On the way to Point Reyes, California, rolling pastureland and ninety-degree weather give way to cypress groves, glimpses of the Pacific, and mercury that plummets as fog filters across the pavement. I turn up a dusty road and, before getting out of the car, pull on two of the three layers I had packed for the evening.

In the distance, fifty or so people huddle, surrounded by maize-colored grasses waving like specters in the mist. We have all gathered here on the lands of Marin Sun Farms to partake in a dinner by Outstanding in the Field. The company, founded by cook-cum-artist Jim Denevan, seeks to connect people to the essentials of food by bringing them into the fields where it is raised. "It's amazing hearing from the people who make the products, who create the culture of the table," says Denevan. "You get to hear the farmers tell their story, how and where they spend their days."

When all the guests have arrived, they are handed a glass of regional wine and taken on a tour of the host farm. Chefs from the local area then prepare dishes based on available fresh ingredients. On one farm, apples may be the food of honor, at another it may be the lamb or veal raised on site, at still another it could be sheep cheeses and seasonal produce. David Evans, owner of Marin Sun Farms, is our host for this evening. His family has been farming in the area for four generations, and David himself is now an outspoken proponent and purveyor of grass-fed beef. "I really just farm the sun," says David. "It feeds the grass, which feeds the beef, which feeds us." Sean Thackrey, from nearby Bolinas, provides us with wine for a toast. When I ask what grapes have gone into his Pleiades, he laughs and hands me the bottle. "You'll just have to read." I look at it and smile. The list recalls traditional "field blends," like those made by old-timers who would intersperse vines of different varietals and pick them all together. Pleiades seems to me an appropriate wine to be drinking in a field teeming with its own blend of flora.

On the trek to the dinner table, conversations begin to bud. As we near the knoll, we hear the rumble of waves breaking on the shore. In a way, waves were responsible for Denevan taking up cooking. "Growing up in Santa Cruz, I just wanted to be able to surf during the day," he says. Cooking jobs offered the flexible schedule he sought, but it wasn't until he was modeling in Europe in his twenties that food became something more to him. "Seeing the richness there inspired me," he says. "When you ate at little cafes or agriturismos, it was all very intimate, very direct. I remember a beautiful old farmhouse with a kitchen garden and vineyards right out the door. It really left an impression."

When Denevan returned to the States in the 1980s, Alice Waters, owner and chef of Chez Panisse, was making headlines championing farmers' markets and sustainable agriculture, and people were becoming more curious about the sources of their food and the finished plate. "There was an increased hunger for connection, and people were eager to find out about these things--the farmer, the fisherman, the cheesemaker." Denevan first began satiating that hunger at Gabriela Cafe in Santa Cruz, where he invited farmers to come and speak to his guests about their produce. In 1999 he took it a step further--literally--bringing the restaurant to the farm itself. "The table is a stage--not just for food or education, but for the experience of enjoying a meal on the farm."

Denevan set his sights even further afield when in 2004, he and his team went on their inaugural National Tour. It has been such a hit, that this year they're hosting dinners from Northern California to North Carolina. "Now, there are food artisans everywhere: Colorado, Washington, Illinois. When we travel across the country, we're trying to bring those artisans to the table and showcase what they do." Denevan's travels have deepened his appreciation for small farms. "I have learned about the growth of artisanal products and seen people's interest in small farms and where food is coming from."

Back at Marin Sun Farms, as we settle in at our table--a long, white-linen affiar that seems to go on forever--the fog miraculously disappears, and faces tilt toward the sun like blossoms. Daniel Long of San Francisco's de Young Cafe is preparing a feast for us on a pair of grills set askew on the hillside. "Driving the catering van across the fields was fun," chuckles Long, an affable chef who is passionate about promoting sustainable food sources. "I really believe in the principle of Outstanding in the Field, which is why I'm here tonight." Dinners are served farm style--large platters filled with fresh food are passed along the table. Tonight they brim with paella made with local free-range chicken, organic blue lake green beans, and lamb sausage followed by short ribs made from Marin Sun Farms beef.

In between courses, we stretch our legs with a stroll to the bluff overlooking the beach. As far as I can see, the horizon is filled with surf and sea--both of which have molded Denvan. While surf may have defined his childhood, the sand is forming his future. Today Denevan is as well known for his drawings in the sand as he is for his tables in the field. "I just discovered it one day when I drew a ten-foot fish on the beach with my finger. In the evening light, it really stood out, and I thought, 'This is interesting'. Transitory, beautiful moments in nature are sort of what people were meant to do."

The sun dips beneath the knoll and twilight lingers as if it, like those of us around the table, wants to savor the evening for as long as it can. Then the fog returns, and like the sand pictures Denevan creates, the image has been erased as from a chalkboard. "My drawings exist for five or six hours and so do the dinners. Then we're on to something else," says Denevan. "But we're different. It touches us."

As my headlights once again swoop over inland pastures, I notice that I smile as bits of the evening replay in my head. The actual expereince may be over, but its essence has been taken in and nourishes me still.

Would you like to use this article on your web site? E-mail Lia for licensing information.

print this article