The Northwest Connecticut Food Hub connects regional farmers with wholesale customers, even during these winter months when local food is harder to come by.
Farmers list available items each week on the hub’s online platform — at this time of year mostly roots, squash, apples, mushrooms and greens. Restaurants, schools, grocery stores, and food pantries can go online and order aggregated items from multiple farms for delivery.
If one farm only has butternut squash left in storage from the fall harvest, another might be flush with arugula coming out of a winterized greenhouse, while another still has beets in the cooler. Alone, each crop might be hard to sell or hard to use, but put them together in a restaurant’s shopping cart through the Hub’s online platform and you have a winter salad special on the menu.
The Food Hub is a locally developed spin on a more typical industrial food distribution model where large farms that specialize in one item or another ship their crops to warehouses to be repackaged and trucked off to retail grocery stores or food service venues.
By the very nature of our region’s topography, farms are relatively small and far from customers. Valleys and slopes don’t make for wide, expansive fields, and quiet windy roads often set farmers at a distance from population centers. Growing a diverse range of crops is good for the soil and for business resiliency — if a crop is a flop one year, there are others that likely did well. All of these factors make for colorful, bucolic farm landscapes throughout Northwest Connecticut, but they also present local farmers with a significant marketing challenge, and local buyers with the significant logistical question of how to access fresh, local food.
The Food Hub began operations in 2017 as a project supported by the region’s economic development plan to help bridge these gaps between the unique growers we have in our region and potential customers. It is an initiative of the nonprofit Partners for Sustainable Healthy Communities, whose board oversees operations. Day-to-day management of the Hub falls to Renee Giroux, a farmer herself who knows firsthand the challenges and opportunities of farmers in the area.
“The Hub helps with distribution while lifting everyone up,” said Giroux. “It isn’t a place where farms are in competition with one another, but rather gives them an additional outlet to expand their businesses into.”
Photo by Janna Siller
Locally grown produce aggregated at the food hub for delivery to a local food pantry.
While some buyers, like restaurants and grocery stores, pay full wholesale prices for the farm products, others have their deliveries subsidized by different grants. The Hub cobbles together a number of funding sources to allow them to work with schools, food pantries and health care facilities. Ed-Advance, an education nonprofit, helps fund farm-to-school initiatives facilitated by the Hub. A community wellness grant allows diabetes patients to receive produce prescription deliveries through Hartford Healthcare. Community foundations support food pantry purchases.
“Individual farmers don’t have time to navigate all the potential funding sources that can help expand their markets,” said Food Hub board member Jocelyn Ayer. “That’s where the Hub comes in. We work with partners to secure funding for a wide range of projects.”
On a frigid December day, Susan Zappulla-Peters arrived bright and early at the Hub’s Torrington warehouse with a delivery of radishes and scallions from the farm her son manages, Maple Bank Farm in Roxbury. “The first time I delivered here, I was so inspired by what Renee is doing that I asked if I could help. Now I volunteer every week after I drop off Maple Bank’s produce.”
Zappula-Peters spent the morning receiving produce off farmers’ pickup trucks and compiling orders as generated onto lists by the online purchase platform. The pallets quickly filled up with food, including apples from March Farm in Bethlehem; carrots and cabbage from Vibrant Farm in Bantam; and sweet potatoes and potatoes from River Bank Farm in Roxbury. Zappula-Peters helped Giroux and driver Stuart Rabinowitz load a van headed for a delivery route that included Charlotte Hungerford Hospital, the Corner Food Pantry in Lakeville, and Fishes and Loaves Food Pantry in North Canaan.
“I love that this food, the best our region has to offer, is reaching people who wouldn’t otherwise be able to access it,” said Zappula-Peters in between moving pallets.
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Izzy Fitch at Battle Hill Forge in Wassaic.
The giant metal mantis, built by artist Jim Hackett, is now part of a summer contest Fitch devised. He’ll strap it to the roof rack of his car and drive it around. When people spot it, they can take a photo, post it on social media and tag @battlehillforge, @lakevillejournal and @themillertonnews. At the end of the contest, names will be drawn at random and gift certificates to Battle Hill Forge will be awarded.
“It’s just for fun,” said Fitch, whose work often blurs the boundaries between art, utility and play. “Who couldn’t use more fun these days?”
Fitch moves through his sprawling workshop spaces like an enthusiastic museum guide leading visitors through a collection he forgot he owned. Every few steps, something catches his attention. A hand-forged daffodil. A dragonfly. A prototype trellis. A powder horn his great-grandfather taught him to make. A concrete toad inherited from his grandmother.
“Oh, this is cool,” he says, veering off course.
A few minutes later:
“Oh, I forgot to show you this.”
Then:
“You want to see something really cool?”
The tour never quite follows a straight line.
Neither does Fitch.
Long before Battle Hill Forge became known for custom gates, garden structures and sculpture found everywhere from private estates to major cultural institutions, Fitch was a child building armor for toy animals.
“I had a Black Panther that was this big and I armored it,” he says, holding his hands a few inches apart. “I made all my little people and creatures, and I armored them all up and I made all the weapons for them.”
Fitch’s father was a logger. Tools were plentiful. Toys were not.
“He wouldn’t buy us toys really, so we would have to make our own.”
The family business, if there was one, was making things.
Izzy FitchNatalia Zukerman
His great-grandfather was a master craftsman who made Windsor chairs in collaboration with his uncle, Bert Fitch. His father supplied the raw materials, Bert made the chairs, his great-grandfather carved the spindles. His relatives were renowned woodworkers. People would travel from far and wide to have his great grandfather make handles for them.
“I really learned a lot from spending time with my grandparents and my great-uncles,” he says.
Today, that inheritance is visible everywhere inside the forge.
Giant steel pumpkins wait beside elegant peony supports. Honeycomb sculptures support an endearing bee also made by Hackett. Giant orbs loom playfully. Metal mushrooms, used in classes Fitch teaches to children, line the windowsills.
Many are prototypes Some are commissions. Some exist simply because Fitch thought they might be fun to make.
“I just think of something cool,” he says. And then he makes it.
“Most of the metalworkers that I work with don’t want to talk to people,” he says. “They’re like, ‘Just tell us what you want. Give me the plans and I’ll make it.’”
Fitch is different. Part craftsman and part translator, he enjoys helping clients discover what they want before it exists.
Unless, of course, he’s distracted by a frog story.
The previous Battle Hill Forge location, in Millerton, included a small pond where Fitch often ate lunch.
“There was a dead mouse out there one time,” he recalls. “This frog was so clever. He would sit near the dead mouse and when flies came down, he would get a fly.”
He watched the frog for an entire lunch break.
The story arrived somewhere between explanations of Japanese patinas and custom railings.
It also explains a lot. Fitch notices everything: plants, insects, old tools, odd solutions, clever engineering tricks. His work is filled with observations gathered from gardens, forests, old European designs and conversations with other makers.
A peony support isn’t just a peony support. It’s an opportunity to improve something. A trellis isn’t just a trellis. Maybe it can come apart for shipping. Maybe it can help a plant grow differently. Maybe it can do something no one has considered before.
“I’m not really inventing anything new,” he says. “I just tweak it a little bit.”
After its beginning in Falls Village, moving to Millerton and eventually settling in Wassaic, Battle Hill Forge has become one of the region’s success stories. The shop is booked months in advance. Projects range from garden ornaments to monumental railings weighing hundreds of pounds. Designers seek him out. Gardeners collect his work.
Yet Fitch remains most animated when discussing collaboration.
The intern helping in the shop first met him as a student in one of his metalworking classes. Local glass artists add to his sculptures. Garden designers have helped refine his plant supports. For Burning Man this summer, he’s joining a team of fellow artists to build an installation featuring an oculus and a pair of metal sphinxes.
“We’ll have a little party,” he says.
The phrase could describe half the projects in the shop, especially the praying mantis. Technically, that sculpture belongs to Hackett.
“He makes all this cool stuff,” Fitch says. “I sell them for him because he’s one of those artists who doesn’t want to deal with the public.”
Fitch laughs.
“Which is totally smart.”
Outside, a dog wanders through the yard. A timber framer works next door. Metal rusts into beautiful shades of brown. New ideas wait in various stages of completion and there’s just a little magic around every corner.
To contact Battle Hill Forge, visit battlehillforge.com.
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