Farm Story 3 The Ahh of Warmth

     Our farm has just completed two weeks with the return of electricity.  Hurricane Sandy made the trip up the coast and then made an incredible sharp left turn into New Jersey. The storm was unique in its size not necessarily in its strength.

     It was strong enough though to knock out so many trees.  Unlike Little House in the Big Woods, we are in an area of Big Houses in the Big Woods.  So many homes tucked into wooded areas were previously safe hoping "the big storm" may never come, but it did. Trees came down like dominoes and their fingerlike branches grasped the power lines as they fell.  For the first time ever, the road was impassable in either direction and remained so in one of the directions for one and one half weeks.

     So most of New Jersey was in darkness as well as without cell phones, land lines, and easily available gas.  Many roads were impassable. Creature comforts? Gone and not to return for two weeks. Discomfort, mental and physical, entered with electrical and technological isolation woven together in the midst of a very populated usually connected area. Silence, darkness, isolation, and cold were all wrapped together.

Cozy warmth from a  wood stove

    Aunt Ethel had always spoken of the wonderful feeling of warmth when she and her husband Walt stepped through the doorway and  into their toasty warm home.  It was a home that was kept warm enough so as to not need that extra layer.  Who of the younger generation should fault this? If an unheated home is not part of one's memory then it's hard to "get it" when someone describes how wonderful it is to open a door to enveloping  heat.  Surely, if a power outage occurred only a relatively small amount of time would pass and all would be right again with the world.
     But then, Ethel grew up on the farm where walking through the farm door didn't automatically mean heat. That cozy warm fire could only happen as a result of some work.  Warmth in the farm house came from a wood burning stove in the kitchen and a caring parent that kept the home fires burning.  Someone had to keep the fire going.  When the children were small that job would be one among many that her mother completed in a day.  She would drag in the branches and chop the pieces for the family stove.  Eventually, this chore could fall to the brothers.  The stove in the front room warmed that room plus provided enough heat to go through a grate in the ceiling leading to the upstairs bedrooms. Everything was comfortable as long as the fire kept burning.
     This storm has brought a true understanding and gratitude for Ethel's  "ahh" of warmth.

Yes, you do like dates, or you will after trying this!
Maple-Date Bars 

1 3/4 cups finely chopped pitted dates (about 12 ounces)

3/4 cup water

1/3 cup maple syrup

1 teaspoon grated lemon rind

2/3 cup sugar

1/2 cup butter, softened

1 cup all-purpose flour (about 4 1/2 ounces)

1 cup regular oats

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

Cooking spray

Combine dates, water, and maple syrup in a heavy saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a boil; cook 12 minutes or until most liquid is absorbed, stirring frequently. (Mixture will look like jam.) Stir in rind; cool completely.
Preheat oven to 400°.
Beat sugar and butter at medium speed until smooth.  Combine flour, oats, baking soda, and salt. Stir flour mixture into sugar mixture (mixture will be crumbly). Press 2 cups flour mixture into bottom of a 13 x 9-inch baking pan coated with cooking spray. Spread date mixture over flour mixture. Sprinkle with remaining flour mixture. Bake at 400° for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Cool completely.

Tip: Wrap these moist bars individually, or place them in a cookie tin between layers of wax or parchment paper.

Adapted from Cooking Light Nov. 2005

Last Call for Summer

The beginning of the yellow burst.

     Farming, even on our small scale is all about waiting and hoping.  Waiting for the right temperature, or rain, or sun or growth or ripening; hoping that the tiny seeds planted grow when everything is right or close to right, or that some unknown factor doesn't come in a destroy it all. Clearly, don't count your chickens before they hatch is very apt for a farmer and the saying applies to other farm activities.

    As much as anything can be counted on, these flowers are a fairly safe bet. All summer long there is great anticipation for the blooming of these perennial sunflowers.  Mother Nature leaves these flowers for the very last to bloom in a very showy burst of yellow. It occurs in the very last week of summer just as the calendar marks the autumnal equinox and fall officially begins.

     Most of the stalks are easily 10 to 12 feet in height.  Flowering begins with a single sunflower at the top of the stalk and gradually many others open below it until the top 2 to 3 feet are a mass of blooms. Its beauty is measured in days and then they are gone.  Sadness? No, there are many things in nature that to humans seem like unintended consequences, but to Mother Nature is just part of the plan.  The wilting flowers quickly go to seed and become a haven for wrens and chickadees to feast upon the seeds.  What a welcome sight to see these tiny birds flutter in, out, and around these stalks.  Blooming flowers turn to Mother Nature's bird feeders - two pieces in the puzzle of life that just go together naturally.

This snack is easy and positively addicting.

Roosters’ Famous Fire Crackers

 One 15-oz box of saltines – Keebler’s Zesta

Hot red pepper flakes

10 oz Cracker Barrel extra-sharp cheddar, grated

Oven 475

Place a rack in the center of the oven.

1.Spray a jelly-roll pan (has sides)  10x 15 inches with cooking spray.  Place crackers in rows so that the touch each other.

2.Sprinkle with pepper flakes ( 6 to 8 a cracker is about right).  Top evenly with cheese.

3.Quickly place in oven on center rack and close the door.  Leave the heat on for NO MORE than 10 seconds, then turn oven off.

4.Leave in closed oven for at least 2 hours.  The cheese will melt and brown.

 5.Break apart and eat.  Can be stored in an airtight container for several weeks.

Adapted from BakeWise by Shirley O. Corriher  Her books are just fun to read.

Sadness X 2

Job Openings
  One brave rooster needed to protect, defend, and supervise flock.
  One good mouser required, no prior training necessary.
   Room and board provided.
   Human friendly a plus, but not required.

        Maggie's distress in the upper area of our farm brought the realization that something was very amiss among the chickens.  She bolted frantically through the partially opened gate on a quest.  Unfortunately, it was too late. Sadly a fox found a way through our fence and killed our brave rooster.

      The rooster with no name was bold and proudly watched over the flock. It was a job he inherited from the  last fox raid months ago.  He stepped right up and took it very seriously. If ever a chicken could be a curmudgeon, it was he.  Any human who even gave the hint of being menacing, based on his opinion, needed to be prepared for an attack with his spurs.  Hens that might need aid from the younger newer roosters were saved by No Name. And so it was that he died defending his flock, no match for a fox.

      Sadly,  Angel, who spent yesterday as close to humans as possible must have known the end was near.  She was "the one more cat that we didn't need," but she found a job for herself and a so she stayed and became loved. Angel's body was so slight of frame, but neither a mouse nor a  chipmunk could best her in a battle. Her legacy is found in the only two kittens that survived.  Little Man has become the garage kitty and would stay permanently snuggled in your arms if you let him.  His sister, Muffin, has found a home with our aunt and has really landed in a good place.

Yin Yang Moment(s)

    There are two paths through the field to the geese and chickens.  One is more roundabout with less high grass and the one usually taken.    The other more direct route follows the fence line, but the grass is high and usually wet with morning dew.

   What draws someone break from a habit?  Is there some unconscious pull that draws one to do the unusual?
   Usually the roundabout trip draws one's eyes to the sky, trees, flowers and the cats when they follow. It lends itself to a fairly dreamy trip that the mind can wander along. The fence line route is a more intense let's get the job done walk.  It is necessary to look down to avoid overgrown clumps of dewy wet grass and lest one steps in a big old pile of horse droppings.

    The hour was late and the inner clocks of the animals were ticking as they waited impatiently for room service. The fence line route was the choice.  Suddenly an ordinary trip to the chickens became both fearsome and fascinating - a huge snapping turtle.

Something wicked?

     The first thought was, "Something wicked this way comes." (Shakespeare. Macbeth)  The fears of this creature latching on to a finger or any body part and refusing to let go were forefront in thoughts.  Truly a case of opposing forces - fear and fascination.  Then came the hey wait a minute  realization that, after all, it is a turtle on land and will not spring up as a snake or other wild furry four footed animal might; it is a good time to get up close (within reason) and personal.

"All creatures great and small. . .
The Lord God made the all"
(Mrs) Cecil F. Alexander, 1848

     A snapping turtle is positively prehistoric looking.  It has a mean looking beak with a hiss to match and triangular points on the back of its shell.  And, it is fairly huge as wild turtles go.
 
     Now it is said that every pond has its snapping turtle, but in forty years not a one was seen here. The absence lent one to be complacent and think that yes, putting your fingers or toe in the pond would not lead to a crunch down on bone and skin because a snapping turtle's space had been invaded. Time to rethink that idea.
    Touch? Don't touch?  How about a hand over the top to show the size? Wiser thoughts prevailed. Just place the five gallon bucket alongside. The only interference was to carefully turn this determined creature, both great and small, around to head back to the streams in the woods and hopefully not find a hole in the fence that would lead to the pond.
    One can only hope.  Note to self - be cautious about what could be below the water's surface. Warn the geese to be careful with their toes!

A recipe to use those summer tomatoes before they are gone.  

                  Linguine with Tomatoes, Basil, and Brie

 5 large ripe tomatoes, cut into 1/2" pieces

 1 lb Brie, rind removed, torn into small irregular pieces

 1 cup fresh basil leaves, cut into thin strips

 3 cloves garlic, finely minced

 1 cup extra-virgin olive oil

    several pinches of crushed red pepper

 ½ tsp salt

 ½ tsp freshly ground black pepper

 1 ½ lbs linguine.

Step one needs to set at room temperature for 2 hours.

1. Combine the first 8 ingredients in a serving bowl large enough to hold

the cooked pasta and sauce. Stir gently to combine.  

2. Cook linguine in salted water until al dente. Drain. Add to

the tomato mixture. Toss gently. Serve immediately.

Adapted from Silver Palate Cookbook

 

Farm Story 2 - Hop, Skip, and a Jump

     September brings thoughts of school and school bus rides. For a first grader on our street, all it takes is a hop, skip, and a jump onto the bus and then off to school.

     Today our road is a busy county road and the hazards walking this road are such that a mom would not choose to walk it with a child and never allow one to walk it alone.  School buses must pick up young children at their driveway on the same side of the road as their house is located.  They don't have to cross the street to get on the bus.

     In 1925, Ethel was a six-year-old first grade student.  She and her brothers, James and Robert, would depart each day for a one room school on a school bus that picked them up at their house.  However, the trip home at the end of the day was, without explanation, different.  It was a reverse of the morning route with a slight catch.

     In the early days, our area was divided into villages.  Union Village was located at the intersection of Hillcrest Road and Mountain Avenue.  It was at the intersection of these two roads that six-year-old Ethel and her brothers, James and Robert would be let off the bus to take the long walk home.  No one was waiting in a nice cool car on hot days nor a warm car on cold days. Actually, there was no car.

     The final leg of the trip home was a one mile walk up a dirt road that gradually increased in steepness.  A mere 2 minutes by car today, but on foot - it was 24 minutes to be exact if one kept up a steady pace.  At four minutes the children would reach a brook and then continue up the steeper part of the hill that was wooded on both sides. It would take another 17 minutes until Emerson Lane was reached.  At this point there would be the summer cottages inhabited during the warm weather by a Jewish community of vacationers who wanted to escape the city heat.  The final minutes would lead to the driveway entrance and home.

     Were there any perils along the way on this dirt road?  One time the three children walked the road and were stopped by a talkative gentleman.  As the man struck up a conversation with them, Ethel was positioned behind her two brothers.  As good brothers do, they protectively hid their little sister. She fondly  remembers her brothers' effort to this day.   Fortunately, it was the local doctor who knew the children.

    In spite of the idea that children were much better behaved in days gone by, sometimes discipline was needed and it could be meted out to the whole group.  What happens when everyone in the school needs discipline and must stay after school?  All, that is, except for the first graders.  The older students stayed behind and the first graders were put on the bus as usual.  Ethel rode the bus home, was dropped off at the bus stop, and started the long walk up the road all alone.  Imagine the relief she must have felt when her farm driveway came into view.
     Upon finally reaching the house and safety, there was no one home!  Her mother had taken Robert to the dentist that day and had not yet returned.

The Safety of Home - View is from south of the farm.  

    There at the house, Ethel waited all by herself.  As Ethel tells the story she remembers that hearing her brother James's voice at Emerson Lane was "the best sound in the world."
     Most likely there was an enthusiastic first grader's hop, skip, and a jump in excitement and relief as well - no longer all alone.
(These entries will not be ordered chronologically, but by conversations about pictures and events as remembered.)

Family recipe

                          Fresh Carrots Au Gratin

2 cups fresh carrots, thinly sliced

1/4 cup onion, minced

1/2 cup water

1 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/4 cup butter or margarine

1/4 cup flour

1 1/2 cups milk

1/3 cup cheddar cheese, grated

1 Tbs parsley, chopped

1/2 cup Italian Bread crumbs

3 Tbs butter, melted

1. Simmer carrots and onions in water seasoned with salt and pepper until tender, drain.

2. Melt butter; stir in flour.  Add milk gradually, stirring constantly.

Cook until thickened, stirring occasionally.

3. Remove from heat.  Stir in cheese and parsley.  Add carrots; mix well.

4. Pour into greased 1-quart casserole.

5. Combine crumbs with melted butter; sprinkle over casserole.

6. Bake at 375 about 20 minutes.

My tip: Double sauce; add extra carrots and onions.

Just One Cat Step Away from . . .

Of course

"Anyone who had a heart would surely take me

In her arms and always love me why won’t you?

Anyone who had a heart would love me too" Burt Bacharach

                                                     

Angel

     Kittens.  Our farm has kittens because someone sent Angel (see February 2011 "Meet Angel") over the fence one dark and stormy night.  She didn't go away, wouldn't go away, and would just appear out of nowhere.  Angel is tiny boned and very frail and not all that special to look at.  Let's just say that she wins one over with her personality.  She wormed her way into the heart of this farm and found a job for herself - a job being the criterion for staying.  She became the garage kitty; yes she persisted at the door until she was let into the garage.  This was good for our farm because we apparently had mice that hid all the mouse poison pellets letting it appear that surely a whole colony had been dispatched.  But no, they just took poison and stored it elsewhere to live happily on in the garage.  That was until Angel came along.

     Angel was on the fast track to be spayed, but had a wheeze or congestion that would come and go and might endanger the success of the operation.  Medication would be tough as she would let someone pet her back, but never trusted humans enough to rest comfortably snuggled in arms. Since she spent nights in the garage it might have been possible to keep her away from other cats.  But sometimes she'd show up and sometimes not.  She had several litters of kittens (1 or 2 in each), but they never survived.  The spaying decision was on hold. However, along came two kittens that survived.  Muffin was cuddly and easily found a home, but  the other, "Wild Man," was extremely skittish.  He became cat number 5 and took over the garage duty.  He also decided people weren't so bad so he became Little Man.

     The discovery of  yet another kitten (that died) brought the thought to mind that had it lived, a new home would need to be found for yet another cat - not an easy task. Now, the hard choice about Angel was really not a choice.  The best chance for her is to be spayed and hope for the best. No more kittens.  This farm is not in need of a cat lady.

     The discovery of the last kitten also brought about the realization that if a home were not found, it would be cat 6.    Suddenly, it became apparent how easily one can end up with too many cats.

     Angel will be taken to the vet so this close call can't happen again.  Note to self - keep in mind just how close the one cat step away from becoming the local "cat lady" was.

Great dip

                             Onion-Bacon Dip 5*

1 large leek

6 bacon slices

1 large sweet onion, minced

1(8-oz.) package cream cheese, softened

1 cup sour cream

½ tsp salt

 1. Thinly slice leek, discard dark green end.

 2. Cook until crisp; remove and drain on paper towels, reserving 1 Tbsp.

drippings in skillet. Crumble bacon.

3. Sauté onion and leek in hot drippings 15 minutes or until tender and

golden.

4. Stir together onion mixture, bacon, cream cheese, sour cream, and salt.

Cover and chill 1 hour.

 Adapted, origin unknown.

The Deed Is Done

     Finally, the sheep made it to the top of the priority list. The little woolly bears have been relieved of their coats.  Shearing sheep is a project that could be hired out to someone, but that would take away the challenge of being self-sufficient.
     This job should have been done in April or May. What took so long?  Aside from the fact that many higher priority projects kept getting bumped to the top of the list, several obstacles had to be overcome physically and mentally.  First, the electric shears needed  new combs and blades after being dropped last year.  One would think that this would be as easy as match the name of the shears with a catalog description, but one would be wrong.  Finally, after a few tries, a company named Premier 1 was able to easily identify what was needed and they could be ordered from them.  Problem 1 solved.

     Next, get out the book and class notes and study the positions and shearing strokes needed to effectively shear these sheep.  For those who think a sheep is a sheep take a closer look.  Southdown Babydoll sheep are woolly from the tip of their nose, down the legs to the toes (hooves, but it doesn't rhyme).  Many larger sheep have clean faces and not much wool down far on the legs. Studying done, ready to take the test.

     Finally, keep a positive attitude when working with an electric tool and place the comb and blade on the shears by reading directions that were no larger than 1/16 inch. Locate the bevel on the comb and bring the blade back from the beval 1/16 to 1/32 of an inch no  more, no less. Then simply turn it over and tighten the screws. Find the two holes for lubricating oil and remember to oil every ten minutes or so during shearing.  Do it this year because clearly those words were missed last year.

     All that was needed were willing sheep and the right frame of mind to picture success.  "You'll like this, really you will."  - Well, no, not one did, but they gave up against pure determination to get them sheared. Only two hours each, and two days to get the sheep in shape.

     When all was said and done with the new haircuts, it can only be said that, well, the sheep looked and acted  sheepish.  In the human world their haircut would be equivalent to the old days when a mom would put a bowl over her son's head to evenly cut his hair. But the job is done - until next year.


An tasty and easy dish for all the zucchini ripening now.


Zucchini Pie
 3 cups grated zucchini                            /4 cup vegetable oil
1 small onion, chopped                            4 Tbsp grated Parmesan
1 cup all-purpose flour                            2 tsp chopped fresh basil
1 cup grated provolone cheese                 1 tsp baking powder
3 eggs, beaten                                      1 tsp salt
                                                          1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper oven 350
Combine all the ingredientsl, reserving 1 tablespoon of the Parmesan.
Spray a 10-round glass or metal pie dish with cooking spray.  Spoon in zucchini mixture. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes or until golden brown. Sprinkle with 1 T Parmesan. Cool 10 to 15 minutes before slicing.
Adapted from Real Simple