I love old farm wagons and trucks, especially delivery vehicles. You don't see them very often, at least not in our neck of the woods, but every once in a while they show up at farm fairs. There is a wonderfully unique example at the George Washington Carver exhibit: a wagon he took around to local farmers in the south to explain good farming practices, such as the use of manure and legumes to replenish the soil -- I didn't know he was a father of organic farming practices. Scroll down a little on the link above and you can see a picture of it.
Today I transformed my plain-jane minivan into a farm delivery truck. One of our lamb customers, who is also a dear friend from our days in Pennsylvania, buys a whole lamb's worth of meat every year from us. Several members of her family are allergic to poultry and so no turkey for them! Unfortunately I didn't take a picture of the crown roast they will be eating for Thanksgiving -- it was truly a thing of beauty; my kids were hugely disappointed in me; you know your kids have a very different frame of mind when they complain that you neglected to show them a particular cut of meat -- before I packed all the various butcher-paper packages up into boxes lined with ice packs, wrapped them all in a comforter, and drove with the AC on to meet her halfway between our house and hers.
Besides her invaluable support of our little farming venture, I also appreciate the fact that this arrangement gives us at least one chance every year to see each other in person and have a cup of coffee together. The same function had to have been served by the old delivery vehicles as well -- a chance to get off the farm and visit with other people, not to mention the deep satisfaction produced by seeing the fruits of your labor provide sustenance to others.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
women vs skins
After last year's sheepskin debacle, I was firmly convinced that there was absolutely no way that I was undertaking that chore again. The resulting pelts did turn out to be quite beautiful; they sold fairly quickly; they were well appreciated by the people who bought them (and by my brother, who received one as gift). But still... no way.
Famous last words, of course.
As I was loading the sheep on the trailer, I noticed that all three had absolutely stunning fleeces. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bear to throw them away. So when I dropped them off at the butcher, I asked them to save the skins, but to absolutely make sure to cut the legs off first. (They thought this was pretty funny. Butcher humor.)
Unluckily for me, I didn't realize that another 4-H family had an appointment with the butcher the same day (because given the night I had, and the trouble we had hooking our trailer to the truck due to a broken trailer jack, I would have gladly paid them to haul ours down there as well and save me the trouble). Luckily for me, the other dad recognized our sheep when he dropped theirs off. Their kids had insisted they save the skins this year, so we made a deal: they would pick up all the meat from the butcher, and I would take the skins to the tannery.
The meat arrived yesterday, and we all realized that we had no room in our respective freezers for the pelts, so we would have to defrost them immediately. It was at this point that the husband announced that he was going to work that night (he is a long-distance truck driver) and so he would not be around to perform the cleaning chores when the skins defrosted. Time is of the essence when this happens: the skins must be cleaned, salted and delivered to the tannery within the next 24 hours.
And, oh yeah, my LSH had to go to work earlier than usual this morning.
So guess who got stuck with the job? That's right, the women. I have to give Norma props. She initially tried to back out last night with some excuse about her daughter and a dental appointment, but I told her she wasn't getting out of it that easily. When the rubber hit the road this morning, however, she took to it much more quickly than I did last year and got right down to business with the knife and scissors. We chatted companionably away while we cleaned, scraped and cut; I can only imagine that we looked like some tale right out of greek mythology to the uninitiated observer. In short order we had all five skins cleaned, salted, and bagged to go.
I considered titling this post "girls vs skins" but it really didn't fit the circumstances. No way could girls have pulled this one off. What's that song? "We can bring home the sheepskins, clean them out in the yard." Or something like that.
Famous last words, of course.
As I was loading the sheep on the trailer, I noticed that all three had absolutely stunning fleeces. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bear to throw them away. So when I dropped them off at the butcher, I asked them to save the skins, but to absolutely make sure to cut the legs off first. (They thought this was pretty funny. Butcher humor.)
Unluckily for me, I didn't realize that another 4-H family had an appointment with the butcher the same day (because given the night I had, and the trouble we had hooking our trailer to the truck due to a broken trailer jack, I would have gladly paid them to haul ours down there as well and save me the trouble). Luckily for me, the other dad recognized our sheep when he dropped theirs off. Their kids had insisted they save the skins this year, so we made a deal: they would pick up all the meat from the butcher, and I would take the skins to the tannery.
The meat arrived yesterday, and we all realized that we had no room in our respective freezers for the pelts, so we would have to defrost them immediately. It was at this point that the husband announced that he was going to work that night (he is a long-distance truck driver) and so he would not be around to perform the cleaning chores when the skins defrosted. Time is of the essence when this happens: the skins must be cleaned, salted and delivered to the tannery within the next 24 hours.
And, oh yeah, my LSH had to go to work earlier than usual this morning.
So guess who got stuck with the job? That's right, the women. I have to give Norma props. She initially tried to back out last night with some excuse about her daughter and a dental appointment, but I told her she wasn't getting out of it that easily. When the rubber hit the road this morning, however, she took to it much more quickly than I did last year and got right down to business with the knife and scissors. We chatted companionably away while we cleaned, scraped and cut; I can only imagine that we looked like some tale right out of greek mythology to the uninitiated observer. In short order we had all five skins cleaned, salted, and bagged to go.
I considered titling this post "girls vs skins" but it really didn't fit the circumstances. No way could girls have pulled this one off. What's that song? "We can bring home the sheepskins, clean them out in the yard." Or something like that.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
things that are pleasing me mightily
Every so often, there are just those little things in your life that please you beyond all measure, certainly more than such little things have a right to do. I am a firm believer that paying attention to these little things, and letting them do their work, is the key to being just a bit happier as you go about your business.
A prime example: EZPass Express Lanes. They are a wonder. Leaving aside all that "do we have to pay tolls, our tolls are so high, the government is so corrupt, blah blah blah" (because there is really nothing to be positively gained by going down that particular road), is there anything better than whizzing under those metal contraptions, not even having to slow down, as the money is deducted from your account?
As I said, more pleasure than such little things have a right to confer.
Another example: my new tapestry needle. As predicted, I misplace it and then panic about misplacing it on a regular basis. But once I locate it and use it: Oh Joy! It is so beautiful. It is so easy to thread no matter how bulky the yarn. It does its job so well.
Here it is doing its job on my new fingerless gloves, that I crafted Out of My Head! in just a Few Short Hours! that use up Just the Right Amount of Leftover Yarn!
(For the record, the yarn is Lamb's Pride Bulky in Wild Violet. I will try to get the pattern written up and posted when I get a chance. I am thinking it would be a great pattern for someone using double pointed needles for the first time.)
So what was your little thing today?
A prime example: EZPass Express Lanes. They are a wonder. Leaving aside all that "do we have to pay tolls, our tolls are so high, the government is so corrupt, blah blah blah" (because there is really nothing to be positively gained by going down that particular road), is there anything better than whizzing under those metal contraptions, not even having to slow down, as the money is deducted from your account?
As I said, more pleasure than such little things have a right to confer.
Another example: my new tapestry needle. As predicted, I misplace it and then panic about misplacing it on a regular basis. But once I locate it and use it: Oh Joy! It is so beautiful. It is so easy to thread no matter how bulky the yarn. It does its job so well.
Here it is doing its job on my new fingerless gloves, that I crafted Out of My Head! in just a Few Short Hours! that use up Just the Right Amount of Leftover Yarn!
(For the record, the yarn is Lamb's Pride Bulky in Wild Violet. I will try to get the pattern written up and posted when I get a chance. I am thinking it would be a great pattern for someone using double pointed needles for the first time.)
So what was your little thing today?
Monday, November 16, 2009
broccoli cole slaw
This post is for Peg, who requested this information approximately five months ago. I am all about the timely response.
This recipe is one of the most complimented, and most requested, that I have in my (admittedly limited) repertoire. I ask people what I can bring to a shindig, they ask me to bring this.
Start with two packages of Mann's Broccoli Slaw, which you can find in the produce aisle (although it can be a bit tricky to get on the weekend, especially during the summer).
Add one cup of unsalted sunflower seeds.
Lightly toast one cup of slivered almonds (the toasting is one of the keys to the flavor, but be careful: they burn quickly!). After cooling, add to the bowl.
Break apart the ramen noodles in two packages of beef flavor. I like to pound them to release a little pent-up frustration, but try not to pound too hard or you will end up with (1) powdered ramen noodles and/or (2) ramen noodles shooting out the end of the package.
Add the ramen noodles to the mix, setting aside the flavor packets.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the contents of the flavor packets, 1/2 C sugar (I try to cut this down from time to time in the interest of health but my family immediately flags me), 1/3 C apple cider vinegar and 2/3 C olive oil.
Pour over the mixture and stir well, making sure everything gets well coated. You can refrigerate at this point, or serve immediately.
Options: a handful of dried cranberries, thinly-sliced green onions (though perhaps not with the cranberries), adding dressing just before serving (I like it to soak into the noodles a little bit, but if you prefer crispy noodles, this is the way to go).
It's that easy; at this point, both my older boys can make it on their own. (We are asked to bring it all the time!) Just don't bother making it if you are coming to a party or potluck with me, because I am probably already bringing it.
This recipe is one of the most complimented, and most requested, that I have in my (admittedly limited) repertoire. I ask people what I can bring to a shindig, they ask me to bring this.
Start with two packages of Mann's Broccoli Slaw, which you can find in the produce aisle (although it can be a bit tricky to get on the weekend, especially during the summer).
Add one cup of unsalted sunflower seeds.
Lightly toast one cup of slivered almonds (the toasting is one of the keys to the flavor, but be careful: they burn quickly!). After cooling, add to the bowl.
Break apart the ramen noodles in two packages of beef flavor. I like to pound them to release a little pent-up frustration, but try not to pound too hard or you will end up with (1) powdered ramen noodles and/or (2) ramen noodles shooting out the end of the package.
Add the ramen noodles to the mix, setting aside the flavor packets.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the contents of the flavor packets, 1/2 C sugar (I try to cut this down from time to time in the interest of health but my family immediately flags me), 1/3 C apple cider vinegar and 2/3 C olive oil.
Pour over the mixture and stir well, making sure everything gets well coated. You can refrigerate at this point, or serve immediately.
Options: a handful of dried cranberries, thinly-sliced green onions (though perhaps not with the cranberries), adding dressing just before serving (I like it to soak into the noodles a little bit, but if you prefer crispy noodles, this is the way to go).
It's that easy; at this point, both my older boys can make it on their own. (We are asked to bring it all the time!) Just don't bother making it if you are coming to a party or potluck with me, because I am probably already bringing it.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
magic garden
Today we ignored a leaky pipe in the basement (and few resulting puddles) and the chores that are always hanging about, and snuck outta Dodge for a bit. My LSH has been working like a dog given how sick everyone is at the moment -- and I am not just talking about my kids. He needed to get away.
So we hightailed it down to Philly, and had a dim sum lunch in Chinatown, and went to the Academy of Natural Sciences (which we had not been to before; the boys were suitably shocked) and then in the quest for a Philly cheesesteak, we came upon the Magic Garden on South Street in Philly. Make sure to click on the link and watch the slideshow for a bit. The place is unlike anything I have ever seen. The artist, Isaiah Zagar, has created this amazing giant mosiac in an empty lot, with more tunnels and twists and turns than you can imagine. It took him 14 years to complete, and incorporates bits of tile and glass, bottles, statues, bicycle tires, and other found objects. We all walked around and around and around it again, because it was so rich in detail that you couldn't take it in all at once. Our mouths hung open at the thought of all the work that had gone into it. Primo wondered aloud "Where would you even start?"
We never did get the cheesesteak as the lines were ridiculously long, but no one complained. That garden had given us plenty of food for thought. Take the time to search it out the next time you find yourself in Philly. You won't be disappointed, and you may even be inspired.
So we hightailed it down to Philly, and had a dim sum lunch in Chinatown, and went to the Academy of Natural Sciences (which we had not been to before; the boys were suitably shocked) and then in the quest for a Philly cheesesteak, we came upon the Magic Garden on South Street in Philly. Make sure to click on the link and watch the slideshow for a bit. The place is unlike anything I have ever seen. The artist, Isaiah Zagar, has created this amazing giant mosiac in an empty lot, with more tunnels and twists and turns than you can imagine. It took him 14 years to complete, and incorporates bits of tile and glass, bottles, statues, bicycle tires, and other found objects. We all walked around and around and around it again, because it was so rich in detail that you couldn't take it in all at once. Our mouths hung open at the thought of all the work that had gone into it. Primo wondered aloud "Where would you even start?"
We never did get the cheesesteak as the lines were ridiculously long, but no one complained. That garden had given us plenty of food for thought. Take the time to search it out the next time you find yourself in Philly. You won't be disappointed, and you may even be inspired.
Friday, November 13, 2009
end of story
The last time I left you, I had a mess of cashew something-or-another on my candy-cooling board and a lot more to make before the church bazaar tomorrow. (Let the record reflect that I DID NOT VOLUNTEER for this duty. I was asked by the parish priest. And who can say no in those circumstances?)
I know that my candy-making issues won't cause anyone to lose sleep while awaiting the outcome, but I have to take a moment to give a shout out to my LSH. I'll be the first to admit it: he is the true brittle-making expert in the house, and he came to my rescue, yet again.
While I was dragging a very grumpy teenage boy to yet another high school tour last night, my LSH and his minions were busy making brittle. I came home to find all three batches were done and ready for packaging. Here's what the brittle should look like (he was so efficient that I didn't have a chance to take a picture while it was spread out on the candy stone):
Good enough to eat, right? Unlike Wednesday's disaster.
One more thing off the list, at least for the moment. I have full confidence that ten more things will take its place before I can blink.
I know that my candy-making issues won't cause anyone to lose sleep while awaiting the outcome, but I have to take a moment to give a shout out to my LSH. I'll be the first to admit it: he is the true brittle-making expert in the house, and he came to my rescue, yet again.
While I was dragging a very grumpy teenage boy to yet another high school tour last night, my LSH and his minions were busy making brittle. I came home to find all three batches were done and ready for packaging. Here's what the brittle should look like (he was so efficient that I didn't have a chance to take a picture while it was spread out on the candy stone):
Good enough to eat, right? Unlike Wednesday's disaster.
One more thing off the list, at least for the moment. I have full confidence that ten more things will take its place before I can blink.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
take note
If you need to make cashew brittle for the church bazaar this Saturday, and your closest grocery store is out of the red bottle Karo syrup, and only has this on the shelf:
EVEN IF you are kinda feeling weak and shaky because you have just completed your first day of catch-up errands after being under the weather for so long, which included a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles with your LSH's pickup truck, because he doesn't pay attention to such things as inspection sticker deadlines and the inspection was four months overdue and the truck held up the entire works while a group of DMV workers did Special Tests to see if they would pass it or not (they did, but you were A Spectacle nonetheless); and
EVEN IF you have an impatient teenage boy at home waiting to be ferried to his orthodontist appointment so he can have a prayer of getting those braces off before he is old enough to drive said pickup truck (two more years, but at the rate his teeth are moving, it will be a race to the finish); and
EVEN IF you justify the purchase of the wrong kind of syrup by thinking that you are doing the bazaar-customers a favor by buying the "healthy" syrup even though you know, deep down in your heart, that it may be OK for pecan pies and such but it probably will not be OK for such fiddly things as candy-making;
RESIST THE URGE TO BUY IT.
Because your candy will come out looking like this (which is not a good thing):
EVEN IF you are kinda feeling weak and shaky because you have just completed your first day of catch-up errands after being under the weather for so long, which included a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles with your LSH's pickup truck, because he doesn't pay attention to such things as inspection sticker deadlines and the inspection was four months overdue and the truck held up the entire works while a group of DMV workers did Special Tests to see if they would pass it or not (they did, but you were A Spectacle nonetheless); and
EVEN IF you have an impatient teenage boy at home waiting to be ferried to his orthodontist appointment so he can have a prayer of getting those braces off before he is old enough to drive said pickup truck (two more years, but at the rate his teeth are moving, it will be a race to the finish); and
EVEN IF you justify the purchase of the wrong kind of syrup by thinking that you are doing the bazaar-customers a favor by buying the "healthy" syrup even though you know, deep down in your heart, that it may be OK for pecan pies and such but it probably will not be OK for such fiddly things as candy-making;
RESIST THE URGE TO BUY IT.
Because your candy will come out looking like this (which is not a good thing):
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