Dog Days of Summer

We're keeping cool as best we can, Abigail and I enjoy our pool in afternoon, while Kanye digs himself holes in the backyard to nestle into. Silly dog. He loves the spot behind the rosebush underneath our bedroom window. He looks like a different dog than he did last fall when we took him in. He went from 40 pounds to 80, and his heart is just so loving. He loves to be brushed, and scratched, and kissed and hugged. It's as if he's always been here.

The garden is producing like nobody's business. We eat our fill of peppers and zucchini nearly everyday. Now to do something with the beets!

Verne and I are training for a fall marathon. We both got a kick out of the above cartoon a fellow running friend shared. These hot days have been difficult for long runs. I don't want to wish my days away, but I am looking forward to the cooler weather.

July has been productive out of the garden, too. This quilt sat for over a year, and only lacked the binding. After finishing Collin's quilt last Saturday, I decided it was high time to finish this one too. I finished the binding last Tuesday and placed it on the queen-sized air mattress in the spare room. It looks much nicer than having the room sit entirely empty.

Strawberry Shortcake and Other Deliciousness

Let me apologize for the quality of the photos in this post. I've gotten quite lazy about getting out my good camera. It's so easy to grab my phone that I've neglected real documentation. Ugh... note to self- get back to real photos!

We didn't get near as many berries from the garden this year as we have in the two years prior. Too much rain, and not enough sunshine makes for a poor berry season. Thankfully we've had lots of strawberry shortcake. Not enough, but we'll be thankful for what we've had. ;-)

Strawberry Shortcake

Scones:

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 cup granulated white sugar

1 tbls baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup cold unsalted butter

1 large egg, lightly beaten

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup cream, half and half, or milk

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F and place rack in middle of oven. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Cut the butter into small pieces and blend into the flour mixture with a pastry blender or two knives. The mixture should look like coarse crumbs. Whisk together the egg, cream and vanilla extract and add to the flour mixture, mixing just until the dough comes together. Do not over mix the dough.

Transfer to a lightly floured surface and knead dough gently four or five times and then pat or roll the dough into a 7 inch round. With a 3 inch round cookie cutter, cut out rounds and place the scones on the baking sheet. Bake for about 15 minutes or until nicely browned and a toothpick inserted in the center of a scone comes out clean. Transfer to a wire rack.

Filling:

2 pounds fresh strawberries

1/4 cup - 1/3 cup granulated white sugar (or to taste)

Wash, hull, and slice the strawberries. Place about one third of the strawberries in a large bowl and crush them with a potato masher or fork. Add the remaining sliced strawberries, along with the sugar.  Cover and refrigerate.

Topping:

1 cup cold heavy whipping cream

1 - 2 tablespoons granulated white sugar (or to taste)

Chill the bowl and whisk in the freezer for about 15 - 30 minutes. Place the cream and sugar in the bowl and whip until stiff peaks form. The whipped cream can be covered and stored in the refrigerator for a few hours.

To Serve: Cut the scones in half and place the bottom half of the scone (soft side up) on a dessert plate. Top with some of the strawberries and whipped cream. Place the top half of the scone on the strawberries. Top with whipped cream and a few more strawberries. If there is any juice from the strawberries, drizzle a little over the top of the scone. Serve immediately.

Serves 8 people.

Not to worry; we've made some healthier things with our berries, too. 

Lunch Date

It's been 61 days since I started my 30 day vegan experiment. Up until today, I've had ice cream once, and salmon (in very small amounts), mixed with pasta, twice. As I said from the beginning, it's not that I'm morally opposed to eating meat, but when I do eat it, I want to know where it's coming from. No more supermarket variety. I want real, hormone and antibiotic-free, grass-fed meat. Around here, it's difficult to come by, and so I've stayed (mostly) vegan*.

During my experiment, Verne noticed he was feeling better and better, too. I didn't anticipate this happening, but was quite pleased when he stopped complaining of stomach troubles. He never took an interest in nutrition before, but was suddenly asking more questions, and agreed that eating at small, local eateries when he was traveling was better than eating at large chain-type restaurants. Again, in our area, those are difficult to come by.

BUT! Several months back, I was on Facebook one morning, and noticed that a friend had posted a link to a restaurant about an hour from us. This restaurant features local meat that met my criteria, fresh, local vegetables, and homemade breads and desserts. He raved about the food. But an hour is kinda far...

Today, Verne surprised me by driving me that hour for a lunch date. He's discovered that not only does he feel better when he eats local foods grown "like they should be", the food tastes better, too. He wanted me to enjoy some local fare as well.

We were quite surprised that we had to wait 30 minutes in this small town in the middle of nowhere at one o'clock in the afternoon to get a table. The wait was worth it.

What did I order?

A 1/3 pound burger made from fresh, local grass fed beef, topped with locally produced cheddar, roasted garlic mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, and grilled red onion on a buttermilk roll. Oh! And homemade fries. YUM! Boy, was I stuffed.



*I've also eaten our own eggs from time to time. 

Sunday Dinner

*~ WARNING! ~*

This post contains photos that may upset the faint of heart. If you are easily upset by blood/death, you will want to skip this one.

This Sunday dinner was no usual Sunday dinner for our family, but OH! how I wish it were.

Way back in May, our family became the owners of 12 little chicks. They arrived at our home the day after they were hatched, and we have loved them and cared for them each day- teaching them first how to drink, and then eat, cuddling them close during those first few weeks before they could move to the coop. We check on them constantly throughout the day, providing fresh water, plenty of organically grown food from our garden, and lots of fresh grass. We made sure their pen was large enough to exercise. And then we discovered, as the chicks grew, that two of the twelve "hens" that we ordered were actually roosters.

I knew, in my heart of hearts, that one of these fellas was going to have to go eventually, but we played the "wait and see" game. If indeed they could peaceably get along, then we would keep them. If not, one would end up on the table.

Several months went by, and though I was feeling sorry for the hens, who were getting "serviced" every half-hour, or so it seemed, there didn't seem to be any problems between the two roosters. Until about two weeks ago, that is. I had the windows open, and heard a ruckus going on outside. As I went to investigate, I saw the roosters in the middle of a cock-fight. This wasn't good. The white rooster, an Easter Egger chicken affectionately known as Rosemary (remember, we thought he was a hen!), ended up with a swollen eye, and was walking very carefully after the fight. Penny (remember the hen thing?), had taken the worst of it. His comb and wattles were bleeding and he looked like he'd just lost a boxing match.

Penny has been, by far, the better rooster of the two, always looking out for the welfare of the hens before himself, and I didn't want to see him hurt. Rosemary had to go.

Never having butchered an animal before, I was thankful to know Pete and Julee from the farmer's market. They've been raising chickens for several years, and always process their own birds. They invited us to bring our rooster to their place, and they would talk us through it.

Yes, our children came along. I believe that God gave us animals for many reasons, and one of those reasons is to sustain us. I find it sad that many children, or even adults today, have no idea that a hamburger comes from a cow, or that sausage comes from a pig. Knowing where our food comes from, and what an animal goes through, helps us to be good stewards of what God gives us as well as enabling us to make educated decisions about what we eat.

Rosemary was a much loved chicken. He led a good life- right up to the end, and our entire family agreed that the butchering process was in no way traumatic. In fact, it was very peaceful.

Verne was instructed to hold the rooster by the legs, holding him upside down. This immediately calmed the rooster, and he didn't struggle at all as he was tied to the fence.

The feathers were pulled down to expose the skin underneath, and his throat was slit. Again, there was no struggle, and this happened very quickly. In killing an animal this way, the blood drains from the meat, and the meat is left very clean.

Julee scalded the chicken that they were processing alongside ours, and began plucking feathers while Verne scalded our rooster.

The feathers were plucked, the rooster was butchered, and immediately refrigerated.

We left Pete and Julee with a jar of Caramel Spice Pear Butter as a thank-you for having us.

We all anticipated Sunday's dinner when we'd be eating our own meat. Not only that, but we had potatoes from our garden, our own beets, and home-canned fruit for dessert.

I can't begin to describe how satisfying it is to partake of a meal that you have raised in entirety. We felt like it was Thanksgiving a few weeks early.

Keeping it real, folks! Don't you love the ironing board set up in the dining room while we ate? and the color splashes on the walls? I'm trying to decide a new color, and painted swatches to get a better feel for the colors. It's so much better than deciding off of a paint chip!

Luncheon on Main Street

With the autumn weather comes the end of the farmer's market. The past two times I went, I didn't make enough money to make it worth my time, and decided to call it quits for the year. Truthfully, I'm ready for a slower pace, but I will miss the extra money.

And then, very late Monday night, Tuesday morning really, I received an e-mail from a woman who frequents the farmer's market, and is also in charge of our local Slow Food group. She wondered if I might be able to make desserts for Thursday's luncheon. She requested that I use as many local ingredients as possible. My wheels started turning.

What's in season locally? The apples are gone, but there are still pumpkins. I promised to call the apple guy, and I did.

I just can't tell you how much I've enjoyed the market this summer. When I called Ronnie and explained what I needed, he told me to come on down. Abigail and I drove through the country Tuesday evening to pick up a few apples for Bavarian Apple Torte (pictured above). We were not only given enough apples to make my dessert, but he gave us an entire bag from his personal stash, as he quit selling several weeks ago. He threw in a bag of pears, too. And to top it all off, he wouldn't accept a dime.

Back to the luncheon. Another e-mail asked me to also please provide the bread for the meal. Variety is always good, so along with the torte I made a pumpkin cheesecake, and a blueberry-swirl cheesecake. No, blueberries aren't in season, but part of Slow Food and eating locally means preparing for winter. I was able to go to the freezer and pull out blueberries from July. ( I ate a handful frozen just for good measure, too!) Just in case someone doesn't like cheesecake, I added Blackberry Almond Shortbread Thumbprint cookies, made with my own jam.

God provides, that's for sure. The market may be over, but I got an order to take it's place, and then some! Now, where is that slower pace?

Pumpkin Shortage? HA!

I had a very difficult time last year finding canned pumpkin for pies, scones, muffins, pumpkin rolls, and cheesecakes, and I missed it. Desperately. I enjoy pumpkin- not only in the fall, but year round.

Sometime last winter I picked up Barbara Kingsolver's book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and it completely changed my way of thinking. Why did I just buy pumpkin from cans when fresh was readily available? Expense? Ease? Perhaps because that's the way I was raised?

The better educated I become on nutrition, the way commercial food is grown, and what's really in it, the more convinced I am that we need to know exactly who is raising our food. It's why we started a small flock of chickens in the spring, why we grew a garden larger than we ever have before, and why I became involved at the farmer's market this year. I'm now grinding grain for flour, and have a grass-fed cow reserved for the spring, from a man that we trust.

I've recently read that butternut squash can be readily substituted for pumpkin in baking, and I'm here to tell you that it's absolutely true. No one would ever know the difference. Just last Saturday I baked Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins for the market, and made sure to tell everyone that I had substituted butternut squash in them. Not one person cared, and they didn't taste any different than they usually do.

If you look at my Preparing for Winter list on my sidebar you'll notice that I've got quite a bit of squash frozen. Plenty to last me throughout the winter, in fact. Total cost? $9. Yes- NINE dollars. In my town, I could have bought 3-4 large cans of Libby's Pumpkin for that. No way is buying canned pumpkin cheaper. Did I mention that I saved the seeds so that I can grow the squash myself next year, or that we fed the pulp to the chickens? The only thing that wasn't used was the skin- which went into the compost pile.

I also bought one large pie pumpkin, and was given two smaller pumpkins. Collin and I cut them up today, and roasted them this afternoon. I have a roaster full of cooked pumpkin that is now being cooked down for Pumpkin Butter. Cost of that roaster full? $3. We fed the stringy pulp to the chickens again, and roasted the seeds. Three cups worth.

There's no pumpkin shortage here!

Gourds and Squash

I can't believe this is the first year I've ever eaten a butternut squash. My, what I've been missing! The adorable little nest egg gourds look wonderful in a bowl on the dining room table, as well as in the laying boxes. They were a sweet little gift from Robert, aka "The Pumpkin Man", a few weeks back. He talked me into a cushaw squash, and I plan to cook it and freeze the flesh for "pumpkin pies" later in the season.

Are you trying anything new this year?

Elderberry Wine

Bartering has become as much a part of attending the farmers' market as buying and selling. Though I offer 19 varieties of jam, a certain man browsing my table was unsatisfied.

"You don't have elderberry?", he inquired. I began to explain that I didn't have a source for elderberries, though they were plentiful in Pennsylvania, my native state. He asked if we might barter. He'd bring me berries in exchange for a few jars of jam that I would produce with them. Deal.

Two days later, Otis arrived bearing two five gallon buckets of berries. Two days after that, he arrived at my table to pick up his jam. The following week, he arrived with two more buckets of berries. And a bottle of homemade wine and cups to serve it in. Several of us had a good chuckle about that. He took more jam, and left me with berries and the wine.

It's been several weeks since the first exchange, and each week, Otis shows up with more berries. To my husband's and sons' delight, he has taken to removing them from the stems for me, and brings them tidily in Ziploc bags. Last week he brought me some frozen deer meat as well. That day he went home with bread, jam, and dessert.

I've been verbally given Otis's recipe, which turns out much lighter than you'd think for elderberry wine.
Twelve days ago, I combined the berries with filtered water and sugar, and set it to work in an ale pail. It's been stirred daily, and tickles me as the natural carbonation works the fruit.

Today was the day to strain the must, and fill the carboy. More water, more sugar, more love.

I hope that in 8-12 months mine tastes as good as his.

You make springs gush forth in the valleys;

they flow between the hills;

they give drink to every beast of the field;

the wild donkeys quench their thirst.

Beside them the birds of the heavens dwell;

they sing among the branches.

From your lofty abode you water the mountains;

the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work.

You cause the grass to grow for the livestock

and plants for man to cultivate,

that he may bring forth food from the earth

and wine to gladden the heart of man,

oil to make his face shine

and bread to strengthen man’s heart.

Psalm 104:10-15 (ESV)

Pears

When some friends invited us to share in the bounty of their organic pear tree, we had no idea what to expect. Upon pulling into the driveway and assessing the size of the tree I figured we'd get a bushel or so.

A bushel or so? HA!

See those baskets? They're half bushel baskets. See the buckets? They're half bushels, too. Then there are the tote bags- they're better than half bushels. The boxes are full bushels. And the Rubbermaid tote? I have no idea.

We brought 11 containers of pears home, and I started with the small containers. I've used three buckets, one basket, and one tote. So far we've gotten 41 quarts of pear halves (and those jars are FULL!), and a gallon of dried pears.

Guess what I'm doing today?

On the Hearth

Watermelon and cantaloupe from our garden; pumpkins from the farmers' market.
It's beginning to feel like autumn.

Stlll here

Finding time to spend on the computer isn't happening much these days. It's just too busy around these parts. In previous years, summer meant long, hot days, iced tea and lemonade, sunburned skin, late night swims to cool off before bed, and lots of campfires in the backyard. This year? It means long hot days spent in the kitchen, feet and legs that ache from standing barefoot on a hard tile floor for 14+ hours most days of the week, canning jars, dehydrators, and freezer bags. It means baking all day long Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and trips to the farmers' market Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday to sell it all.

I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Hard work is satisfying. Painfully, even excruciatingly so.

Not that I haven't always worked hard, mind you, but I'm feeling such a sense of pride in preserving food for my family to enjoy during the cold winter months. Not an arrogant pride. It's just, I don't know... satisfying and comforting all at once. Grocery money has been spent on canning jars because our food bill goes way down when we're eating fresh from the garden. It's a wonderful trade.

I love learning new things, and this year it has been dehydrating. For a large family with no basement or garage to store canned goods, dehydrating is a dream. I'm able to take advantage of cheap, and even free produce, and preserve it with little effort for the coming months. The dehydrator runs for just pennies an hour, and doesn't heat the house up. I'm looking forward to cold mornings and making steel cut oats with apples and pears that I put up this summer.

As evidenced by my ever changing and growing Preparing for Winter list on my sidebar, I'm still canning many, many jars of foodstuffs, and enjoying every minute of it. It thrills me to know that we have enough green beans and corn to have them once a week until next year's harvest. I've never in my life worked this hard over the summer, but it's all good.

Banana Peppers

He goes to work each day and earns the money to support our family. It's my job to see that the money is spent wisely. I find it deeply symbolic that he works hard in the garden and I work hard to preserve it. He and I? We're a good team. In the garden, and out!

I put up 14 half-pints of banana peppers on the heels of 52 pints of salsa. There are more peppers in the garden just waiting for me to place them in jars, too. We love them on homemade pizza and sandwiches.

Here's my method:

Pick banana peppers, and quickly wash them in cool running water. Prepare *half-pint jars by washing them thoroughly and placing them in an oven preheated to 250 F until you're ready to fill them. Place rings and seals in a pan of water on the stove. Heat, but don't boil them.

Remove tops, and slice the peppers into 1/4 inch rings. In a large pot, combine 7 cups water, 7 cups white vinegar, 1 tsp. turmeric and 2 Tbls. canning salt. Bring to a boil. Place banana pepper rings into the hot jars, and place a pinch of Ball Pickle Crisp on top of each jar. Fill jars with hot liquid, leaving 1/4 inch headspace. Wipe rims of jars, place a seal and a ring on each one.

Hot water bath the jars for 10 minutes. Remove to a towel and leave until cool. Check each jar to make sure that it sealed. (The lids should NOT pop up and down!) Wipe jars and label.

* If you choose to use pints rather than half-pints, process them five minutes longer.

Orzo Salad

Black beans, red onions, and tomatoes all grown in the garden. This is a great way to blend them all together.

The recipe can be found at my cooking blog, Mama's Fixins.

Roasted Vegetables

Fresh from the garden: purple cabbage, turnips, red peppers, and carrots sprinkled generously with olive oil and then with kosher salt. Bake at 425 F for one hour.

Robbing the Bees

Our friend's bees, that is. We don't have any. Yet. This year was chickens. Perhaps next spring?

I've been talking about bees for quite some time now, and Verne seemed slightly interested. And then our friend invited us over. He taught Verne how to run the smoker.

There's nothing better than up-close and personal education.

Did I mention that Verne loves honey?

He does.

I think he's more than slightly interested now.

Raised Beds

In previous years we've either grown exclusively in the ground or in raised beds. Never both. Until this year. We have three large beds that measure 4 x 16, and one small bed that measures 4 x 4, plus a very large garden in the ground. Now my sweet husband has built me raised boxes on three sides of the chicken run. We've also planted blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, and grapes. I love knowing exactly where our food is coming from!

Watermelon Picnic

The days have been so hot and humid. Who couldn't use a little refreshment? I've been reading that chickens really enjoy watermelon, and I thought I'd give them a treat. They quizzically looked at it for a few minutes, and then they got down to the business of picking out the seeds. I guess during that task they decided that the actual fruit tasted pretty good, and devoured the entire serving.



I went to the Farmer's Market as is my usual Tuesday morning routine, and chatted with the regular vendors. I gave several older gentlemen the recipe for Cabbage, Bacon, and Noodles. They seemed very anxious to get home and try it.

My sweet husband got the chain link fence installed for the chickens over the weekend. Now we're debating as whether to bury fence under it (to prevent animals from digging in), or to put electric on the outside. Suggestions?

Setting Posts

The sun kissed our skin as we worked outside on the chicken run. Him digging holes, and setting posts, me holding string, and keeping posts level as they were tamped into the ground. Togetherness is good no matter what we're doing.

The run will be 14 x 40, equalling approximately 47 square feet per chicken. The minimum recommendation is 10 square feet. They should be plenty happy!

The children were busy too. One made a casserole for tomorrow's lunch, one mowed grass, one swept the pool, and one made Pasta with Garlic Shrimp and Broccoli (from the garden!) and served it on the deck for supper.

Farmer's Market

I've visited the farmer's market no less than three times this past week. It's early in the season, and the offerings are slim, but I had a look around early in the week. After I left empty-handed, I kicked myself for not buying a few things that I had seen.

Two days later, back I went. This time I bought a small sampling from one vendor. Cutting celery,and Swiss chard to be planted. I had seen her selling kale earlier in the week, and inquired about it. She assured me that she would bring it on Saturday.

Saturday morning rolled around, and I once again entered the parking lot where the vendors set up. (I love that our small town has a farmer's market several times a week!) The lot was a bit busier than it had been earlier in the week. The first thing Abigail and I looked at were plants. I had yet to buy tomatoes and peppers, and I hit the jackpot this day. I loved that the vendor was eager to help me. She pulled out a catalog to show me photos and let me read descriptions of the plants before I made my decisions.

I bought two red Brandywines, a Paul Robeson, White Queen, German Queen, Pineapple, an Early Girl, Aunt Ginny Purple, a Beefsteak, and 6 Romas. I also bought orange, yellow, and green pepper plants.

Moving along to the other vendors, I bought two huge bags full of mustard greens and had a lively conversation with the gentleman selling them. I'd never cooked them before, and was asking for tips. He was quite amusing.

I bought two quarts of strawberries from an elderly gentleman whom I had seen sitting there on all three trips. They were pricier than the berries I bought from my friends, but I wanted to support this man, too. That's the thing about living in a small town, isn't it?

I talked with an older woman peddling homemade jams and jellies, but didn't buy any. I hated to disappoint her, but I had my own fresh jam still sitting in jars on the counter. As I turned from the jam lady, I noticed a gentleman with a cooler in the back of his truck. My curiosity was piqued, and I walked over. He was selling lamb. We talked at length, and he described his farm to me. Although I've never liked lamb, I bought chops for our evening meal. I knew my husband would be ecstatic. Truthfully, as much as I dislike lamb, I was looking forward to the meal of local meat.

Finally, I made it back to the gal selling kale. She remembered to bring it for me, and I snatched it up along with two cherry tomato plants, and a bag of beautiful cut salad.

The rain moved in during the afternoon, and we worked in it anyway. We built a raised bed lasagna garden and planted as much as we could, determining that we needed another one. The children pitched in making supper, one making the potatoes, one braising the mustard greens, and one grilling the lamb chops. Turns out the girls are like me and didn't care much for the lamb, while the guys followed in their dad's footsteps and were thrilled with it.