Organic alternative? Small farming without bureaucracy

The woman had just completed her first lap around the Binford Farmers Market when she returned to her starting point, canvas tote in hand.

It was a Saturday morning, and beneath a white tent, Eric and Christine Murphy — owners of Shamrock Farm in Rush County — were stocking mounds of fresh produce in wicker baskets and plastic bins.

Placards secured by clothespins identified the bounty: Large leafy heads of Tropicana lettuce, picked the day before, were selling for $5 a pound. Strike Bush beans, some as long as pencils, were $2 a pound. Bundles of black kale went for $3 apiece.

The woman selected a medium-sized Dunja zucchini. But as she made her purchase, something caught her eye: On the vendor's banner, the word "organic'' was covered with masking tape. Written in its place was "Certified Naturally Grown."

"So this zucchini that I'm about to buy, has it been demoted?'' she asked, kiddingly.

Eric Murphy smiled. "Let me tell you a story," he said.

They weren't protesting; they simply chose another way to go.

That's perhaps the least complicated way to describe why small farmers Eric Murphy and his wife, Christine, ended their two-year relationship this year with the U.S. Department of Agriculture's organic certification program and became members of an alternative label that has no affiliation to the federal government: Certified Naturally Grown.

"It just makes sense for us, from a cost and time perspective," Eric Murphy said.

Married 27 years with a pair of full-time jobs between them — Eric, 50, is an Indianapolis firefighter; Christine, 50, is

a respiratory therapist at Community Hospital North — the Murphys' midlife foray into farming has been nothing less than educational for the couple.

"And we're still learning," said Eric.

Shamrock Farm is located on 4 acres of leased farmland in Arlington, about 30 miles southeast of Indianapolis, off U.S. 52.

The Murphys said they've been committed to organic methods to grow their food — which includes using no synthetic herbicides, pesticides, fertilizers or genetically modified organisms — since 2010. Some of their practices involve using cover crops such as buckwheat to suppress weeds. If that doesn't work, they yank them by hand.

Shamrock Farm gained its first customer a few years back when Eric Murphy asked Green B.E.A.N Delivery if there was something he could grow for them.

Green B.E.A.N works with local farmers and artisans to provide home delivery of organic and natural groceries to communities in Indiana.

"This is what I started with," Eric said, holding up a bunch of Chioggias, often referred to as candy cane beets due to their red-and-white circular centers. "I don't even like beets, but I sold 10,000 bunches that summer."

Soon the couple began adding other vegetable varieties. In the spring of 2013, they built a mushroom cave where shiitake, portobello and cremini grow from pre-inoculated logs of pressed organic sawdust.

But a much bigger change occurred at Shamrock Farm recently.

Three months ago, the Murphys pulled out of the National Organic Program because they said they wanted to reduce costs — they paid nearly $1,000 in certification fees last year — and decrease the hours spent keeping extensive records of their practices each week.

But by opting out of the USDA program, the Murphys surrendered the right to use the word organic to market their products. The National Organic Program law requires compliance with its regulations to use the term organic if an operation grosses more than $5,000 a year from organic products.

Violators can be subjected to hefty fines: If any operation knowingly sells or labels a product as "organic" without following the program's policy, they could pay a civil penalty up to $11,000 per violation, according to information posted on the USDA website (www.ams.usda.gov/nop).

Eric Murphy said he respects the integrity behind the penalties and the certification process because it keeps profits where they belong — within real organic businesses.

"I talk to one farmer — he sprays every week whether he needs to or not. But I have to pay to say there's no chemicals on my products? It's kind of a joke among us," he said.

No longer part of the federal government's program, the Murphys looked for an alternative label that matched their belief system. They said they found it in a small but growing network of mostly direct-market farmers serving their local communities.

This year, the Murphys are paying the minimum contribution of $114 to be Certified Naturally Grown members.

Adding value

Organic lost its fad image long ago; it's a way of life for many. As of 2013, more than 18,500 organic farms and pro-cessing facilities in the U.S. were certified to USDA organic regulations — a 240 percent increase since National Organic Program's tracking began in 2002, according to the USDA's website.

"Some of the growth that we're seeing are conventional farmers trending toward organic," said Jessica Ervin, deputy general manager of Ecocert ICO, which is the only USDA National Organic Program accredited certification agency in Indiana. "They see that being organic adds premier value to their products."

Alice Varon, executive director of Certified Naturally Grown, said its program is not in competition with the National Organic Program. Certified Naturally Grown, which began in New York in 2002, has 750 members in 47 states. Varon said some operations also participate in the federal government's program.

"It's up to them (organic farmers) to find their perfect fit," Varon said.

Although Certified Naturally Grown states it bases its standards on the organic standards of the federal government, there are differences. Chief among them: USDA certified organic producers follow rigorous requirements that are verified by a third party through an inspection process, while Certified Naturally Grown inspections are carried out by other farmers.

"We're the only national peer-review certification program for ecological farmers," Varon said.

Cissy Bowman, who founded Indiana Certified Organic in 1994, said Certified Naturally Grown is continually evolving. She currently sits on its Aquaponics Advisory Council.

"As it expands and grows, I'm hoping they can find a way to maintain their lower costs," she said. "It will be harder if they get too big."

When Eric Murphy was investigating whether to join Certified Naturally Grown, Varon said she was impressed by his passion to grow healthy, chemical-free food for his customers.

"That's what motivates him, and we need more farmers like that," she said. "It's meaningful for him to declare who you are in the world — that it's not just about selling more tomatoes."

Life-changing

For the Murphy family, it's personal.

In 2009, Christine was hospitalized with an autoimmune condition that caused her to go into renal failure.

In 2010, she lost her right kidney. Shortly after that, she was diagnosed with lupus.

While she was in the hospital, she read "The Cure: Heal Your Body, Save Your Life," by Timothy Brantley, and began eating mostly organic raw food.

That's how Shamrock Farm was born.

"In 2010, the doctor told me that I've got two years left of productive life," she said.

"I probably wouldn't be here if I didn't change my diet."

Because they each have other jobs, the Murphys are always on the go — particularly in the summer.

On Wednesdays, they can be found at City Market in Downtown Indianapolis unloading crates and coolers filled with vegetables from a 22-year-old Dodge van that at one time was an FBI surveillance vehicle.

On Saturdays, they set up shop at Binford, which relocated to Lawrence North High School's parking lot this year.

The Murphys have two children — Heather, 24, and Sean, 21. A pair of Ivy Tech students from Arlington — Hannah Morrell, 19, and Lauren Heady, 18 — help on the farm.

Shamrock Farm's reputation is growing — especially among Indianapolis' restaurant chefs and small grocers.

Twon Schroeder, produce buyer at Pogue's Run Grocer on East 10th Street, began buying beets from Eric Murphy three years ago before adding other vegetables.

"There's a huge difference between his shiitakes and others," Schroeder said. "It's awesome to see his business grow and watch him tweak it to make sense for his family."

Erin Kem, executive chef at R Bistro on Massachusetts Avenue — one of the original farm-to-table restaurants in Indianapolis — has taken such a liking to Shamrock Farm's mushrooms that she created an ice cream from shiitake stems that she dehydrates and steeps.

"It's magnificent — I have to brag about it," Kem said with a laugh. "Wonderful, earthy, delicious."

The bond that the Murphys have with some of their customers is intense. For example, Eric harvests practically each head of cabbage that he sells to Fermenti Artisan at City Market.

"Do you know that a cabbage seed the size of a pinhead can grow to 14 pounds?'' Eric Murphy said with a smile. "That's so cool to me."

However, leaving the USDA organic program hasn't come without drawbacks.

Shamrock Farm has lost customers and clients because it no longer can market itself as organic — even though he hasn't changed a thing.

"I tell them that the food is exactly the same; I do absolutely nothing different," he said. "But they say it's an accountability issue with their customers."

Eric shrugs his shoulders.

"I have to educate my customers more," he said, adding that customers at farmers markets should question vendors about their practices, including asking if they use chemicals on their crops.

On a recent weekday morning at Shamrock Farm, Eric and Christine stood among rows of tomatoes when they looked up — almost in unison — at a squawking hawk that has been patrolling the area like a security guard for the past couple of years.

"My animal suppressor," laughed Eric, referring to the hawk's penchant for nabbing mice and rabbits.

Suddenly, there's a squeal from Christine.

"Yay! I found some Husk cherries.''

Asked how they're supposed to be eaten — the tiny fruits are covered with delicate Chinese-lantern-like husks — Eric grabs one and demonstrates.

"You unwrap them like they're Hershey's Kisses," he said, pulling back the paper-thin husks.

And voila — a tomato.

"Here you go," he said. "A little present from nature."