When I arrive in at All One One All Farm (AOOA) in Goshen, I am greeted by Paul, a handsome, long-legged black-and-white hound who patrols the parking area with aloof authority. He pauses to assess me, decides I am neither threatening nor interesting, and moves on. It feels like permission to explore.

Hand-painted signs point up a hill toward a barn where clusters of people stand  at tables, whisking what can only be bechamel, of softest yellow, by hand. I later learn the class is offered by Voila Voila Kitchen, a collaboration between cofounder Ariane Daguin and her childhood friend Nicole Peyrafitte. There are other activities like yoga, cocktail classes, craft making, and programming for young farmers, each weekend during the open season, which runs April through October. 

Back down the hill, the farm store tells its own story. Aerial drawings line the walls, maps of the property in different stages of development. Early spring produce is already available: tender arugula, bok choy, alongside dried herbs from last year’s harvest. There are wool blankets made from the farm’s sheep, a small bar lined with colorful bottles, and a compact kitchen displaying the day’s offerings behind glass.

Raised beds and tidy rows of early-season greens anchor AOOA Farm’s kitchen garden, where what’s harvested in the morning often lands on the plate by afternoon. Photo: Josh Baron, Feature Four.

AOOA Farm, a D’Artagnan Foundation Regenerative Farm, is the collaboration between Ariane Daguin and her daughter, Alix Daguin. Ariane is the founder of premium meat supplier D’Artagnan.

When Alix arrives, the energy shifts. She greets me with genuine delight, pressing an enormous egg into my hand. I laugh, amused, and ask, “What is it?”

“A dinosaur egg!” she says with a playful smile. (It turns out to be a goose egg.)

She’s already moving; quick, focused, animated; talking as she goes, enthusiastic and optimistic. I’m drawn in and match her pace. It was the black soil, she explains, like the dirt they know in Auch, the Gascon village made famous by her grandfather, Andre Daguin, that drew her and her mother, Ariane, to this 14.5-acre property in Orange County’s Black Dirt Region in 2019. Andre earned two Michelin stars chef for his restaurant, the Hotel de France, where he redefined and popularized duck breast, grilling it like steak, served medium-rare instead of the traditional crisp, à l’orange.

With degrees in both hospitality and architecture, Alix says, “This is what I’m doing with my life!” As we walk, her influences become visible. Red-handled clippers stick out of her back pocket. She clears fallen branches, trims plants, greets animals, and keeps a close eye on the landscape.

AOOA’s kitchen leans on what’s just been harvested—bok choy on toast, a flaky pot pie, and a simple salad—served on mismatched china that underscores the farm’s lived-in elegance. Photo: Danielle Caldwell

The farm has just received delivery of 1,500 trees that need to be planted. American plums, Nanking cherry, and peaches as well as fodder trees.  As we head toward the back acres, we pass several people already at work planting trees, including her boyfriend and his father. After only 20 minutes in Alix’s presence, it is easy to understand why friends and family have committed their Sunday afternoon to her cause. We pass a young family, Montessori teachers who will host children’s programming here, and a table where I am introduced to Bam Bowen, a multidisciplinary artist based in Newburgh, one of two artists in residence this year.

We visit the chickens, hundreds of them, mixed breeds including some endangered livestock. They are glossy and well-fed, no scrappy yard birds here. Their clucking overlaps with two geese who pace protectively, honking, hissing, and showing their teeth. “They were used as watchdogs in Roman times,” Alix says.

We walk past the “mowers,” fat-tailed Karakul sheep, sheltering calmly from the bright sun. This is an off year for lambing, part of a cycle designed to support both the animals and the land.

A mixed flock of chickens moves through pasture at AOOA Farm, trailed by two ever-vigilant geese—part livestock, part security detail. Photo: Beth Fox

That balance is central to the farm’s practice of silvopasture, a 20th-century term for a system that is at least a couple of thousand years old, which integrates trees, pasture, and livestock. Fruit and fodder trees provide shade and food. Animals fertilize the soil. Crops benefit from a more stable environment that adapts well to changing weather and long-term sustainability. Alix sums it up: “Biodiversity is resiliency!”

I am drawn to AOOA’s ethos, yet I have also learned from other farmers that short-term financial realities often take precedence over long-term ideals and best practices. I ask Alix the hard question: How is the farm sustainable? This is an uncommon place, sustained in part by the D’Artagnan Foundation. After more than 40 years building D’Artagnan, the specialty meat and charcuterie company trusted by leading restaurants, Ariane sold the business in 2022 and established the foundation, which now helps support the farm.

Most farms do not have that luxury. Alix pauses and shares a brief and impassioned perspective: “That’s about who owns and stewards land in this country,” then explains that AOOA is intentionally a teaching tool. It operates as a nonprofit education center as much as a working farm, with the goal of promoting these agricultural and culinary practices by example. The Daguins also want to make healthful food more accessible. In addition to using its produce on site, the farm regularly donates fresh produce to the nearby Florida Community Food Pantry.

A communal table at AOOA Farm offers a spread of seasonal dishes—frittata, tartines, salads—served steps from the garden beds that supply them. Photo: Alix Daguin

Back at the kitchen, that philosophy carries through. Produce grown in tunnels feeds directly into the menu, which leans on eggs, fresh herbs, and what’s in season. Outside, picnic tables fill as dishes are passed through a window on trays painted with flowers. The plates are mismatched, vintage, nothing disposable.

While we wait, we drink coffee and nibble savory-sweet, rosemary shortbread. Bilou, a particularly friendly goose, circles the table, honking and occasionally taking a quick nibble at my ankle. Determined to share our meal, the goose is eventually distracted by a two-year-old eager to play hide-and-seek.

When our plates of chicken pot pie, roasted rainbow carrots, and mini egg salad bites arrive, Paul returns, joined by Glen, a slightly smaller golden hound who rests his head in my lap. Ariane stops by to say hello and invite us to the bar after our meal. She also offers a warning. “That one [Glen] is a beggar; the other one [Paul] is a thief.

The meal is simple and deeply satisfying. Chocolate mousse and creme caramel are just sweet enough, served in adorable, mini jam jars. Given the family’s roots, it is easy to imagine this as an everyday life in the French countryside. Nearby, a couple sip a purple and pink cocktail topped with edible flowers as their rotisserie chicken and sides are prepared. The scene captures something essential about the farm: it is relaxed and thoughtful, carefully composed yet inviting.

AOOA’s small-batch liqueurs—made from fruit, herbs, and botanicals grown on the farm—are distilled in Goshen and produced in limited quantities for tastings and sale. Photo: Danielle Caldwell.

Inside, at the bar, Ariane shares more about her background. Though her father was a celebrated chef who made Gascony a food destination, what seems to stand out most to her however is not his fame but his advocacy. He pushed back against a tax system that placed a heavier burden on small restaurants than on fast food chains.

Gascony is also known for Armagnac, a brandy less famous than Cognac but often preferred. At AOOA, Ariane draws on that tradition in her own way. She works with one of the smallest stills in the area and sources neutral spirits from Warwick Valley Winery & Distillery. Fruits, vegetables, and herbs grown on the farm are macerated for months before being distilled into French-inspired liqueurs and spirits. There is just enough production for tastings, cocktails, and a small number of bottles for sale. The cherry liqueur is gone for now, which feels less like a disappointment and more like a reason to return in summer.

The process is slow and deliberate, much like the farm itself. AOOA is not trying to replicate the past. It uses it as a foundation, shaping something responsive to the present. Visitors come for a meal, a workshop, or simply a walk through the property. What they find is a system at work, connecting food, land, and people through action and a steady sense of purpose.

Join the Conversation

1 Comment

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *