Jacksonville, Florida · An appreciation by Rob Urban
Congaree and PennA taste.
A memory.
A place to return.
A childhood jelly, a farm that kept finding new possibilities, and the pleasure of giving an afternoon somewhere interesting to go.
Before it was an orchard
Someone remembered
the jelly.
There is a childhood memory inside the story of Congaree and Penn.
In TCU Magazine’s 2020 account of the farm’s mayhaws, Scott Meyer remembers the fruit his father grew and the jelly his mother made. Years later, he and Lindsay Meyer planted a mayhaw orchard of their own.
I love that as a beginning. A taste stays with someone long enough to become an intention. Then the intention requires land, trees and work.
A mayhaw is a small, tart fruit associated with the American South. To someone meeting it for the first time, it may be an unfamiliar name on a menu. To someone else, it is part of the family kitchen. The same ingredient can be a discovery and a homecoming, depending on who is holding the spoon.
That is one of the things I admire about a place willing to introduce people to what grows around them. It gives a regional flavor another chance to become somebody’s favorite.
A beginning with room to change
The first idea
was allowed to grow.
TCU’s companion profile describes Scott and Lindsay beginning the farm in 2014 on land his father had operated as a tree nursery. Their initial plans involved fish farming and rice for sake. Chefs’ interest in freshly milled rice helped give the enterprise a different direction.
The account also describes Lindsay bringing her design background to packaging and the work of introducing the farm to people. In her reflections, the relationships around food had become a deeply enjoyable part of farming.
I am drawn to that willingness to discover the business while doing the work. People responded to something the farm could offer, and the Meyers paid attention.
There is a particular pleasure in seeing two kinds of knowledge become useful together. Growing something requires one set of decisions. Helping someone notice it, understand it and want to try it requires another. A good product needs people who care about both.
The farm’s present-day range of experiences shows how far an initial idea can travel. Its current directory offers ways to explore, dine, meet animals, gather and stay. The common thread is the place itself.
The living part of the invitation
The fruit has
its own calendar.
Congaree and Penn’s fruit and wildflower picking page is refreshingly candid about availability. Ripening, rain and yield all have a say. So, occasionally, do the crows.
That last possibility is very Florida. Someone has made a plan. A bird has reviewed it and found room for improvement.
I appreciate the honesty of an invitation that leaves the growing things in charge of their own timing. Picking is seasonal, and the farm asks visitors to check what is actually available.
There is something useful to learn from that kind of place even during a leisurely visit. Food has a life before it becomes a choice on a menu. A crop is an undertaking, with conditions to respond to and outcomes that require patience.
A visitor need not become a farmer to find that interesting. Sometimes a brief explanation is enough to change what you notice the next time you eat something familiar. Places that invite this kind of curiosity also raise the question of how a restaurant belongs to visitors and neighbors.
Where an introduction can happen
Even the
children’s menu
has a local story.
When I reviewed The Roost’s menu, the children’s choices included a peanut butter and mayhaw jelly sandwich.
It made me smile. A regional ingredient can arrive in a form a child already knows. There is no need to turn lunch into a lecture. The sandwich can simply be good, and a question about the jelly can come afterward.
The Roost describes a menu that changes with the seasons and draws produce from the farm’s garden as well as local and regional growers. That wider circle matters. A meal can introduce someone to the work of several people, including people they may never meet.
I think the most welcoming food experiences leave room for different levels of interest. One guest wants to know where an ingredient grew. Another wants to spend a pleasant hour with a friend. Both have good reasons for being at the table.
And interest can arrive quietly. A familiar dish tastes a little different. Someone asks what is in it. A name they had never heard becomes something they remember when they get home.
That is a lovely kind of education to offer over lunch.
Beyond the table
Give the afternoon
some room.
The farm’s visitor information describes orchards, the Little Trout River, cypress trees, live oaks and places to walk. For those who want a guide, farm tours use a wagon, with stops to explain what is growing and happening on the property.
I like the thought of having more to do with an afternoon than move from one appointment to the next. A meal can have a little space around it. A walk can become part of the occasion.
The guided option offers another pleasure: the company of someone who knows what you are looking at. A field that might otherwise pass as scenery becomes a specific crop at a particular stage. A tree gets a name. The place becomes easier to remember because there is more to remember about it.
That is why I value places where working land can also be encountered by visitors. They create an opportunity to become more attentive to something that was already there.
Why I admire Congaree and Penn
A place can give
you a new favorite.
What stays with me about this farm is the chance it gives people to form a personal attachment to an ingredient, a landscape or an afternoon.
Scott’s remembered jelly is one example of how long a simple pleasure can last. Someone visiting now may discover a flavor they had never tried. Someone else may enjoy learning the name of a tree or having an unhurried conversation outside.
Those are modest experiences, and I do not think they need to be enlarged to matter. The places we love often earn our affection through details we can explain very simply.
I admire the imagination involved in making those encounters possible. Congaree and Penn brings food, farming and hospitality close enough for a guest to follow an interest from one to another.
Sometimes all it takes to begin is a good lunch and a little time left in the afternoon.
Rob Urban
A few practical details
Before you
head to the farm.
Check the farm’s current offerings when planning your visit.
Where is Congaree and Penn?
Congaree and Penn is at 11830 Old Kings Road in Jacksonville, Florida. Check the farm’s website for current hours, reservations and visitor information.
Is a farm pass the same as a guided tour?
No. A farm pass provides access to explore the grounds independently. Guided tours and other reserved agritourism experiences are separate offerings; the farm states that passes are included with agritourism reservations.
Can visitors always pick fruit or wildflowers?
No. Picking depends on ripeness, weather and current availability. Check the farm’s picking page and ask the team what is available when you plan to visit.
Should I reserve a table at The Roost?
The farm recommends a dining reservation and does not guarantee seating without one. Check the current menu, availability and policies directly with Congaree and Penn.