Silage done!

Dan stands on the silage bunker the day after it was covered - while we were busy at farmer's market.

We are waiting for a few nice days in a row to do another cut of hay.

Tarte House: Still Burning

See the foggy bit at the base of the tree in the center of the photo? That's the Tarte house, and it's still burning. The State Police investigator was there today, and we can't smoosh the fire out until we get the "okay".

The sad part is that we really wanted it to "go to a good home" and the person who was salvaging it was doing a really good job at taking it down.

Life on the farm 10/05/09: How The Day Went

This week at Burlington Farmer’s Market it was cool and wet, but not raining during the designated hours for commerce.

It was Homecoming Weekend for parents and alumni of the University of Vermont, which meant that tourists were packing the streets, restaurants, bars, and City Hall Park.

We ran out of cheese at 12:30 and from then on it was one disgruntled college-kids’ parent after another, bemoaning that we were “Green Mountain Blue Cheese” and had none available for them to sample.

Here is an inkling of how the day went after that:

A woman came into our booth, grabbed a ramekin of samples, shook it and declared to her companions, “Cheese samples? These are just crumbs!”

Another, “I’m not eating from that dish, it has a hair in it!” (The “hair” was sweater fuzz; I removed it immediately using the tip of a pen, without a fuss – but with every implication that each dish had had, at some point, a hair in it.)

“Are these cheeses famous in Vermont?”

I replied, “These cheeses are nationally famous, but the locals know all about them.”

When packing up to leave, one final couple blustered about us not having any blue cheese left for them to buy, stating that there had been plenty available earlier in the day.

I discovered a new “grazing-type” to categorize: the Hear No, See No, Grazer. This one asks what the cheeses are (and is told exactly that, whilst I point to signs next to each sample of cheese); they then proceed to eat each piece and repeat, “What cheese is this? What cheese is this?” Over and over again.

Then there was a young, pale woman just itching to pitch a fit over our farm selling veal out in public. She stood in front of our stand, at arms’ length.

“Is your veal confined?” she challenged.

“No” I said. I must have altered my body language because this is the point where Dan interceded.

He assured her that the calves had plenty of room; I started detailing what the three different styles of veal were and how each is kept, when she interrupted me.

“Are the calves left with the mothers.” This was a demand, not a question.

“No”, I said. “We are a dairy farm, the mothers are milked with the rest of the herd.”

At this point, she threw on a disgusted face, and looked about to have the above-mentioned conniption, but one of my regulars cut in front of her with an incredulous look on her face that anyone would be so rude and obvious about harassing me.

“Would you like to buy some veal?” I asked, with my very best Cheshire cat smile.

“I bought mine last week.” She replied, for anyone who cared to hear.

The girl dissolved into the crowd. At least she didn’t return with a protest sign, but there’s always next Saturday to look forward to.

Tarte House: Gone

If you haven't seen the channel 3 news, this is all that remained of the Tarte House this morning. It was right in the middle of being dismantled. There had been some vandalism last week, and of course, the bale slashing on the opposite side of the road.

Monday Menu: Shrimp and Salmon Casserole

It was my birthday, and I wanted salmon mousse stuffed shrimp. However, time was not on my side for elaborate preparations, so it all got cooked up casserole-style at the last minute.

First, I blackened some peppers.

I scraped off the skins, diced them, and added them to diced and sauteed shallots (4 large), and a large seeded and diced tomato. Then I added two egg whites, and about 1/2 cup of tortilla breadcrumbs. (I put this in the refrigerator for 1/2 an hour for everything to mellow, adjusted for salt and pepper, before I assembled the casserole.)

Two pounds of cleaned, raw shrimp make up the bottom layer, I cut up 16 ounces of boneless, skinless salmon in large dice and added it to the vegetable stuffing. Then I covered it all with about a cup of thick tomato-cream/garlicky bechamel (to keep it from drying out). I put it in a 375f oven for 60 minutes, until the casserole bubbled at the sides.

I made garlic toast from some gluten-free bread.

It was getting a bit dark in the house for photos, but you can see the peppers and tomatoes in the stuffing and the shrimp underneath. The egg whites made the stuffing light and fluffy - not heavy like the Ritz cracker-based stuffings that are usually served with seafood.

Loads of broth for sopping up. It was creamy tasting, garlicky, tomatoey, the shrimp was perfectly done, and the big surprise: the salmon stuffing was amazing. I had stopped buying salmon from the local market because it was so flavorless, but it was really highlighted by the fragrant vegetables in this dish.

Stuffed Pork Chops in Newspaper

I've had another recipe printed in the Burlington Free Press "Green Mountain" Sunday section. If you follow this blog, you've already seen a version of my apple stuffed chops, but here you can read the rest of the story.

Corn Harvest (Tarte Property)

We're on to the last corn field that will be chopped for silage, lots of trucks moving around bringing chopped corn (stalks and all) to the bunker under constant threat of rain. They are far away, but still quite loud.

From my backyard you can see the curved chopper and the big trucks moving from right to left, then one of the trucks delivering a load out back of the barns. Now, we wait for the grain corn to dry down enough for "picking", and for the soybeans to dry in their pods. A short slideshow of roasting soybeans last year is here.

Weekend Cook: St. Louis Pork Ribs

Mmmm. Ribs and slaw. I can eat ribs all year long, but this will probably be the last time we have slaw and fresh tomatoes for sides. When the weather turns damp and miserable, steamy hot sides are called for.

(Note the test piece.) I set the charcoal grill to 225f (it slunk down to 200f during the first hour). I dusted the ribs with a sugar-based rub and let it cook for 5 hours, then placed the ribs in foil with one cup of tomato sauce for 2 hours.

Done. The bones slide right out of the slab.

My standard slaw recipe is here. Just scroll to the bottom of the page.

Farmer's Market #21: Cold Nuf Fer Ya?

Yes indeedy. It was cold enough for us. The sunlight hitting our booth lasted for about 20 brief and wonderful minutes. Then it went away and didn't return.

There's still lots of specials to be had and loads of produce at Arethusa. I have one 1/2 pig head left.

Major problems manifested on our left during set up. The fires at the camp stove of Folk Foods would not light - no burritos or vegetarian bagel bites. No standing next to the planchet to keep warm for me.

The culprit: it was cold enough for the propane to freeze - this is frost on the regulator and the propane lines. It looked like I felt.

They had spare tanks, a spare regulator, and a spare stove; in spite of that, there was no gift from Prometheus. The tank is warming in the sunshine. It will soon be joined by the second tank. While Dan waits for breakfast, here's some snaps from the market...




It took over an hour before Jason got the heat on. Dan said his morning burrito was the tastiest one, ever.

The last market day is October 31st; it's going to get a lot colder. Pull your woolies on, and come see us on Saturday!

All kinds of "not right"

Feathers are all over the place in the pasture today. That would be normal if it was dry out, because molting birds take dirt baths in the sand and the loose feathers come out. But molting feathers are dull looking, faded. These are not, and they are also in the grass.














































This is how chicken prints look in the mud:











And these are not chicken prints:







Definitely not chicken footprints.


Something has been in the chicken pen, something with medium weight dog-sized pads and claws that don't retract.

It rained at about 9:30 this morning,
which meant that in order for dry chicken feathers to be located in the entrance to the coop, it had to have been killed between then and 1:30 pm, when I went out to pick eggs.

We've had two predators attack chickens during the day: foxes and fisher cats. Foxes tend to take bites out of the skin trying to take down a chicken and leave carcasses or parts behind.

This looks like a suffocation kill, no blood, no bird, but feathers everywhere. It is the second this week. Maybe a fisher, but more likely someone's dog.

I've asked Dan to set a live-catch trap near where I think the predator is getting through the fence. Hopefully, we can stop this before I have no laying hens left.

Of course, if it is the neighbors' dog, there is an awkward conversation looming in my future.