Text by Jenny Rosenstrach

As we pull back the canvas door to our cabin at Stony Creek Farm in Walton, New York, my 6-year-old asks, "Is this place real?" She uses her gas lantern (no electricity, natch) to examine the wood-burning stove, the icebox, the enclosed bunk bedroom with hearts carved into the pine doors, the sweet little speckled-tin cups hanging from the shelves, and I see her trying to place the experience.

Is this the hugest dollhouse ever? Has she landed inside her "Little House" books? It certainly isn't our typical weekend away in a yuppified New England town complete with another B and B, organic coffeehouse, and Greek Revival church, circa 1840.

Of course, the idea of this farm as a pretend world couldn't be further from the way its proprietors, Dan and Kate Marsiglio, want their guests to think of it. The couple, who have two kids (Lucia, 6, and Isaac, 3, pictured here with Kate), opened their land to visitors last year with a simple goal: to educate people -- specifically families -- about where real food comes from.

"It was a natural direction for us," says Kate, who, like Dan, is a former teacher. "We were never going to be a high-production farm specializing in one product, so when we heard about farm stays, it seemed serendipitous."

A decades-long tradition in Europe, farm stays are gaining popularity in the United States as farmers seek ways to defray mounting costs and vacationers seek authentic back-to-the-land experiences. At Stony Creek (stonycreekfarm.org), you wake to roosters crowing, hike up the creek to a wading pond, pick your own vegetables for dinner, fry sausages made from the farm's Tamworth pigs, and collect eggs so freshly laid, they're still warm.

Beyond the primal satisfaction all this brings, there's also the philosophical kind. Until this trip, I was an intellectual member of the farm-to-fork movement, eating my locally grown greens in hipster restaurants, reading about struggling farmers in The New York Times, shopping my farmers' market. But to actually witness (and partake in) all of the hard work that goes into every meal takes that understanding to a new level.

Stony Creek has partnered with Holland-based Feather Down Farms (featherdown.com) to provide rustically chic guest accommodations. While it's true that paying more than $200 a night for the privilege of simple living runs up against a certain authenticity threshold, it's nice after a long afternoon spent harvesting brussels sprouts to have a hot shower, fluffy bed linens, and an unmanned "honesty shop" down the hill stocked with local foods. (Purchases are signed out and settled up at the end of your stay.)

Since 2004, FDF has worked with close to 50 family-run farms in Europe and three in the U.S.; the company's business model is all about supporting farmers, who keep a percentage of the lodging cost and 100 percent of the profits from items purchased by guests.

All of FDFs' cabins look the same -- right down to the kitchen utensils next to the wood-burning stove. (Note: One does not need more than two ladles, a spatula, and a slotted spoon to cook well.) But that's where the similarities end.

"We don't mold the farmers," says Paula Disbrowe, who is spearheading Feather Down Farms' American expansion. "Some farmers are natural hosts, some are shyer. That makes it a truer, richer experience." She claims that people are tired of "corporate, plastic" vacations where, say, you end up on a double-decker bus wearing a cowboy hat. "At a Feather Down farm, it's about the quality of things done, not the quantity."

To that end, the most satisfying approach to these trips is to wholly embrace unplugged living. Kids seem to get this instinctively. One morning I found one daughter in the rocker nursing a doll -- "Look, Mom, I'm Mary Ingalls!" -- and the other sweeping the cabin floor, wearing a kerchief tied around her head. For grown-ups, though, the most obvious way to get lost in the experience is through the food. The entire day seems to consist of a series of minor challenges that all lead in one direction: dinner.

When you're getting harvesting instructions from Kate and Dan in the morning, you're deciding which available green your kids will like most. If you go for a hike, you plan to return in time to start the fire in the stove. It might seem one-tracked, but that's sort of the point. There is something tremendously satisfying about coaxing water to boil on a stove by stoking a fire, or eating corn your child picked a few hours earlier. And should any of this intimidate you, Kate and Dan are around for recipe recommendations or guidance.

If all this sounds like one big Foodie Fetishization Fest, rest assured, Feather Down selects farms with many other activities nearby -- hiking, biking, horseback riding, canoeing -- most of which take advantage of the picturesque surroundings. And those yuppified towns? You can usually find one in the area, just in case you miss seeing the word "artisanal" across a store window.

But one warning: Back home, you might start questioning things. Your 15,000-BTU stove (15,000 BTUs!), the 10 pounds of trash you generate daily, the packed after-school schedule. The good news is, your kids will, too. A few hours after our return, I asked my daughter why she was staring into the backyard. She said, "Just trying to see where we could put our compost pile."

All across the country, organic farms are opening their barn doors to overnight visitors. Check out five other places where you and your family can hit the hay.