Maggie, Day Three

     Our animal farm story continues with the arrival of Maggie. Her picture was posted on the internet site for St. Hubert's.  Something about her look kept me going back.  It could have been the color, or the eyes, or the expression on her face, or the desire to find another Shiloh.
     Off to St. Hubert's to take a closer look at Maggie.  There she lay on her bed as I walked through the kennel area.  It reminded me of Shiloh 4 years ago, lying patiently while all the other dogs jumped and barked.  She did get up on my return trip down the aisle.  I asked to see her.
     In the outside enclosure she was moderately interested in me, but more interested in the smells of the cage.   Hooked pretty much at first sight, paperwork was processed, fee paid, and Maggie left St. Hubert's. Should I have cared more that the previous two matches did not work out? After listening carefully to the details of her history, I thought that I had the situation figured out, and it would be a successful match.

Is that a smile?

     She was wonderful in the car. She was wonderful in the house (cross this off, that was only the first three hours of the first night).  She didn't jump up on people and liked to be petted. She was wonderful until poor Gizmo kitty, who did not know to let sleeping dogs lie, decided to go close and sniff Maggie's nose while she was sleeping by me.   Too late to stop the interaction,  Maggie opened her eyes, saw the cat, growled and took off.  Now there is a reason for the expression scaredy cat.  That is Giz even on her best day.  She took off and couldn't be found for hours - the next day actually.  She wanted no part of this dog.  This home invasion by a new creature was not a Shiloh.
     Now what?  I couldn't fall back asleep and I knew I wasn't dozing because I was beginning to see the entire nightly rerun of an evening's worth of Fox programs.
     What was I going to do if Maggie considered cats a food group?  There were three more in the barn outside. The mixed breeds in this dog need to be outside and able to run.  This might be trouble.        
     Not having kids to keep me awake at night, now it was a dog.  The Carrie Underwood song kept playing over and over in my mind, "It started out hey, cutie, where'd you come from, then it turned into oh, no, what have I done?"  Sixty plus pounds of dog and still a puppy? What had I done?
      Luckily with the morning light and some sleep more rational thought prevailed. So, the facts as known -she likes to chew - anything, likes to run - everywhere, forget about trying to catch her on a tear around, likes to counter surf - note to self, keep food back from the edge, but she has the sweetest face and she still has a puppy brain. A puppy brain, cope with it, outsmart it, after all you are a human, the superior species higher up on the brain chain.

      Here she'll have her forever home, but she'll never know that if it weren't for Shiloh being such a great companion, she might have ended up in someone else's home.

You Are Who/What You Think You Are

Can you see Chicken Little?  A bit of confusion here, maybe?  Watching animal behavior can unlock some thoughts about human behavior.  Chicken Little is a temporary guest on our farm.  The four young chickens, slightly larger than he, would have no part of him sharing anything - not food and least of all, their space.  They pecked and chased him until he flew out of their reach.  But, he landed in the turkey pen with an empty stomach.  Promptly hopping into the dish of turkey grain he pecked at any turkey beak that wanted food.  They pretty much left the little squirt to have his way. 
     Climbing in with the turkeys to catch the little guy each night to put him safely away was added to the routine.  Each new day brought the pecking at him from the chickens and then back into the turkey pen he flew.  This went on for days until one day, when locking the turkeys up in the dark there was no Chicken Little to be found.  Could the turkeys have finally decided to push their weight around? Was it his demise?  But no -  the next morning he came hopping out the door with the turkeys.  Now at night he is usually the first in and  can be found right in there with the turkeys, roosting after dark. The moral of the story, according to Chicken Little, is that if you eat like a turkey with turkeys, act like a turkey, and roost like a turkey, well then, no argument, you are a turkey.

     So it is that Chicken Little found a place with the big guys.  And if only people would realize that sometimes those who are just a little bigger just try to boss others around.  Just get with the real big guys and there's no threat.  Those with big hearts, big minds, and/or big bodies just don't have to go after others to prove a point.

Tis the season for an easy great fall cider drink.

                         Mulled Apple Cider with Orange and Ginger 5*
8 cups unpasteurized apple cider

          A 3-inch cinnamon stick

10       whole cloves

 1        navel orange, peeled and        

          sliced crosswise

         A 2-inch piece of peeled fresh ginger,-- cut into 6 slices

      Combine the cider, cinnamon stick, cloves, orange and the ginger and simmer   for 20 minutes. Strain the mixture through a fine sieve into a heat-proof pitcher and serve warm.

Adapted from  Gourmet | October 1991

Saying Goodbye

Shiloh

     Part of having a farm full of animals is that the inevitable happens and there comes a time to say goodbye to a beloved pet.  Shiloh, a golden collie mix - my golden wolf - could not fight off a mysterious illness that could not be cured with antibiotics nor discovered by x-rays. Adopted from a shelter when he was 1 1/2 years old, it seemed as though he would be a pal for many years. As with the random unexpected happenings of life, this wasn't to be so. 

     Shiloh was a great farm dog and great around visitors and children, but brave enough to bark at strangers. He managed to fill a space in my heart that I really didn't know was available. He had me climbing over fences, running through the woods, crossing a stream, and down a highway ramp in a wild pursuit to stop him from chasing a fox or the sheer joy of following the scent of something.

     Clearly the love of a pet is not and cannot be the same as the love for a family member.  But, a pet creeps its way into your heart with habits and expressions that sometimes only the owner will detect. A special pet seems to rejoice in your joy and understand your sadness. It will take time to remember that it's not necessary to step around that spot where the dog usually lay, there's no dog on your heels that will escape when the door is open, there's no dog to herd the sheep, or to call when it's time to go inside. The loss is new so seeing the empty water dish sends a message that it needs to be filled, or thinking I should call him to join me for a quick errand in the car. And then, I remember.

     The first impulse is to take all the reminders of the dog and put them and the sad feelings away. But then, why not fight the urge? Choose to keep those reminders, and choose to remember the times that brought smiles, fun, and a soft face resting on your lap, brown eyes looking upward.

     To remember the good times is probably the best way to deal with a loss. Helen Keller said it best.


  "What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” 

Thank You, Chickens

If you are lucky enough to find free-range chicken eggs you can make the best yellow cake without food coloring. What a difference an egg makes!                                            Fluffy Yellow Layer Cake

2 ½ cups cake flour, plus extra for dusting pans

1 ¼ tsp baking powder

¼ tsp baking soda

¾ tsp salt

1 ¾ cups sugar; divided

10 Tbs unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly

1 cup buttermilk, room temperature

3 Tbs vegetable oil

2 tsp vanilla extract

6 large egg yolks plus 3 large egg whites, room temperature (I used 7 medium yolks, 4 medium whites)

           Foolproof Chocolate Frosting

20 Tbs unsalted butter, softened

1 cup  confectioners' sugar

¾ cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder

 pinch of table salt

 3/4 cup light corn syrup

 1 tsp vanilla extract

 8 oz milk chocolate, melted and cooled slightly

350 oven.

1. Grease  two 9-inch cake pans and line bottoms with parchment paper.

Grease paper rounds, dust pans with flour.

2. Whisk flour, baking power, baking soda, salt, and l 1/2 cups sugar

together.  Whisk together melted butter, buttermilk, oil, vanilla, and

yolks.

3. Beat egg whites at until foamy, about 30 seconds. With machine running,

gradually add remaining 1/4 cup sugar; continue to beat until stiff peaks

form, 30 to 60 seconds (whites should hold peak but mixture should appear

moist).  Transfer to bowl and set aside.

4. Add flour mixture to bowl with whisk attachment.  With mixer running at low speed, gradually pour in butter mixture and mix until almost incorporated (a few streaks of dry flour will remain), about 15 seconds.  Scrape whisk and sides of bowl.  Return mixer to medium-low speed and beat until smooth and fully combined, 10 to 15 seconds.

5. Stir 1/3 of whites into batter to lighten, then add remaining whites and gently fold into batter until no white streaks remain. Divide batter evenly between prepared pans. Lightly tap pans against counter 2 or 3 times to dislodge any large air bubbles.

6. Bake until cake layers begin to pull away from sides of pans and toothpick inserted into center comes out clean, 20 to 22 minutes.  Cool on wire rack for 10 minutes. With a small knife, loosen cakes from sides of pan, and then invert onto greased wire rack and peel off parchment. Invert cakes again and cool completely on rack, about 1 1/2 hours.

Chocolate Frosting

1. In food processor, process butter, sugar, cocoa, and salt until smooth,

about 30 seconds, scraping sides of bowl as needed.  

Add corn syrup and

vanilla and process until just combined, 5 to 10 seconds.  Scrape sides of

bowl, then add chocolate and pulse until smooth and creamy, 10 to 15

seconds.

Adapted from Cook's Illustrated - a great reliable magazine for recipes.

Seeking Resilience

Our farm seems to have so many opportunities to learn from nature. Just looking around at the results of  pelting rain from two storms, one being Irene, reveals the resilience of nature.

Pelted by falling rain

     These flowers grow just about anywhere.  A person probably wouldn't even notice them along the roadside. However, upon closer inspection, they have beauty in their simplicity. They reseed themselves, and it is just as likely to find them in a brand new spot as it is for the place they sprouted last year.  The plants spend all summer growing and blending in with other greenery.  And then, when other summer blooms are spent, they appear almost as though out of nowhere with their perky yellow petals.

     The heavy downpours had the flowers drooping and looking rather dejected.  Subconsciously, these flowers had brought a smile to my face and lightened my spirit on the way to the chickens and geese.  Their effect on me wasn't obvious until they were drooping from the rain.  My hope was that it wasn't the end of the season for these cheerful yellow flowers. 

     On the first bright day after the rains, the flowers had rejuvenated; their stems were uplifting the flowers skyward once more.  Nature's resilience won out.  

Resilience

     The name of my favorite wildflowers is unknown to me. But as a reminder to for the way life should be led, if I were to give them a name, it would be Resilience.

     This could be what my sister's pastor in OK meant when he posted these words, "Falling down is a part of life, getting back up is living."

September 11, 2011 - America is back up and living.

Attitude Adjustment

Nikki leaving

     Does this make sense?  Does headbutting really solve a problem?  Apparently so in the sheep world.  A perfectly normal routine sort of day, who would expect sheep to immediately get into their field and bang heads into each other. 
     Maybe it was some old unresolved feud from yesterday.  Or did one toss and turn all night keeping the other awake? Should sheep count sheep when tired? 
     Clearly, one sheep couldn't have cared less about the battle or the outcome - the it's not me so I'm not getting involved. 

Winkyn (r), Blinkyn(l), and Nod(center)

     The other was content to get in as close as possible, but not participate.  Ah, the referee or the agitator,  secretly egging on the battle, or moral support - maybe.  I'll never be sure.  Know any humans like this?
     Anyway, after a few minutes, whatever the problem was, it was resolved and the flock was at peace once again.  Humans should be so capable to solve a problem and then drop it and go on with life.

Summer comfort food for today.

Roasted Cherry Tomatoes with Angel Hair Pasta 5*

1 lb red cherry tomatoes, halved

1 lb yellow cherry tomatoes

½  lb small green or other colorful heirloom tomatoes, quartered

¼ cup olive oil

3 Tbs slivered garlic

1 Tbs balsamic vinegar

¾ tsp salt

½ tsp red pepper flakes

½ tsp ground black pepper

¼ cup chiffonade fresh basil leaves

2 Tbs chopped fresh parsley leaves

1 tsp minced fresh oregano leaves

1 lb angel hair pasta

2 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil

8 oz whole-milk ricotta salata, crumbled

½ cup toasted pine nuts (I used almonds)

½ cup grated Pecorino

Additional chopped fresh herbs, garnish

Hot French or Italian bread, accompaniment

Oven 350 degrees F.

1. In a large, glass baking dish, toss the tomatoes with the oil, garlic,

vinegar, salt, red pepper flakes, and pepper. Roast until the tomatoes are

tender, stirring occasionally, 40 to 45 minutes.

2. Remove from the oven and add the basil, parsley, and oregano. Stir well.

3. Cook the pasta until al dente, about 7 minutes. Drain and return to pot. Toss with the extra-virgin olive oil.

4. Add the tomatoes and pan juices and cook over low heat until hot, 1 to 2

minutes. Add the ricotta salata cheese and stir until mostly melted, about 1

minute. Remove from the heat and place in serving dish.

5. Toss with the pine nuts and Pecorino cheese. Garnish with herbs, as desired, and serve immediately.

 Adapted from Emeril Lagasse

At Last, Normal Noise

     Today is the first day of normal noise since Irene took away our power.  Every day since last Sunday was greeted with the steady drone of a generator - not that this is a complaint.  I was thankful for every little bit of power this past week even if a refrigerator, freezer, TV, and lights couldn't be on all at once.  At least we always had water - cold water, but good nervertheless.

     But normal noise on a farm, from the very obvious to the very subtle, is wonderful, comforting sound.

The very subtle noises for this time of year began - and always begin - around the last week in July.  Somewhere the cicadas (I think) strike up a chorus that can't be missed.  It suddenly is the new sound of morning that wasn't there the day before. To me, it is the sign of the beginning of the end of summer.  The sound totally surrounds you, and yet I've never seen the creatures that make themselves known with this sound. 

     The barn brings anticipatory noises from the turkeys as soon as they hear the key unlock their door.  The door crashing sound is brought forth by the sheep in their eagerness to get out.  They can't help but knock into each other since they don't seem to be able to get the idea that all of them can't fit through the doors at the same time.

     Even though I try to see how far I can get sneaking up on the geese, they always hear me before I get to their door.  Ditto with the chickens.  All of them get their food and fresh water. 

      My last normal sound comes from Beethovan.  As soon as I turn to leave he sneaks up and grabs at the leg of my pants.  I turn too look and as expected he has arched his neck in a perfect "S" to the ground, then towards the sky, making a victorious gooselike sound.  He successfully scared me away again, and I wouldn't want him to think anything differently.

      Although thankful for the generator and its noise, the farm is now back to normal noise, and it's great.
   Today's recipe - so simple, so good.

Sungold Tomatoes with Pasta 5*

 4 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil, divided

 8 oz Sungold or cherry tomatoes

 2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

 1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes

       Kosher salt

 6 oz capellini, spaghetti, or bucatini

 3/4 cup finely grated Pecorino or Parmesan

 8 medium fresh basil leaves, torn into pieces

 Toasted breadcrumbs (for garnish; optional)

1. Heat 3 tablespoons oil over medium heat. Add tomatoes, garlic, and red pepper flakes, season with salt, and cook, covered slightly and swirling pan often, until tomatoes blister and burst, 10-12 minutes. Press down on tomatoes to release their juices. Remove pan from heat and set aside.

2. Bring 3 quarts water to a boil. Season with salt; add pasta and cook, stirring occasionally, until about 2 minutes before tender. Drain pasta, reserving 1 cup pasta cooking water.

3. Transfer pasta to pan with tomatoes; set over high heat. Add 1/2 cup

pasta water. Cook, stirring and tossing often, until sauce thickens and

begins to coat the pasta, about 1 minute. Stir in remaining oil, cheese, and

half the basil and toss until sauce coats pasta and pasta is al dente. (Add

more pasta water if sauce seems dry.) Add remaining basil, season with salt,

and serve with breadcrumbs, if desired.

Adapted from Mario Batali