This isn’t your typical farm supper. The Harvestville dinners are multi-course marvels created by professional chefs from all over Iowa.
Writer: Mary Jane Miller
Photographer: Jessica Mickey
I’m a food consultant — essentially, a chef without a restaurant. So whenever I get the chance to step into a commercial kitchen with a full staff and create a five-course dinner, I jump at it.
That’s why I’ve happily returned three summers in a row to cook a farm-to-table dinner at Harvestville Farm near Donnellson, in Iowa’s far southeastern corner. Each time, the day is long, hot and exhausting — and it reminds me why I absolutely love what I do.
Adam and Julie Hohl have hosted their dinners on the family farm since 2014, welcoming guests from April through September for evenings that celebrate Iowa’s seasonal bounty. They’ve spent more than a decade refining the experience, and it shows. Their meals were named the No. 1 Farm-to-Table Dinner Experience by Travel Iowa, the state tourism office, and most of the farm’s team has been with them since the beginning, a testament to the kind of place they’ve built.
Harvestville usually hosts 10 dinners each season, each limited to 60 guests to keep the atmosphere intimate. Tickets disappear almost instantly; this year they sold out in less than five minutes and added two more dinners. (Heads up: Reservations usually open in early March at harvestvillefarm.com.)
I chose an August dinner last year because that’s when Iowa’s produce is at its peak, but I was already sketching ideas in the spring. I worked with Tanner Olson of Sol Farm to build a menu around what would be coming out of the fields in August: tomatoes, peppers, sweet corn, cucumbers and herbs — the flavors that define an Iowa summer.
By midsummer, I’d tested recipes on my editor, my cooking-class students and plenty of patient friends and family. Once everything tasted right, I built the exhaustive prep list that keeps a dinner like this from descending into chaos.
Cheers: The chef and writer Mary Jane Miller, center, with Harvestville Farm owners Julie and Adam Hohl.
The scavenger hunt
I picked up prosciutto and nduja from La Quercia in Norwalk. Tanner had boxes of produce waiting at Sol Farm near St. Charles. I harvested honey and eggs from my own farm near Indianola and pulled a few leeks from the garden before they flowered so I could turn them into crispy frizzles for the beef.
Originally, I planned to serve chicken. Then Julie gently suggested guests expected something a little more luxurious at that price point ($120-$150). Fair enough. Beef it would be.
That decision led me to a Walmart parking lot, where I met Mary Lynne Ohnemus to buy her grass-fed brisket. She didn’t have quite enough, so she added a few pot roasts to the order. I paid her in cash, which felt vaguely illicit. As it turned out, those extra roasts would save the day.
August isn’t kind to lettuce, so I sourced greens from Clayton Farms, a hydroponic farm in Ames, and picked them up at HoQ Restaurant in Des Moines. On Friday afternoon I stopped at Milton Creamery for Prairie Breeze cheddar and quark, admired the hibiscus blooming outside the creamery, then wound through the hills of Shimek State Forest before arriving at Harvestville. Julie helped me unload the car, and for one glorious evening, my work was done.
The prep
Saturday began early. The first task was making delicate cheddar crisps for the opening course, followed by toasting crostini and hand-crushing 5 pounds of grape tomatoes, which sent seeds flying across the kitchen. I had hoped to pre-scoop the ice cream, but freezer space was limited, so dessert would have to be assembled at the last minute.
The brisket worried me most. I’d read that slices stay moist if topped with butter before reheating. Instead, I draped ribbons of smoky beef fat over the meat before sliding it into the oven. I decided to wait until just before dinner to slice it, trading neatness for juiciness.
Soon the Harvestville team began arriving. Watching them work is one of my favorite parts of the evening. They plate each course with quiet precision, moving around trays of dishes as each person adds one final component before the plates head to the dining room. It’s as much choreography as cooking.
Before dinner, I stepped into the barn to welcome everyone and introduce the menu. I joked with guests that with the big doors open to the breeze they might find a bee in their dessert — then quickly clarified that it would be a chocolate bee. Then I slipped back into the kitchen.
Miller runs the show from start to finish.
The moment of truth
Service always feels like controlled chaos.
The first course was a deconstructed bruschetta board: a ramekin of tomato-basil salad topped with cheddar crisps, nestled against prosciutto, soft quark cheese and a swipe of nduja sausage. Moments after it went out, one of the bartenders, Lacey Martinez, ducked into the kitchen with the night’s first review: “Everybody loves a Lunchable!” I laughed. I’ll take that as a compliment.
Midway through the entrée, I started to worry we were running short on brisket, so I sliced the pot roasts Mary Lynne had tucked into my order. They were juicy, smoky and every bit as good as the brisket. At nearly the same moment, I realized my chipotle crema packed more heat than I’d intended. A little extra cream and a lighter drizzle solved the problem before anyone noticed.
After dessert, Brant Knudsen discovered a forgotten brisket still sitting in the warming oven. At least the staff wouldn’t go hungry.
When the last plates had been cleared, Adam handed me one of the old fashioneds he’d perfected during the pandemic. Cocktail in hand, I wandered through the barn chatting with guests. Everyone had a favorite course. One woman couldn’t stop talking about the chilled cucumber soup. Another wanted every detail about smoking brisket. One gentleman asked if there was any chance of another helping of burnt-honey ice cream. I told him he’d have to arm wrestle the staff for it.
As I drove home that night, I was already thinking about next year’s menu. Instead of brisket, smoked short ribs would be just as delicious and a little easier to plate.
That’s the thing about cooking at Harvestville. The weeks of planning, the miles on the road, the endless prep work and the inevitable last-minute surprises all fade away once 60 people gather around a table to enjoy the best flavors of an Iowa summer. For one evening, a chef without a restaurant gets to tell a story through food. And I can’t wait to do it again.
The menu
First Course
A deconstructed bruschetta board featuring diced tomatoes with garlic and basil, topped with cheddar crisps and served with prosciutto, nduja sausage, soft quark cheese and crostini.
Second Course
A Midwestern take on Thai som tam salad: shredded underripe cantaloupe dressed in vinaigrette, tossed with lettuce, radish sprouts, hand-crushed grape tomatoes and green beans.
Third Course
Chilled cucumber soup inspired by Iowa’s classic creamy cucumber salad, finished with local sumac and nasturtium petals.
Fourth Course
Smoked beef brisket with chipotle crema over sweet corn polenta, topped with crispy leek frizzles and served with roasted zucchini and candy onions.
Fifth Course
Burnt-honey ice cream in a graham cracker tuile bowl, drizzled with dark chocolate sauce and topped with a chocolate honeybee and cookie-crumb honeycomb.
Contributor Mary Jane Miller of Indianola has worked as a food writer, chef, cooking teacher and food scientist for various clients, including Betty Crocker, the Food Network, Pillsbury, Target and the Minnesota Governor’s Residence. Photographer Jessica Mickey of Burlington owns Eyris Photography and started photographing professionally in 2012.
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