Yale doctor grows hops in Sharon
It’s Friday morning in Connecticut and Dr. James Shepherd is on a conference call across continents. Since last spring, the infectious disease expert has been working with the World Health Organization as a consultant on the COVID-19 pandemic.
As the sun rises over the Litchfield hills, the Yale physician can hear dogs barking in the German suburbs, the call to evening prayer in Bangladesh, and the nighttime traffic in northern Australia, while he and his colleagues with the World Health Organization discuss how best to handle any COVID outbreaks at Rohingya refugee camps in Bangladesh.
After the call, Shepherd switches gears and steps outside. February’s snowpack is beginning to thaw into a springtime slush of mud and ice, and the going is tricky, but he has a more personal crisis to crack: His farm manager, who is out of state on a family emergency, forgot to notify area dairies to pause their fertilizer delivery. There’s five tons of manure to distribute over his crops, and he’s never operated the spreader before.
“I had to go and spread it, and then I got the manure spreader stuck between the hop poles,” and was sliding sideways in the snow with the tractor, he says.
“It was a sh— show of the first order,” the doctor-turned-farmer deadpans in his southern English accent. Just another day in the life for Shepherd, whose twin professions find him problem-solving at home and abroad.
Putting down roots
Though he and his family kept a “home base” on the shoreline in Stonington, Shepherd spent much of his medical career outside of the United States. He’s worked with the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in sub-Saharan Africa as a researcher and director of treatment for HIV and tuberculosis, and served as an adviser for the WHO in India on its TB programs.
“When you do that, you live overseas, you never really set down roots and you’re a transient,” the 59-yearold physician says. “You never could really do the other kinds of things in your life that would please you because you were temporary, and so when we came back for family reasons from India, I thought, ‘Well, it’s time, I’m getting on a bit and I’ve always loved farms and I grew up around farms although my family weren’t farmers, and I wanted to farm or at least be involved in farming.’ And this is what we ended up doing.”
In 2014, Shepherd’s need to finally put down roots led him to purchasing an 175-acre tract in Sharon and clearing pasture land of the former dairy farm for his agricultural enterprise. It was a learn-as-you-go experience, he says. The first planting was in 2015, and the first “modest harvest” in 2016. Farming, Shepherd says, is just a “different set of infuriating frustrations. That’s life, I’m afraid.”
It wasn’t the most popular of decisions. His wife, Katherine, was skeptical. She loved living by the Sound, and kept their Stonington home until only a few months ago, and growing hops, Shepherd says, “is really, really complicated.”
Complex, historic crop
“It’s one of the most professional crops involving some of the most delicate horticultural practices, and has a real infrastructure problem,” he says, because it grows on 18-foot-high trellises and uses specialized equipment, much of which Shepherd and farm manager Ally Hughes improvised themselves. Not exactly the ideal crop for a novice farmer. Moreover, the Sussex, England native doesn’t really enjoy the product in its strongest form.
“I’m not a real fan of really hoppy beers,” he says, noting the irony of his pursuits. “Being English, I have a muscle memory of basic ale growing up, not too strong.”
Hops — a crop more known today in the U.S. for its vast fields in the Pacific Northwest — may seem like an odd choice for Connecticut as well. But the plant grew in abundance in the east until prohibition, according to trade organization Hop Growers of America. Cooperstown, N.Y., was once considered the hops capital of the U.S., and commercial hop production began in New England much earlier — in 1648 in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, HGA writes. The crop is returning to its northeastern roots, in tandem with the explosion of the craft beer movement throughout the U.S.
Shepherd counts his Smokedown Farm as among the largest hops-growers in southern New England. At nine acres, the farm produced 2,100 lbs of dried hops in its best growing season in 2020. Shepherd expects a 3,000-pound yield this year, with a goal of producing 1,000 pounds per acre over the next couple of years.
“A lot of people say they’re going to plant a row of hops to look local and connected to the earth, but discover really quickly, as (Connecticut brewery) Kent Falls did with its threequarter-acre hop yard, that the challenges of growing hops are going to be all in or nothing,” Shepherd says. “I only made it because I had a day job. I can pay some bills and have a little bit leftover to support the hopyard.”
Flavor of the region
The COVID-19 pandemic also affected Connecticut breweries — Shepherd’s main customers — because much of their revenue comes from sales of on-tap suds, and when the breweries closed, the demand dried up. Still, farm manager Hughes did the legwork of driving around the state and marketing the harvest, and the 2020 crop sold out.
Sam Wagner, cofounder of Little House Brewing, is one of Smokedown’s smaller clients. He says the Chester-based craft brewery uses about 80 percent locally grown malt and aims to feature locally grown hops in many of its beers, including those from Smokedown Farm and Colchester’s Hop Culture Farms & Brew Co.
“Similar to the concept of ‘terroir’ in the wine world, it’s critical that a community focused brewery showcase the flavor of the surrounding region, both to educate and support the local community and economy,” Wagner says. “Connecticut’s hop farms, whether it be Smokedown or our friends at Hop Culture Farms & Brew Co., are producing some super viable and interesting varieties that bring a lot to the table. And, if anything else, their freshness is unbeatable by larger hop growers and suppliers from out of state.”
Smokedown’s hops are used by about 30 different breweries throughout Connecticut, among them Kent Falls in its Bird Post pale ale; Firefly Hollow’s Local Bud IPA; and Nod Hill’s Connecticut Grown IPA. Two Roads’ Table Terroir, which uses 100 percent Smokedown hops, 100 percent Connecticut malt and 100 percent Connecticut yeast, and is served at the brewery’s Area Two location. Bethel’s Broken Symmetry Gastro-Brewery recently put in a large order for the next year, Shepherd said. Despite this, the farm is yet to break even.
Looking ahead
“No one pays me to grow hops, but Yale pays me a faculty’s salary,” Shepherd says. As spring arrives at Smokedown, the doctor continues the delicate balancing act of farmer and physician, seeing patients and teaching at Yale while patiently waiting for nature to take its course, among the plants and the virus. Shepherd predicts the “natural cycle” of COVID-19 to subside with the season, as more people are vaccinated and viruses tend to become less severe over time. But if there’s anything both his pursuits have taught him, it’s that plants and pandemics can only temporarily be bound by human hands.
“There will be a new one (pandemic) soon. Before I retire, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see a new one. It’s a natural process that we all need to prepare for rather than hide from. These natural processes are natural, and it doesn’t really matter what homo sapiens think about it,” he says. “You really understand the limitations that we exist within when you start to try and bend the surface of the earth to your needs and wants. You get a crash course in the art of the possible.”