Fields of Blue

You missed it! July was National Blueberry Month, a celebration of Vaccinium corymbosum, the highbush blueberry.

You probably did not miss the actual blueberries; it would have been difficult, even in this time of isolation. From mid-June to August, they are everywhere, with supplies at their peak in July: in grocery stores, farm stands, and here in New Jersey, in about 200 blueberry farms, from small patches to hundreds of acres. All those farms total 80,400 acres, producing 38 to 40 million (million!) pounds of fruit a year, according to Denny Doyle, Chair of the New Jersey Blueberry Industry Advisory Council.

Most farms are in or near Hammonton, in the bucolic center of Atlantic County, or close by in Burlington County, many on the fringes of the Pine Barrens. Yes, other states grow them: Michigan and Maine, North Carolina, even California. And we have to be honest here: New Jersey is not the top producer—other states produce as much or more. But the cultivated juicy, sweet plump berry we enjoy now was developed right here in South Jersey. All the highbush [or cultivated] blueberries we know today started here.

Farmers had been familiar with the tiny fruit that is the wild blueberry—the lowbush variety—but did not believe it could be domesticated for commercial use. But early in the 20th century, a USDA botanist, Frederick Coville, believed it could be done. He learned that they grew happily in acidic soil, dominant in the Pinelands sugar sand environment.

Even earlier, Elizabeth White, daughter of a local farmer, had the same conviction. She read Coville’s Experiments in Blueberry Culture and invited him to use her farm and to partner with her in those experiments. The 3,000-acre White farm in Whitesbog began in 1857, growing cranberries (White’s Bog; get it?); today, Elizabeth White’s great-nephew is returning much of the land to that original crop. The site has been preserved as Historic Whitesbog Village in Browns Mills. Programs and a museum have been open to the public, but because of Covid-19 restrictions, it is now limited to exploration by car, bicycle, or foot, and to a General Store porch sale of cranberry and blueberry products. 

Elizabeth White paid Pineland farmers to find wild plants with the best berries: larger, sweeter, and juicier—and she and Coville crossbred those bushes until a viable crop was ready. They sold their first commercial berries out of her farm in 1916. Later the cultivation techniques moved on to Michigan and eventually onward from there.

The best way to find the best blueberries is to take a road trip. Drive up the Atlantic City Expressway from Cape May to Exit 28, taking you to State Highway 54. Turn on your GPS and tell it to take you to your choice of farms. Most have websites. Here are some you might try.

Rosedale Farms

Joe Badiacco, owner of Rosedale Farms in Hammonton, grows organic blueberries and, when that season is over, blackberries. By the time you read this the blueberries might be gone, so dash up there for blackberries. He says this year has been a short blueberry season because an April frost damaged the flowering plants. That frost is legendary; every farmer we spoke to recalled it in bitter detail: days of ice and hail that stunted not only berries, but peach, apple, and pear crops. 

Badiacco is the third generation to farm his land, which like many others, originated when his grandparents grew a variety of vegetables in the 1970s. He now tends 30 acres of blueberries and four of blackberries which, at this writing at the end of June, were just beginning to ripen. 

He has farmed organically since he took on blueberry production. Owners of nearby corporate land were preserving it and suggested that he follow organic practices as a way to keep the soil in its best condition. His bushes are protected from weeds by mulch and old-fashioned hand pulling, and workers mow the alleys between hilled rows.

Farms in New Jersey practice Integrated Pest Management, which according to Rutgers University Extension documents, means careful monitoring of herbicide and pesticide application with approved chemicals, and natural controls whenever possible. It is a “strategy that focuses on long-term prevention of pests or their damage through a combination of techniques such as biological control, habitat manipulation, modification of cultural practices, and use of resistant varieties.”

Organic farms use no pesticides, but certain Department of Agriculture plant-based herbicides are approved to control fungus and other afflictions that might attack blueberry plants. Badiacco keeps a book of permitted remedies, which are used with discretion, only when evidence of disease or damage appears. 

Rutgers documents state that “Cultural practices such as annual pruning of dead wood and older canes help to maintain plant vigor, eliminate disease inoculum, and reduce populations of bud mites and scale insects . . .pesticides that are extremely toxic to bees should not be applied to blossoms at any time because even their residue is toxic to bees.”

Some fields in the area have stacks of beehives whose inhabitants supplement the local bee pollinators in early to mid spring when flowering is at its peak. The extra good news about that is jars of blueberry and cranberry honey that many farms offer.

In New Jersey, Rutgers documents tell us, and as many a backyard gardener can confirm, the most serious agricultural pests are wildlife. Birds, deer, and small mammals all enjoy the blueberry fruit. No chemical controls are available other than repellents. Physical barriers are considered the best method to prevent damage by wildlife, but Joe Badiacco chuckles scornfully at that notion. Gardeners have learned what farmers already know: the critters are going to share your produce.

Blueberries are picked, sorted, and packed by hand in most farms, but the largest use machinery that shakes the fruit from the bushes into a conveyor belt and then into a “picking lug” which is removed and taken into the packing house. Most of that crop is for the frozen market, says Doyle.

Denny Doyle speaks with enthusiasm about how hand picking will evolve into almost total automation—eventually. Experiments are in the works to create new—and expensive—automatic sorting equipment that can separate green berries from ripe, small from large, and shriveled from plump—and will also remove grit. He says these mechanized techniques are already requiring fewer workers; historically a large operation like Atlantic Blueberry Company, where Doyle worked for 20 years, required about 170 workers. Today about 50 are employed there, and he expects that ultimately only about 20 people will do the manual work. He notes that fewer seasonal agricultural workers are available these days, so as worker availability declines, mechanization will become the rule.

Merlino Brothers Farm 

Danny Merlino and his brother are the third generation operating Merlino Brothers Farm on Richards Road near Hammonton. Their grandfather, who was born in Italy but fought with the U.S in World War II, started farming in 1949. In the beginning, the family grew a variety of crops like peppers and zucchini, but eventually settled on blueberries for most of their 120 acres. They grow two varieties: Danny describes Dukes, the earlier crop, as plump, sweeter, and dark-skinned. Later in the season they produce Bluecrop, a bit less sweet and thinner skinned—but just as good, he declares; it arrives in the market just as the Michigan crop appears. The Merlino land produces enough berries to ship to Pittsburgh, New York, Philadelphia, and points beyond. 

The farm is off Pleasant Mills Road, which heads through the countryside scenery of several blueberry farms, produce stands, and small garden centers and pretty houses. Take it toward Hammonton from Black Horse Pike and watch for signs. A family or staff member will meet you, sell you as many crates as you need for $20 a carton, and help you load up. As we watched, a group from Deptford took home five cartons—that’s 100 pints!—to pass among their family. “This is our annual trip,” they explained. Another group arrived and took two cartons. This is typical of many of the farms along the back roads around Hammonton. Most of the time you can drive right into the lot, find the office door, and ask—a carton of a dozen pint containers that cost in that neighborhood of about $20.

DiMeo Farms

Anthony DiMeo, fourth-generation owner of 104-year-old DiMeo Farms on Nesco Road, invites you to not only pick your own organic heirloom blueberry varieties, but to bring a picnic. Set your feast down on one of the tables that surround the fields, go up to the former corn crib that is now Anthony’s “She-Shed” because a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, pay $20, and collect 12 plastic pint containers. Off you go, into the fields, to fill the little boxes. You can buy and pick more, but that’s the minimum. Then, enjoy your picnic.

Or, you might stroll down to the dock at Hammonton Creek and float awhile in one of the farm’s kayaks, or enjoy one or more of several nature trails, then go pick berries, then go eat. It’s okay to bring a nice bottle of wine, and even during COVID limitations, masks are not required in the fields. Take deep breaths. 

Because the plants are heirlooms, fruit production lingers a little longer; berries are here until the end of August, promises DiMeo, so you still have time!

For $10 more, buy a blueberry or thornless raspberry bush and plant it in your own garden. Buy two. Pay attention to instructions, water them well, and pick your own at home in a year or two.

The Red Barn 

It’s worth the trip to head northwest along Route 206 to find Whitesbog Village. On the way you should stop at The Red Barn, where Evelyn Penza, now 80 years old, bakes exquisite seasonal fruit pies and quiches, and cooks breakfasts and lunches that are served by two long-time friends in the outdoor patio. Everything is seasonal, “Jersey Fresh” and made in the barn’s kitchen which was fragrant with just-baked blueberry pies when we visited. The Penzas also sell a few plants and a lot of blueberries, along with preserves and syrups. 

Mrs. Penza raised two sons, and one still works the farm. The other owns a successful computer advertising business but helps “so much” when he’s needed. Her grandchildren pick the berries along with a crew of workers who travel from Florida, sort and pack, and then store them in a cavernous dark spooky freezer until they are shipped. The barn, parts of which are more than 180 years old, was originally across the road in the main farm. “My grandfather wanted to tear it down to make room for packing houses and cold storage,” Mrs. Penza says. But her mother objected. Instead, they jacked the old building up and rolled it across the road to its present location, not far from a small pond and close to the road. It stayed that way from 1950 until the 70s, when “we started to pump life into it” by building additions in front and in back.  

Words to the wise reader: do not leave here without a pie.

If you’re so inclined, head back into Hammonton for one last stop before you hit the aforementioned Atlantic Blueberry Company and find your way to 12th Street and Bagliani’s Market [see our Road Tripping column, Fall 2016 issue]. Paul Bagliani is the—you guessed it—third generation of yet another Italian family who settled here because, he says, the scenery reminded them of their birth homes in Sicily and some other areas of the old country. Bagliani’s sells what you’d hope to find in an old-fashioned market: all kinds of cold cuts, imported and domestic; cheeses from everywhere, their own sauces, fresh meats sourced from small farms in Ohio and Pennsylvania. They carry local produce, crusty Italian breads, cookies and pastries (including Food of the Gods: cannoli)—and blueberries. “It’s all about food, and being Italian,” Paul says, answering the observation about how many of the farms and businesses are still in the hands of original families. 

Consult the butcher or the cheese maven for the best recommendations—or follow Cape May Magazine photographer Michelle Giorla’s suggestion and get the blueberry cobbler cheese. Bring a cooler, fill it up, then follow these directions to Atlantic Blueberry Company, given to me by a Bagliani’s cashier a few years ago on my first visit: “Go right out of the parking lot. When you get to the light, turn left. Follow that road. You’ll see a dirt road. Don’t take it. Follow the curve and stay on the road until it forks. Don’t take that. Keep going. Then you’ll see a huge building. Park there and go inside.”

Atlantic Blueberry Company  

That is Atlantic Blueberry Company, on Weymouth Road. Through a side door next to a truck bay, you’ll find an office and a long table that separates visitors from the conveyor belts sending hundreds of boxes of fresh-picked fruit to be loaded and shipped. Wait for someone to come out of the office, request your order, and take home some of the results of this operation’s 1,000 acres. This business also is under the ownership and management of a third generation.

Extend your day: instead of going back the way you came, make a left out of the parking lot and follow Weymouth Road as it curves and narrows and enters deep woods with a narrow creek below the road on the right. Pass several cabins that look like Hansel and Gretel’s cottage. Cross a bridge and turn into The Weymouth Forge/Furnace, part of the Atlantic County Park System, just north of the Black Horse Pike (Route 322). Walk around, maybe take a dip in the creek. 

You’ll have to go home some time: go back onto the road and follow it until it opens onto Black Horse Pike. Take a left and go straight on until you find civilization. 

Allen Family Farm, Woodbine 

Don’t feel like schlepping? If you want to stay closer to home, just drive about 45 minutes from Cape May to Allen Family Farm in Woodbine, where you can pick your own. Stash some flat boxes (left over from the cartons you bought in Hammonton, maybe?).  From Cape May take Route 47 north to Tyler Road (first light after the Dennisville Wawa), turn right, and ask your GPS to take you to Allen Family Farm on Tarkiln Road. On the way you’ll pass the entrance to Belleplain State Forest and Lake Nummy, so if you thought to pack a sandwich, or your hiking shoes or your bike, plan to stop there on your way back. It’s very pretty in there.

At the end of Tarkiln Road you’ll see a big white house with red shutters. Park under the tree and go up the front steps where black buckets are stacked. Ring the little bell to let the family know you are there, and take a bucket — maybe one per person—and head out to the fields. Tip: head to the back of the field near the trees where the sweeter, bigger berries hang ready to pick. Blueberries grow in clumps, but they don’t all ripen at the same time, so pull the blue ones and leave the green ones. Although, according to Mrs. Allen, if you are making jam, the green berries cut the sweetness a bit, so no harm if a few make it into the jar.

Although the farm is not certified organic, they do not use herbicides or pesticides—and visitors are welcome to pull a few weeds! Carol Ann Allen lives in the big white house that her husband renovated when they bought the land in 1998 and moved in with their five adopted children three years later. The property was originally cranberries, but the family converted to blueberries over the next few years. 

Mrs. Allen and a couple of her now-grown kids will be on the front porch. Fill your containers and take them up to the porch to be weighed: $2.50 a pound if you pick your own. (A one-pint plastic container is about three-quarters of a pound.) The farm is open sunrise to sunset, and children are welcome. Those not able to wander down the rows can ask for helpers; in that case, the berries are $4.00 a pound. If you are a cancer patient or survivor, or an active or retired member of the military, let the hosts know.

Watch out for the guinea hen in the property across the road and be prepared to scratch the yard cat behind the ears. Bring sunscreen, bug repellent, a hat if you like, and water that you can carry into the field. Wear sturdy shoes — NOT sandals! And be careful not to step on the little toads that are hopping about.

Fill your buckets, which hold about five or six pounds, then go back to the porch where Mrs. Allen will weigh your haul on a scale that subtracts the weight of the bucket. Pay on the porch, then dump your berries into your own containers, and off you go.

Mrs. Allen uses blueberries the way anyone would: pies, muffins, and in any recipe that uses raisins. She prepares bread dough, and after it has risen and is ready to go into the oven, she sprinkles it with cinnamon sugar and blueberries, folds the dough over itself, and bakes. When it’s done—presto! Bread and jelly. (This works with pie crust dough.) And, of course, she just eats them.

Over two pleasant weekends, we visited several more farms than are described here. Almost all are open for individual sales and a short but friendly chat. 

Celebrate New Jersey’s most famous crop. Whether nearby in Woodbine or further up the road,  enjoy your trip through The Blueberry Capital of the World. Wait, really? Yes, so dubbed by then-President Ronald Reagan when he visited Hammonton on September 19, 1984. Denny Doyle says that no one knows why; he just did it. Take a trek to some of these farms and you will know why. 

Blueberries: Did you know?

So good—and so good for you. One cup of fresh blueberries contains:

• 84 calories
• 0 g of cholesterol
• 1.1 g of protein
• 0.49 g of fat
• 21.45 g of carbohydrate
• 3.6 g of dietary fiber
• 14.74 g of total sugars
• One cup of blueberries provides 24% of the recommended daily allowance of vitamin C