He took the idea seriously and was instrumental in getting me on the right track. Because of me being the way I am, I really got into it. Soon I stopped thinking about making a few bottles to have for myself and started focusing on how I could make the best possible beer.” The more serious Gill grew about brewing, the more he thought about making it a career. “Finally, one night at dinner with my wife, Tricia just looked at me and said: ‘So what do you want to do with the rest of your life?’” Gill says with a laugh. “Obviously I hadn’t hid my desire very well. But we decided that night that we were going to open a microbrewery.” Gill knew on thing for sure. “I knew that if we were going to do this, the only place I wanted to do it was in Manhattan,” Gill says. “We both wanted to return here. We want to raise our daughters here. And this is the only community I wanted to open a brewery. This area of the state is gorgeous. The people are the salt of the earth. And, maybe most importantly, the mineral content of the water is absolutely perfect to use in brewing beer.” Gill found some investors, a spot on the east side of Manhattan and, in 2007, started brewing beer.
To say that the road from the first bottled beer in 2007 to being distributed in 14 states was smooth would be misleading. Of course trouble occurred and beer was spilled. More than once Gill found himself in the brewery alone at night wondering just what the hell he had done. Those moments faded quickly though. “Like I said, I had a very well-thought-out business plan,” Gill says. “I knew this was an enormous risk and I knew that if I screwed it up I would be financially spent. So I didn’t fuck around. I got to work and built a company.” A moment of clarity came in 2010. Tallgrass had been bottling their brews and hadn’t considered another option. One afternoon Gill heard from a Tallgrass fan in southwest Kansas who didn’t have access to a recycling center for his bottles. He wanted to ship them back to Manhattan for the brewery to reuse. Gill instinctively knew there had to be a better way. “To be honest, I hadn’t ever thought about using anything but bottles,” he says. “I did a bunch of research and it was amazing. Cans are less expensive to produce and less expensive to ship and they are easier to recycle. It was a no-brainer.” The Tallgrass “canifesto” was adopted. Since making the switch 16-ounce cans in 2010, Tallgrass’ annual sales revenues have increased by an average of 72 percent each year. Yes, 72 percent. “We’ve been able to get into certain markets almost solely because we use cans,” Gill says. “A lot of distributors and stores appreciate the cans because they are easier for them to handle and consumers really like the 16-ounce can size.” Gill says the crew at Tallgrass likes to keep things simple. They don’t create a new beer just for fun. They create a new beer because they have a distinct idea for a brew, and work for months to perfect the product. Tallgrass offers 5 yearround beers and 3 or 4 seasonal brews. The best-selling beer is 8-Bit. A “Hop-Rocket” infuses the character of Australian grown Galaxy Hops into an American Pale Ale, with a unique tropical, almost melon aroma in a classic American style. The future for Tallgrass is very, very bright. The company is in the process of relocating to a significantly larger space in Manhattan and plans are in the works for Gill and a partner to open The Tallgrass Taphouse, a brewpub and full-service restaurant opening in downtown Manhattan. “The new location is exciting because we are just outgrowing this space,” Gill says. “The restaurant is a work in progress. It will celebrate Kansas, good beer and good people. It will be realization of our main goal. We want to bring people together over a great beer. We brew the beers you want to drink with your best friends.” FH
Hank Charcuterie // Lawrence, Kansas
Chef Vaughn Good is an artist and his tool is a sharp knife. At his shop, Hank Charcuterie (1900 Massachusetts St, Lawrence), Good artfully butchers beef, sheep, lamb, hogs, turkeys, chickens and duck. He is silent and efficient. His shop is open to the public and Good carves carcasses without a care of who watches. When he butchers a side of lamb, he isn’t putting on a show; he’s getting the job done. “I’m not here to prepare fancy or obnoxious dishes,” Good says with a nonchalant tone. “I’m here to give Lawrence the best meat available. Lawrence has been very supportive of locally produced food, but high quality meat hasn’t been very accessible. I’m working to change that.” Good spent the better part of the last year refurbishing the quaint building on the busy corner lot into a butcher shop and restaurant. About a quarter of the space is dedicated to patrons and a service counter. The bulk of the building serves as a kitchen, cooler and carving station. The space, much like Good, is informal and unpretentious. “I want this place to be like a throwback to when everyone knew their neighborhood butcher,” Good says. “I think we can get back to that sense of community and knowing where our food comes from.” Good sells only locally sourced meats and fresh plates. The menu changes daily and completely relies on what meat the shop has in the cooler. Daily specials range from Smoked Oxtail or Lamb Pate Pain Perdu to Sea Island Peas or a Hank Burger on a “shitty” bun. The dishes Good serves are rich, simple and often old fashioned. Good works with smoke and coal and wood and fire. He strives to keep things as simple and flavorful as possible. “I don’t wont to complicate anything here,” Good says. “The meat and produce we’re working with is so good and so fresh, that sometimes I think it’s best just to get out of the way and let the ingredients do the work. I think people appreciate that.” Though his cooking is often simple, Good’s training is not. Good spent the previous 3 years working the line at Pachamama’s. Before that he earned a degree from the
International Culinary Institute in New York City. It was while in New York that Good started to focus on the art of charcuterie. That focus developed into a passion and then an idea. “While I was at Pach I started to work a lot of charcuterie into the menu,” Good says. “Ken (Baker, Pachamama’s owner) was great about letting me try new things with meats and charcuterie. Anytime I had the chance to work on a charcuterie project I really got into it. After awhile I just decided it was time for me to see what I could do to challenge myself. I started to focus on opening this shop.” Since opening this summer, business at the corner shop has been very good. “To be honest, business has been even better than expected,” Good says with a slight smile. “It’s not uncommon for us to sell out of certain cuts of meat, which is a good problem to have.” Interest in the shop and Good’s work with the knife has been so high that he recently began offering butchering demonstrations. Once a week or so Good announces what he’s cutting and welcomes whomever would like to watch. “People are really interested in the process of breaking down an animal,” Good explains. “If people want to watch me work, that’s really cool. We want people to have a better understanding and appreciation of where their food comes from and how much work goes into preparing a lamb chop or making sausage.“ That appreciation for locally sourced food is the main reason located his shop at 19th and Massachusetts in Lawrence. The neighborhood is experiencing a boutique food shop boom. “With us and Alchemy Coffee and 1900 Barker down the block, we are forming this really great neighborhood, food hub,” Good says. “It’s pretty cool that we are all doing our own things, and those things can all be combined to create something pretty cool.” FH
CLARE DOVETON // Lawrence, Kansas
31
“The Drift of Things”
“To the New Year”
When did you begin painting and what attracted you to the art form? I started painting seriously when I moved to New York City in 1994. Painting just works for me over other art forms. It is contemplative and meditative, and oils in particular are wonderfully malleable. Oils take to my messiness and mishaps; I feel we sort of work together and eventually stumble onto something. When that “something� hits, everything rings clear like a gong. It is pure magic. What about the landscape of the Great Plains and Kansas inspires you? What attracts you to the subject? I lived in New York City and San Francisco for about 11 years. Living in big cities, buildings and congestion and endless advertising eat up your horizon line. I painted abstractly for the most part, I think because everything around me was a buzz. Life felt very fast. I worked countless hours to afford whatever tiny apartment I never had time to be in. I was up late and wore heels and never set foot on grass. A few years after the birth of my first son, I moved back to Kansas and I eventually ended up renting a farmhouse in the middle of a cornfield. And everything slowed down. I feel like I really tuned into the sky for the first time - the earth too, for that matter. There was just nothing in the way for as far as the eye could see. There was just The Whole Sky. My husband and I had our second son out there and spent most of our time just tending to the land. We kept chickens and ducks and tried to grow our food. I had a studio in one of the outbuildings for a while. Painting and life are one in the same, so that is what poured out. We lived out there for about six years and just moved back to town. So the work is beginning to morph again to reflect this new thing. How do you describe your work? I work mostly from memories (rather than from photographs or on-site) of spaces and of light, and I think that this gives the work a lucid and atmospheric quality. These are memories of where home lies, or what I drove by earlier that day, or a moment where the light struck me. There is this feeling of great space between things in Kansas, and I think that comes through. The work is very much guided by what I am seeped in. Whether I am living in a cornfield on a farm, or on this hill in town, plays a part. What I am reading shines through for me, and often finds its way into the title of the piece. Whether it is autumn or winter. If I am broke or carefree. Whether there is Arvo Part or Patti Smith on the stereo. All things play a role. The work is moment minded. Do you paint landscapes other than rural scenes? The most recent work is influenced by our move to the top of 9th Street here in Lawrence. Our house sits on top of the hill and looks toward downtown. In past works I always scraped in a few lines with various tools to loosely represent lines in the fields or telephone wires, etc., but can now see cell towers and perhaps even
“While You Were Sleeping”
“The Light Burns Dim”
roads forming. The color in the work has changed - the skies are stark and the light has dimmed. The horizon line here in town is so different. And the canvases seem darker now, though that often happens to my work in the winter. Can you describe your process? For instance, do you see a scene and decide to paint it, or do you imagine a scene and then put it to canvas? I start each piece with an under-painting – something messy and colorful and not terribly thought-out covering the entire canvas. There is no right side up. In fact, there probably won’t be until close to the end. I am constantly flipping the works on the floor. I use thinned pigments to build up layers and layers, as the shape of the painting sort of builds. I often scrape lines in with a knife or other tool to separate planes or find balance in the work and to also loosely represent something manmade. Most of the lines get painted over, but some feel crucial and those will stay. I try to stay pretty wide open. The whole magic of painting is in not knowing what the exact outcome will be. And it’s not always up to me anyway. I am looking for the paint to do something I haven’t seen before or to make a new mark. Some days it does, and others it doesn’t, and I have to keep trying to find a way in. What is your typical timeline, from start to finish? That really depends on the flow of things. And how strict my deadline is! I have finished a painting in a few hours and I have also taken years on a single piece. I would say two to four weeks is a good guess for a larger work. What percentage of your work is commissioned? I would guess about a quarter of what I produce currently is commissioned work. They are often for corporate collections, but also for private collectors looking to fill a specific (usually large) space. When taking on a commission, it’s important to me when possible to see where it will hang so I can get a sense of the light at different times of the day and see what else is in the space to make sure the flow and color is right. I really enjoy them. Its so interesting to start a piece knowing where it will land. Each one is it’s own challenge. Clare is currently represented by Weinberger Fine Art in Kansas City, Missouri, and Strecker–Nelson Gallery in Manhattan, Kansas. www.claredoveton.com
PLUMLEE BUFFALO RANCH // Alma, Kansas
Larry Plumlee doesn’t want people to think that he doesn’t work hard. Clearly, tending to a 400-acre ranch and maintaining a herd of 75 buffalo isn’t easy. The thing is, Larry says, it’s just not all that hard. “It’s surprising how easy it is to maintain these buffalo,” Larry says with a laugh. “If I had known then what I know now, I would have been raising buffalo all along.” Larry and his wife Shirley operate Plumlee Buffalo Ranch just north of Alma, Kansas. “These animals, really, are so self-sufficient,” Larry says. “We’ve been doing this almost 15 years. We haven’t had a veterinarian out here once. Not one time. And we’ve never lost an animal because of sickness and we’ve never vaccinated an animal. They don’t need it. These animals are almost bulletproof, really. I feed them Safeguard granular wormer mixed with grain twice a year and that’s it. We’ve learned how to keep them happy and they return the favor.” The Plumlees started raising buffalo after Larry broke his back falling from a horse. For years the couple had operated multiple cattle and horse ranches just outside of Manhattan, Kansas. After the fall, Larry knew he needed to make a change. The Plumlees did extensive research, sold their cattle and horses and invested in a few bison. “We really enjoy these buffalo,” Shirley says. “People don’t believe us when we tell them how docile and low maintenance they are. But, like Larry said, they are very peaceful creatures. They protect their area and protect their calves. At this point they trust us almost completely. We knew when we started raising buffalo that if we ever mistreated them, they would never trust us again. We take good care of the herd.” The herd is led by Samson, the 2,700-pound bull. Samson is an enormous animal. His size makes him unmistakable in the herd. He towers over the calves and young bulls. He’s responsible for the growth of the herd. “Yeah, Samson has a pretty good life,” Larry says with a big laugh. “Shirley says it’s Samson and his harem. He’s a big, big boy, but he does his job well. Our herd has grown because he’s happy and healthy.”
Calves are born in late spring. In stark contrast to cattle operations, calving season on the Plumlee ranch is stress free. “To be honest, we go on vacation during calving season,” Shirley says. “We’ll leave the ranch for a week or so and come back to 15 or so new calves. We’ve never had any trouble during calving season.” The herd spend the spring, summer and fall seasons roaming 400 acres of rolling Flint Hills pasture. They graze on grass and hay, rambling the ranch freely. The sight of the herd spread across a dozen acres underneath a big Kansas sky is nothing short of majestic. It’s easy to forget the buffalo aren’t wild. When winter storms roll through, the herd makes its way to the corral closer to the Plumlee home. Larry lays out hay across the snow and the buffalo use trees for windbreaks. Larry and Shirley use a local processor and harvest between 15 and 18 buffalo a year. The meat is sold through regional Hy-Vee stores, local co-ops and their own small shop in their home. Larry says their biggest client is a regional company that sells buffalo burgers at state and county fairs. “It’s not a fair in Kansas without a Buffalo Burger from Plumlee Ranch,” he says. An unexpected benefit to running a successful buffalo ranch in Kansas is the tourist. That’s right, tourists. “Initially, we thought it was surprising how many people stopped by just to see the buffalo,” Shirley says. “When the herd was smaller we’d have people stop along the road a lot. When they started knocking on our door we knew we had to manage the crowds.” Now the Plumlees accommodate as many hands-on tours of the ranch as they can. They charge a nominal amount for adults and require reservations. Seeing so many people engaged and interested in the buffalo energizes Larry. As a former Army helicopter pilot, Larry says they donate much of the money generated from tours to help with the Wounded Warrior foundation at Fort Riley. “I love having families out here,” Larry says. “For kids, being outside and close to the buffalo has to be better than staring at a screen all day.” FH
THE DIRTY KANZA 200 Emporia / Kansas
photo by Dave Leiker
There comes a point in every rider’s journey through the Dirty Kanza when a decision has to be made.
So in 2006, 34 riders started from Emporia on the 200mile course. Expectations were low.
“Absolutely the first time you ride the Kanza you have a tipping point,” says four-time race champion Dan Hughes. “You stop thinking about winning or setting a personal record or anything like that. At some point during the day, or night, you ask yourself ‘Do I have what it takes to finish?’ You really begin to question and challenge yourself.”
“Well, we really didn’t know if anyone would be crazy enough to join us,” Cummins says with a big laugh. “I think 15 people finished that year, but almost everyone that started said they would be back. So, we decided we should do it again. At this point I think we’ve found the perfect balance of anguish and support.”
The Dirty Kanza is a 200-mile gravel road bike race that winds through the Flint Hills. Over the past 10 years the race has grown from a novel idea between two friends to an internationally recognized test of personal endurance. To some, it’s a cool bike race. To the growing number of cyclists that plan their year around racing the event, it is a metaphor for life in the great state of Kansas. “We never really set out to make the race some sort of epic event,” say Jim Cummins, event co-founder. “It was just a fun idea between a couples of friends.” Cummins and his friend (and Kanza co-founder) Joel Dyke were both active bike racers. They had an idea to start a race comparable to a 300-mile race in Iowa, but just couldn’t find the right route in Kansas. “We knew we wanted a one-day race and initially thought about a race across the state from East to West,” Cummins explains. “But we know that would be too much. Then we planned a route starting at the Oklahoma border going north to the Nebraska border. That seemed more reasonable, but the logistics of starting at one end of the state and ending at another just didn’t make sense. That’s when we had the idea to check out the Flint Hills.” Cummins had grown up in the Flint Hills of east central Kansas and had been riding gravel roads for years. One weekend he and Joel set out from Emporia on their bikes to explore the roads. “It was almost instantaneous,” Cummins says with excitement. “About an hour into the ride we both knew this was the course. We knew the Flint Hills were the perfect environment for the race we had in mind. The idea to form a loop made the logistics easy. Start and finish at the same point. We decided on a 200-mile race because we wanted it to be more challenging than a century ride, but unique from a 300-mile race. The distance is far enough that it is a major challenge, but still achievable. Our goal has always been to provide a life-enriching cycling experience. We knew the Flint Hills would help us do that.”
This year, during the event’s 10-year celebration, nearly 2000 riders lined up in downtown Emporia to start the race. An indication of just how much the race has grown: the event now features a 200-mile course, a 100-mile course and a “DK Light” 20-mile route. “It’s hard to not ride the Kanza,” explains Hughes, who owns Sunflower Outdoor and Bike Shop in Lawrence. “I sat out one year and worked support for some friends. About 20 minutes into the race I knew I would be back on the bike the next year.” According to both Cummins and Hughes, the draw isn’t so much the fun of the race, but the challenge. “I know it’s so rewarding to finish,” Cummins says. “To know you’ve completed something that most other people would ever consider starting is an incomparable feeling.” Hughes says that, as the race has grown to gain international attention, the perception of Kansas has changed. “Kansas, as a cycling destination, is vastly underrated,” Hughes says. “Nobody, I mean nobody, that rides the Kanza thinks this state is flat. That course can be, at times, brutal. It’s isolating and challenging. The wind and the heat can just beat you down. This year, with all the rain, it was a special kind of brutal. I know this year it devolved into a survival. It was rough.” Cummins says the emails and letters he receives after the race make the months of planning worth it. “Every year, without fail, we’ll get a few letters and emails from riders,” Cummins says. “People will write that they didn’t know what to expect from the experience, but that they have learned things about themselves that they will carry into their lives as spouses, parents, employees and citizens. People write about how they dug deeper than they ever had before. Finishing the Dirty Kanza is not an easy accomplishment, and we never intended to make it easy. Hearing that riders appreciate the challenge always makes the effort worth it.” FH
LADYBIRD DINER // Lawrence / Kansas
Lady Bird Diner began in the kitchen of another restaurant, just down the street. Actually, it got its start somewhere along the road between bars. Or maybe it was at a grandma’s worn kitchen table. A few years ago, when Meg Heriford was working at 715 in Lawrence, she had the idea to try selling slices of pie on the weekend. “It wasn’t a ground-breaking idea,” Meg says with her omnipresent grin. “I mean, it’s pie. Who doesn’t enjoy a good piece of pie?” The first pie Meg baked at 715 sold in a few hours. The following weekend, she baked more pies, which also sold out. It wasn’t long until Meg’s idea of an entire restaurant based around her home-style, grandma’s-house cooking gained support from the partners at 715. When a building down the street became available, the group got busy. “I like to think of my pies as very welcoming,” Meg explains. “I want you to feel joy and happiness when you’re eating. That’s the approach I take with all the food we serve here at the diner. I knew if we executed the idea well, Lawrence was the type of place that would embrace a good ole’ fashion diner.” Ladybird Diner is an idea as much as it is a restaurant. The building is busy at all times. Waitresses move quickly from table to table and cooks shout orders from behind the tiny grill station. Customers are greeted not with a generic hello, but with a genuine “welcome!” The space recalls the feeling of both the great American Diner and your grandmother’s house. And music is always playing and it’s generally playing loud. “I always have to have some rock ‘n’ roll around me,” Meg says emphatically. “Always.” Though she claims to be “a student of grandma’s best dishes,” Meg is no slouch in the kitchen (just
Google “Mama Meg Food Network”). The idea, however, of fusion cooking and meticulously plating every ingredient of each entrée is not her style. For Meg, diner food is its own culinary art. A well-cooked plate of meatloaf is an offering from her to you. Her food is about the heart. “I’ve travelled a lot of this country,” Meg explains. “Whenever we get to a new city, I don’t look for the 4-star restaurant. I look for the diner. That’s how you get to know a place. Eating good food at a diner and being around the diner crowd in a city is a great way to experience the real heartbeat of a place.” A few months after Ladybird opened, a kitchen fire in an adjacent building caused excessive smoke damage to the restaurant. The diner had to shut down for five months. “Ugh, that was a punch in the gut,” Meg says, still with a pain in her voice. “At the time it was devastating. We had just started to get our feet under us, and we had to close for five months. But, in hindsight, it gave a chance to catch our breath and really get our act together. I think we’re a better restaurant now. Oh, and we started making donuts. So that’s a good thing.” The diner reopened in August to a fury of community support. And, as Meg says, adding morning donuts to their classic American Diner menu didn’t hurt. “The goal here is simple’, Meg says. “If you walk through our doors, you are a guest and a friend. We will serve you a hardy meal, poor you a hot cup of coffee or a cold beer and do our part to make your day just a little bit better.” FM
C Four Birds Media / 2016