Sunday, July 31, 2011

Flexibility and Fun

Update on the Squelon:  It is most likely a pumpkin of some sort. 

Learning to live simply is learning to let go, use what you have, and go with the flow.  My first thirty years were somewhat regimented with myself usually playing the commander.  Things had to be this way; we had to eat at this hour; homework had to be done before fun could be had.  I lived a life of very little flexibility.  I'm not sure why this is, but anyhoo...

Working a farm and raising a child has shown me that one has to be flexible.  The world will go on if you all have french toast for dinner.  In fact, the world will go on if said child doesn't complete homework or said stepmom doesn't do her grading because a ewe is lambing.  The world will even go on, if on a 90+ degree day, it is just too darn hot to be productive and so you go to Secret Caverns to cool off (where the temperature is always 51 degrees F). 

This is just what we did earlier in the month. The weeds in the pastures would be there when we got back, and the garden vegetables would wait patiently to be harvested until evening when the temperature would drop to the low 70s.  I don't usually complain about the summer heat, as the season is so fleeting and I know the cold, dreary months of winter are just around the corner, but I will admit, it was just a little too warm for comfort.

So, we got in the car and drove out to Secret Caverns.  Scoharie County, about 1/2 hour South of Albany, is known for its caves.  In fact, the cavern employees were saying that there are about 200 to 300 caves in the county.  The largest tourist attraction there is Howe's Caverns, but we didn't visit that one due to the fact that it is the largest tourist attraction in the county.

We had tried to visit Secret Caverns twice before with Bud.  The first time, several years ago,  it was for a Masonic Lodge function in the evening and there were thunderstorms, so the cave people thought it would probably be best not to do tours. 

The second time we went was on Halloween a couple years ago.  With all the costumed folks around, Bud started descending the 123 steps to the cavern floor and by step 5 did an abrupt one-eighty and exited in a flash. I guess we couldn't blame him for that one either.

So by this third trip Bud had matured a little more, but I think it was the prospect that it was cold in the cavern that really made him think that it wouldn't be so bad.


There's not a whole lot of pomp and circumstance surrounding the entrance to the cave.  The stalactites, stalagmites and flow are still numerous inside the cave.  And there is a beautiful 100 foot water fall inside the cave at the end of the accessible part of the cave.  I particularly enjoyed the tour as the guide interjected a lot of folk history into his talk.  It didn't really matter to me if it was the "truth" or not, because it is the oral history passed down that defines the culture of the area.  I would say, however, that you don't want to be a cow living in Scoharie County, as it seems to be the cows who inadvertently "discover" all of these caves by falling down holes.  Poor things.  I see a Far Side cartoon in the making. 

At one point during the tour, the guide turned off all the lights.  We have been conditioned to think that our eyes will adjust after a bit, but in reality our eyes only "adjust" because there are some photons of light that are making their way to our eyes.  Two hundred feet below the surface there simply is no light, so we could be there for days and our eyes would never "adjust".  I don't think Bud appreciated this fact, and clenched my hand super tightly when the lights were shut off.

After the tour, we opted not to browse through the artfully tacky and unairconditioned gift shop  (more on the consumerist nature of our culture later) and instead went down to Cobleskill to get an ice cream before heading home to do the chores that were still waiting for us, as expected.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

The Case of the Squelon

I was enjoying my Saturday morning earlier today when my darling husband calls me outside.  "Sweetie, you have to come see what is growing in the garden!"  I had images of some giant plant eating fungus springing up overnight as I had spent a great deal of time in the garden yesterday and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. But then again, sometimes my powers of observation leave much to be desired. 

Anyway, the photo below is what my darling husband had unearthed. 

Currently, it is about as large as the seedless watermelons one sees in the stores these days.  We have no idea what it is, except that is from the Family Cucuribitaceae, which means it could be a melon, a squash or a little bit of both (hence, squelon).

This rogue fruit was a volunteer in the asparagus patch (and has decidely taken over that bed, which is fine as the asparagus season is over) so we decided to leave it there and see what developed.  Obviously, we're not sure yet.

Squash and melon are in different genuses so they shouldn't easily cross pollinate, but it's probably not out of the realm of possibility.   It is important when planting your squash to keep in mind that there are only four species: C. pepo, C. maxima, C. mixta and C. moschata.  The reality of the situation is that all summer squash (zucchini and yellow squash), acorn squash and most pumpkins are C. pepo, and if you're like me, you plant several of these in your garden each year.  I also have planted both buttercup and hubbard squash right next to each other, both of which are C. maxima. Which may be why I have the rogue squelon growing right now. We also try to grow melons every couple of years, which may have contributed to this mix.  The seeds could also have come from any farmers-market melon that we bought and then mulched the seeds from. 

We'll simply have to track the squelon's progress over the next couple months to see what finally takes shape.   I would like to think it is at least edible, if not roasted, perhaps then in a soup. 

Happy gardening.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

The next Food Network show...

...should be Real Cooks on the Farm.  In it, contestants would have two hours to calmly prepare a healthy meal but everything, except for five ingredients of the contestant's choosing (seasonings, olive oil etc) , would have to be from the farm s/he was plopped down in and NOTHING would be prepared ahead of time (including the butter).  Now, on this farm, there would be a dairy cow, and plenty of poultry.  There would also be beef cattle, sheep and pigs, but I highly doubt you could process these larger animals in the amount of time given.  A huge vegetable garden would be available, and you would hope it would be high summer so that there were actually yummy vegetables in it (you can only do so much with greens and asparagus and the show isn't titled "Extreme Farm Cooking").  There would also be an orchard and berry brambles to find fruit in. If you were lucky to be in a farm in the south, you would have citrus available as well.

We don't have cable, so we don't regularly get to watch the Food Network, but we were staying at a place that did have television this past weekend.  And I confess, I am a little bit of a Food Network junkie.  So this new food show inspiration came to me the other evening when I was in a rush to create a good, substantially portioned meal for my family (sometimes I am accused of making "tapas" sized portions).  I had no time for advanced planning as we ended up being gone all day, but I did know I had a plethora of food available to me.  I'll be damned if I just caved and said "let's go order a pizza".  We have been traveling a lot the last few weeks and the "dining out" category of our budget was literally bursting at the seams. 

So, luckily we had some marinating venison in the fridge (a gift from a friend last fall which we had thawed earlier in the week).  I realize this would be cheating on the new show, but chicken would be an equally good protein and I am confident I could process one of those in about 20 minutes. Knowing the venison needs mere minutes over high heat to cook, I first headed to the garden to gather greens.  I have plenty of different lettuces, but to spice it up a bit, I added arugula and beet greens, some oregano, sage and rosemary.  I also pulled our first three carrots from the garden and picked a few pea pods. 

I had also noticed that the black caps (wild blackberries) were in abundance by our creek, so I went and gathered those (somewhat labor intensive as the berries are small, but so tasty).

I threw the lettuce, herbs, and arugula in the bowl after three washes in the salad spinner (to guarantee that no slugs remained), shelled the peas, chopped the carrots and then added the black caps.  We had bought some River Rat cheese up in Clayton, NY when we were visiting the Thousand Islands, so I added some chunks of that (I guess that would be one of my five ingredients off the farm).  I then added almond slivers (another off-farm ingredient).  For the dressing I used a raspberry vinegar and avocado oil (I know, strange combination, but really good).  I then cooked the venison over high heat (for about 4 minutes total) and put 8-9 pieces on top of the salad. 

There, done.  Probably 40 minutes from start to finish.  If I was doing chicken, it would take a little longer as the bird would have taken about 1 1/2 hours to roast--still within the two hour time limit though.  It's interesting to think about what wouldn't be possible to make in a two hour time slot: bread would be difficult as you wouldn't have time to process the grain into flour. And your main protein would be turkey, chicken, and eggs (or you could do the wild thing, and go for squirrel, possom, muskrat, frogs, I suppose).  It would certainly be entertaining to see what people came up with.

All jesting aside with the Food Network show, it is possible to put together a good meal from scratch, and despite the time pressure, it was actually enjoyable.  Meal time can be stressful and/or monotonous, two adjectives I'd like to eliminate from my vocabularly.  To simplify things, after five years together, my darling husband and I have finally decided to take my mother's fine strategy and prepare a weekly dinner menu.  We will then go one step further and decide who is cooking it each night.

As Julia Child would say, "Bon Appetit!"

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Montana Misadventures

We just returned from a week long visit to Montana where my brother and his lovely bride got married Missoula style (see photos below). 

Roasting the Pig.  The catering crew actually camped out overnight so they could baste this baby every hour

Love that the bride wore this beautiful sage green Etsy.com creation--handmade in New Zealand.  The groom is wearing jeans (as is the best man) and low cowboy boots


Appetizers and drinks were available before the ceremony

It was a fantastic trip and it was the first time Bud was able to experience the Big Sky of Montana.  We went hiking for a couple days in the Bitterroot Valley, staying in a US Forestry Service cabin, which I highly recommend for some simple living.  Below is a picture of the East Fork Guard Station which is on the East Fork of the Bitterroot River.

The cabin is about 15 miles up a mountain in Ravalli County, which means it's 15 miles from the nearest public phone, 30 miles from the nearest town center, 100 miles from Missoula, and about a day's drive from Billings.  I tell you this because of the misadventure which occurred while we were there.

Wednesday evening, I had to go out to our rental car to get a shirt for my darling husband from our "non-camping" suitcase.  Mission accomplished without drama or bear sightings, and the happy family went to bed.  The next morning, my darling husband asks "Where are the keys?"  "I put them on the table," I replied.  Except that they weren't there.  Or anywhere in the cabin.  No, they certainly couldn't be locked in the car!  Or could they?  Darling husband wasn't so darling (rightfully so) at the moment, and once I realized that our identification, money, and food was all in the car I began to panic a little bit.   It was also drizzling out.  With little choice, the three of us set off up the road to try to find a neighbor.  No luck.  After walking a mile, we turn around and walk the other way. 

At this point, I should remind you that we are in Ravalli county which, as my brother mentioned right before we departed Missoula, is the militia capital of Montana (and hence the country?).  A mile down the mountain we spot a small community of camps and there is a VFW sign at the road.  We walk up a ways and it is completely desolate although there are trucks in driveways.  Darling husband asks if we should knock at any of the doors, but it's difficult to even determine where the doors are.  We decide to turn back on the main road.  

A little bit further down the road, I spot an older man eating his breakfast by a huge picture window in his kitchen.  With very few options aside from darling husband walking 15 miles down the mountain, we knock on the door and explain the situation.  He lets us in, and directs me to the telephone (right next to the Playboy magazine).  I got on the phone with the rental car folks while darling husband chats it up with our new friend and Bud takes in all of the girlie calendars hanging around. ("That's disgusting!" he exclaimed later).  The rental car company was not extremely helpful as the spare key was in Billings and thus they wouldn't be able to get out there until the following day (and Lord knows how much it would have cost us). The car did have an outside combination key pad, but they wouldn't give that to me over the phone   But apparently, our new friend and darling husband had hatched a plan to break into the car with a very large screwdriver, a piece of cloth and a coat hanger.  MountainMan drives us back to our cabin and then they pry the door open with the screwdriver to let the coat hanger through.  After several failed attempts to hit the "unlock" button, Bud mentions that the back locks are shaped the old-fashioned way, so that a coat hanger formed into a hook could probably do the trick.   Low and behold, they unlock the car! The alarm is blaring and Bud climbs in to pop the trunk.  Keys aren't there.  A few expletives are on the tip of my tongue, when Bud suggests that we open the suitcase and there they are.  I inadvertently left them there when I grabbed the shirt the night before. 

We thank MountainMan and later in the day drop off a few beverages for him, to add to his very vast collection ("That's one thing we need plenty of up here in these mountains" he told us). 

And so, the misadventure ended hardly before it started thanks to a kind individual living outside of Sula, Montana.  And note to self: if you're going to lock the keys in the trunk, do it closer to civilization!