WEEHAWKEN, N.J. (AP) — Here on a hillside farm, a hundred feet from the Lincoln Tunnel, a rooster crowed. It was 8:16 a.m., the peak of the Monday morning crush into New York City. Bus brakes squealed. A trucker's horn boomed out as cars inched down the J-shaped helix and into the tunnel's mouth.

The rooster paused; then it crowed again. Konstantinos Natsis, owner of rooster and farm, was busy curling a tomato plant's young green vine around a trellis of white plastic twine. When he turned to look at the traffic jam, his gray eyebrows lifted, as if surprised to see the tunnel — this famous, di...