NEW YORK — For 27-year-old Ben Sippel, a steady push for greater efficiency on his Ohio farm has meant tossing freshly washed batches of lettuce into the washing machine's spin cycle and tracking expenses with painstaking precision.

While such steps — sterilizing an old washing machine to run loads of bagged lettuce — aren't unusual on small farms, Sippel's bid to hold down costs and make it as a full-time farmer began with a more prosaic gambit: Do away with the middleman.

Rather than selling to distributors or grocery stores, a growing number of farmers enlist fresh-food devotees to pay in advance for their own slice of a farm's bounty.

"It was easier to go to the bank and say, 'We have these people who want to buy our produce,' " said Sippel, who grew up in the suburbs. It was during college that he developed an interest in agriculture that tries to do right by the environment by largely hewing to organic principles.

Referred to in shorthand as a CSA, for community supported agriculture, these arrangements require consumers to pay upfront, or at least make an early down payment, for a share of what the farm produces. Though exact figures are harder to come by than the lettuce, tomatoes and peppers the Sippels grow on their land, the number of farmers forging direct financial ties with those who eat their food has increased in recent years, observers say.

Estimates put the number of CSAs at 1,500 or so nationwide.

For the Sippels and others like them, forming a CSA seemed the best way to carve out a living from farming.

Typically, farmers retain about 19 cents of every dollar in food they sell. The rest goes to things like processing, transportation and marketing. With CSAs, farmers don't have to spend as much, helping boost their earnings.

"Costs are pretty out of control right now," Sippel said, referring to demand for land and the rising prices of supplies for the 77-acre farm he runs with his wife, Lisa, in Mount Gilead, an Ohio village of about 3,300 people.

Sippel said getting a predictable payment early in the season makes it easier to balance expenses.

Once a week or so, shareholders stop by the farm or a designated spot to pick up their allotment. The mix of fruits and vegetables — and, in some instances, meat and dairy products — often shifts as different foods become available, but each CSA shareholder is usually apportioned the same amount and variety of food.

The Sippels added 25 shareholders this year, bringing the total to 175; they charge $560 for a share that covers about 30 weeks of food — a bit more than 20 or so weeks that is typical of many CSAs in their area.

James Sturz, a writer in New York, says he saves money by participating in a CSA, but adds that the financial benefits weren't what motivated him.

"I was someone who wanted to be a healthy eater and I saw this is as my opportunity, as well as a chance to participate in a farm cycle."

Andrea Beaman, a self-described holistic health counselor, said her interest in fresh, locally grown food produced without pesticides led her to CSAs. Beaman, who has a frying pan hanging from her living room wall signed by fellow contestants on the reality show "Top Chef," teaches classes on healthful cooking.

"The people who are eating locally now are the people who were eating organic four to five years ago," she said. "It's a natural progression."

While often bountiful, farming can also produce headaches and financial hardship. Unlike farmers' markets, where shoppers can bypass wilted lettuce or bruised vegetables, both CSA farmers and shareholders face risks such as disease or damaging weather.

This allows farmers to spread some of the financial risks of farming beyond simply depending on insurance policies.

"Part of insulating risk is the number of plantings and the diversity of crops we raise," Sippel said, noting that generally one crop a year will fail but that other harvests make up for the loss.

Sippel noted that some CSAs fail because they don't set their prices high enough or give participants too much food, making consumers feel wasteful and hesitant to participate in future years.

Deborah Kavakos, a farmer in South Cairo, N.Y., grows fruit and vegetables for 10 of the 50 or so CSAs in New York City and this year saw the number of participants in her CSAs reach capacity months earlier than in years past.

To keep spirits high and avoid groans like "Not more broccoli!" CSA farmers tend to produce a rich variety of food. Kavakos grows about 45 to 50 crops on the 40 acres she farms with her husband, Pete. This requires an intricate dance to balance planting and harvesting.

"You're continually planting and replanting. In the morning it's mizuna (a Japanese salad green), by the afternoon it's transplanted back to lettuce again," she said.

Despite the hard work, she enjoys the connection with those who eat her food.

"It's absolutely the most rewarding thing that we could've been done with our lives. You get to be very friendly with everybody that's involved."