New Arrivals: Cornish Chicks

(Baby chicks up close)

This year, we bought the regular Cornish breed of meat bird instead of the Jumbo Cornish, which grow so quickly that they weigh an average of 7 - 8 pounds at processing.   These should average around 7 lbs., tops.

They arrived by mail - and no doa's this time:)

All happy under their hot lamps, though I'm a bit worried about the possums we've seen killed in the road.  Always, some new threat to worry about!

Lamb, Two Ways (or what I brought to the party)

New Arrivals: Piglets

These weaned piglets have been here for two weeks, but still aren't used to having people around.  As soon as you make any noise or sudden movement, they snort and run to the far corners of their long pen.   Which is fine, except that when they run, they fling all that poopy sawdust behind them.

Not a big fan of getting hit with the poo.

Monday Menu: Lamb Tagine

Lamb shoulder steaks (and a veal shank) cooked slow with winter vegetables; all ingredients came from the Burlington Farmer's market.

The first layer in the bottom of the tagine is white onion.

 The second, cabbage.

Fresh oyster mushrooms.

An entire head of garlic, sliced.

A couple of carrots, sliced, and some hot peppers from the freezer.

There's about two pounds of meat in all - plus a sprinkle of salt and pepper -  I can always add fish sauce later to adjust the seasoning.

 Cover on, into a 250f oven for six hours.

No need to add liquid when using a tagine, it makes its own broth.

The veal disappeared right away, and poor Dan choked after eating a hot pepper (I forgot to warn him about them, but he's always looking for bay leaves to discard, so I figured he would spot them).

Sorry, Peeps!

I meant to make cupcakes with Peep decorations for Easter, but time has not been on my side.  Now they are shedding all over the counter.   Will I get it done in time?

Update: No, they are still sitting there.

Weekend Cook: Crepeaus (boiled maple dumplings)

This is a crepeau; Dan thinks the name comes from the local patois for "toad", referring to the shape.  It is a traditional Quebecois springtime dessert/breakfast/sugarhouse item.

He asked me to make them for him, and it took me three days of figuring out how to do it without contaminating the house with wheat flour.  Then I remembered this:

All set to go, even levened already.  All that's remaining is a Hail Mary, since I only had enough mix to make one test batch of dumplings.

One cup of mix and 2 TB of cold butter in the processor.  Pulse, pulse.

Butter incorporated and ready for the wet ingredients.

1/2 cup of half and half, whisked together with one large egg from the farm - note how orange the yolk is!

Mix together, and let set at least 5 minutes for the flour to absorb the liquid and for the baking powder in the mix to activate.

I used a one-tablespoon scoop to form the dumplings.  Dipping it in water helps to keep each dumpling from from sticking to the metal. 

As you can see, air pockets have formed in the batter.

Yes, yes, "the best stuff on earth" - backyard maple syrup made in micro-batches.  Two cups of syrup and one cup of water are brought to a boil on the stove.

I used a 2-quart sauce-pot, but the dumplings were crowded, next time I'll use a low pan, and perhaps more syrup so they don't meld into one another.

Into the boiling syrup, drop the scoops of raw floating dumplings (all of them).  Cover the pot and turn the heat to a low simmer.

About 15 minutes later, the dumplings are cooked through and the liquid thickened like some sort of really rustic custard.  That's the best I can describe it. Test one to see if they are fluffy on the inside.

No finesse, just good eats.

It's too sweet for me.  I had to cut it with whipped cream.  The dark syrup had a cinnamon(y) flavor that went well with the dumpling.

Dan said that they were close to the original, but he recalls the dumplings should be more rubbery and simmered like a poached egg, not "scone(y)".   He also put in a request for scrambled eggs poached in syrup, if I was going to keep working on the recipe because "that's what we had, growing up".

Burlington Farmers' Market: The Space Assignment Meeting

Once a year, the market holds a meeting to list open vending spaces left by exiting members, sabbatical members, and vendors who failed to send in their annual paperwork.  Those spaces are "put on the block" for other vendors attending the meeting to purchase, expanding real estate or moving their position in the park. (This all happens in order of seniority spent vending at the market.)

This was the quickest meeting ever, so afterward the steering committee (I'm secretary) met to consider the applications for new members.  Next season at market?   Confirmation pending,  we can look forward to hot and barbecue sauces, prepared Jamaican food, and a gluten-free baker (yay) listing French macarons among their products.  It's gonna be a great year.

Blog changes in progress...patience, please:)

Life on the farm 032910: Leave on a high note

This past weekend, after our monthly meat delivery to Burlington, we went to Leunig’s Bistro for lunch.

Leunig’s can be hit or miss, not because of the food or the service (except that time we roll our eyes about), but where you get seated.  Every patron wants a table window-side; we are no exception.

My husband Dan and I wound up center aisle at the back of the resto, where patron’s elbows are a foot away from eachother - no matter - we high-fived our lucky-duckiness about having been seated right away.

I’m a fan of Leunig’s gluten-free menu, and willing to put up with minor inconvenience to be friggin-happy faced, reeking of roasted garlic and dribbling onglet au jus.

They were slammed. We adjusted our expectations and prepared to enjoy fancy eating off-farm no matter how long it took.

Despite our optimism, other patrons did not allow us to completely immerse ourselves in the experience. 

Unappreciative Thinny.    Emo Girl and Doornock Daddy were having a compulsory custody weekend.  She sulked and texted head-down, briefly poking at her salad - delivered on time – I might add, at a better table than we had garnered.  Neither spoke.  They could have been equally disinterested in a joyless corner.

Patois Ah-Chooer!  A Quebecois group of four sat to our left. Suddenly, the man seated closest to Dan let out a ferocious sneeze, considerately away from his friends, but angled at me. I absorbed and inhaled strains of virus that will, at the very least, cost me a week’s income in downtime. 

(I had no faith that after-the-fact handwashing, or the Purell in my purse were going to do me any good with this one.) 

Turds In The Punchbowl.   Mr. Nasty Experience and his GF sat down on my right. He never got over the fact that they were placed in two-star seats.

The runners brought the prickly pair’s order to the wrong cover (ours), but reversed gears before it hit the tablecloth. He complained the entire meal about that fact, didn’t touch his food, and expected $$ to be taken off the bill.

To recap: they arrived after us, ordered after us, and received their meals before us. 

Were we pissed?  Hell, No! 

“Waiter!”  “Another potato-vodka blue-cheese-stuffed-olive martini, please!”

Oh, Baby!  Servers quickly turned Mr. Nasty’s 2-top into a 4 and dragged a high chair over. 

Granted, Martini #2 was a rousing success, but I have one cardinal rule: never be seated next to an infant.  That’s one thing that can’t be resolved by even the finest, designer medication – if I even had a scrip, that is.

We exited just as the little pooper was slid into place, whilst toys and Cheerios were spread out before it with lightning speed.

There was every chance that the party would have food in front of them before Junior popped a meltdown, but that’s one inevitability that I was not waiting around to witness. 

We chugged our drinks and left on a high note.