Sunday afternoon.
The house is clean. Amazing how much fur two small animals can shed. The dryer is humming away with the last of the weekly laundry. I will get to the folding later. Don and the dog are napping, Don having just gotten back from a book fair in NYC. The cat snores quietly (?) on the dog bed next to me. Unfortunately the new Maytag refrigerator seems to be on the fritz. Repairman must be called tomorrow, so glad we bought the extended warranty.
But it's raining. We have needed the rain badly. This winter was a light one in terms of both snow and cold temperatures. Wouldn't you know it, my first whole winter as a Mainer is a mild one. I suppose it was easier on our heat bills but I really love snow. There was almost no mud season, and that usually serves to germinate all the earths vegetation. The dry spell has continued into Spring and it has made the state a tinderbox. There were a couple of fires further North last week that were sad. Locally we were hoping to burn some of the leftover scrap wood from our construction projects, but the fire warden has said emphatically No. There have been days in the past month where it was cloudy and threatening, but no actual rainfall materialized. It was a horrible tease. Don is trying to fill in patches in the lawn and had thrown out grass seed. But it has been too dry for it to germinate. Same for the few annual flower seeds I have tried to start. We have decided to rely on our local nursery for most of our vegetable and flower seedling transplants this year, at least the ones that cannot be strated directly in the ground. I would love to be starting it all from seed but we just don't have the infrastructure set up yet. I spent two hours digging boulders and their smaller cousins out of the plot that will become the vegetable beds yesterday. So glad that we are going to use raised beds. Will not have to do this backbreaking work again.
It's raining. I am inordinately happy about the precipitation. I wouldn't mind if it rained a little harder, but it can make up for that by raining longer. Weathermen are saying rain through Tuesday. I am hoping for once they are right. I can knit quietly in my chair, with the cat snoring, while my gardens are being watered. The life that is Spring, which has begun to stir, will blossum fully after this rain. I can feel it. It excites me. The real season of growing is upon us and I think I am finally ready for it.
But for right now I will knit and listen to the rain.
Is that thunder? No, it's just the cat.
A bientot,
Samantha
We did buy a farm. Yes, we are not currently living on it as a farm. However the property's provenance includes at least two stints as a commercial farm. Once there were chickens and another time it was cattle. I am glad that neither of these were crops because then we might have to worry about nasty petrochemical fertilizers, or worse, in our soil. We have the barns that support the history. The furthest barn still has paddocks and even an old salt lick. The middle barn shows signs of damage to the wood, just at chicken height. We have pastures. Well, maybe a pasture and a field. The field is currently hay, but unmanaged hay. We have been told that the previous owners had a donkey(?) or two, maybe even a horse somewhere on the property. The pasture is better suited to animals than crops, as it is full of ledge and hilly. You can just see a flock of sheep happily grazing away. It might even be something out of Wuthering Heights if we had a touch more fog.
The house had not been lived in for almost a year when we bought it. I get the feeling that most of the outdoor animals had been moved off a while ago. There are no telltale signs of livestock, no manure piles anywhere, although there are still a couple of bales of hay in the loft of the last barn. Dogs and cats, now that's a whole different story. From the reek of the carpeting we took out of the den there were definately domestic animals living in the house, up to the day they moved out. We were lucky that the renovations we did did not need to include structural issues like wiring, plunbing or heat as they had all been updated sometime in the past 10-15 years. This leaves us the pleasant task of upgrading the kitchen and baths to our NYC sensibilties, and the adventure of trying to reclaim the farming heritage of the property.
If you have been reading this for any period of time, you know that I am basically a city girl. Until a year and a half ago I had my cell phone on my person at all times and I actually paid attention to what was going on in pop culture. Now that we have moved to the country I am thinking agriculture. I have left my city ways behind me and am plunging into life on the land heart and soul. I'm not sure how much I like people, but animals? and plants? Those I can get behind.
This property cries out for animals. We did start digging up the vegetable garden plot this weekend with our neighbors rototiller. Yikes, that is a lot of work. We are digging through at least a decades worth of grass and weeds. We have been informed that the location we have chosen was the garden plot for various earlier owners. It is an obvious choice for anyone who has ever gardened, organically speaking it is THE place for a kitchen garden. As we dig we can see the chocolate cake quality of the soil and I am smiling at the potential for this location. We are going to build raised beds and will have to purchase some compost from the local seaweed based compost purveyor. But the spot gets many, many hours of full sun and is protected from the field (and thereby hopefully from the woodchucks) by a fence. I have no doubt we will have to share parts of our garden with the locals but am hoping it will be kept to a minimum by the abundant resources we offer in the way of other tasty plants.
But what about sheep? If you have read consistently you also know that I am a knitter. I am a modern day knitting anomaly in that I love to knit but do not blog about it. I am thrilled that so many others do because I love to read about it. But somehow it is not my muse when it comes too writing. That said, knitters like wool. Wool comes from sheep. Sheep are raised on property much like ours. Are you following me here? I have not yet succumbed to the spinning craze. In my heart of hearts I fear it is just to repetitive for me. But I am reserving judgement. A friend has a spinning wheel she does not use and has mumbled something about giving to me. How interesting would it be to raise sheep, have them sheared (saw this done this weekend at a local fair and believe firmly in leaving it to the experts), then clean, perhaps dye, card and spin my own wool? Am I biting off a big mouthful? Am I an obsessive personality type? What do you think?
I don't know, but just thought I would share the thoughts going round in my head. Have bought various books on raising sheep, and we are entering the sheep and wool festival season so I will be doing much hands on research. Friends of my Father raised sheep for many years, for meat not wool, but nonetheless they have much information about the realitites of sheperding. We are hoping to pick their collective brain about the process. Will have more to report in the near future.
Veering a bit off the pastry path, but not far...
A bientot,
Samantha
Many many years ago when I was newly out of college (I think) my Father gave me a Cuisinart for christmas. This was in their early period when there was basically one model. Upon receiving said instrument you were warned profusely about the sharpness of the blade and how the tool could do serious damage if you managed to get your hand near any moving parts. I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified. I was proud to have one of these newfangled toys. I was not working in a kitchen at this point, although I was waiting tables, so in restaurants a lot. I was dancing then and so food was not something I thought about a great deal, except as fuel. But I did like this toy. Somehow thought by having one I was more serious about food, regardless of whether I deemed that important or not. Hard to really explain.
At the same time this piece of equipment scared the shit out of me. I mean I could cut off all of my fingers with one flick of the switch if I wasn't paying attention. Or so the makers of the food processor wanted me to believe. I was extremely careful when installing the blade, extracting it and especially when cleaning it. I would dry the item immediately and return it to the work bowl so as not to have it out and exposed where I could accidently brush against it and bleed to death. I am sure I was being a little overcautious. I had never seen anyone hurt themselves on one, never even read a story in a newspaper or seen a show on tv about a person who had lost three fingers to their new kitchen toy. In fact if I think back I am sure I was much more scared of a mandolin which I had seen in kitchens, but we are not talking rational here. I was young and impressionable, the warnings from the Cuisinart people sounded serious. I also found the motor on the thing impressive. It had much more horsepower than anything I had seen in a home environment. And let's face it I have a vivid imagination, I could imagine losing a fingertip to it.
Ironic it is, of course, that 20 years later, when just about to enroll in cooking school, I slice off the tip of a finger with a very dull knife my Mother had given me at about the same time as the cuisinart had arrived. And I have never hurt myself with the food processor. hmmm
Over the years I have had intermittent uses for the thing. It's good for hummus, pesto, pureeing soups (although mine is not large enough to puree most soup recipes all at once which has led to some messy adventures with hot liquids) and sauces and even briefly for making bread (with the plastic blade). But I cannot say it is one of my essential go-to kitchen tools. There have been long stretches of time when the thing has not even been plugged in. It's heavy and cumbersome. Cleaning it is a bitch if you do not have a dishwasher. So often I have looked for excuses not to use it. Which, by the way, has probably improved my knife skills. In the various moves I have made in the past 15 years I misplaced the attachment which allows you to use the slicing and grating discs. I did however manage to save those same discs so some day, if I found a replacement part, I could use them again. Because really that is a good task accomplished with the processor, grating or slicing large amounts of things: carrots; onions; cucumbers; cabbage etc.
Over the years I must have used the thing enough so that last year I went to use the machine and found the blade dull. I was actually cutting butter into flour to make the galette dough from Baking with Julia Child. I noticed that it took more pulses than I would have thought the ingredients called for. I have since taken to cutting my butter in with my fingertips. Find it more organic and satisfying, even if it does take me a few more minutes than the machine. But anyway I realized that my blade had been used enough to become dull. So then I had another reason not to use the damn thing.
We moved. The machine moved with us. Remember I said something about it's being heavy? It got unpacked and has a home in the new kitchen. Then one day at work we were talking about replacing parts for kitchen machinery and I lamented the state of the edge of my Cuisinart blade. My boss throws me a refrigerator magnet with a website for a replacement company. A week later I have a new blade and, get this, the post attachment that lets you use the slicing and grating discs. I feel like I've got a new toy.
The point of this long winded account is that I used my cuisinart to make carrot cupcakes this weekend. And why would that have anything to do with a Cuisinart? Well, grating the carrots, obviously. 6 carrots into 3 cups of grated in 30 seconds flat, without any unwanted organic matter from grated fingernails or knuckles included. But even more exciting, while searching for an appetizing carrot cake recipe, I found one in Baking Illustrated, the big baking book published by the Cook's Illustrated people (which I think I have mentioned I love...um, yeah). The recipe, like all others written by the little elves at CI, looks to make the most delicious cake with the most appropriate tools. Some brainiac at CI figured if you have to use the Cuisinart to grate the carrots (and I do realize this is not crucial, they can be grated on an old standard box grater, but work with me here) then why not use the machine for the whole batter so you aren't cleaning the thing (which I apparently am not the only one who hates doing) for one chore. The recipe writer rationalized this by explaining various issues with texture in carrot cakes, often due to the absence of butter and misuse of oil that can make it a less than pleasurable eating experience. I think he/she just wanted to be wild and use the Cuisinart to make a cake.
This recipe did, however, make sense to me. It calls for oil, eggs and sugar beat together, then carrots and seasoned and leavened flour folded in. Often cakes get a great deal of their texture from butter and sugar creamed together. If there was no butter why not try and make an emulsification of the oil, eggs and sugar. Oh yeah, emulsification is one of those things a Cuisinart does beautifully. They make lovely mayonnaise in the blink of an eye. So why not use the power of the food processor to emulsify the eggs, oil and sugar and then fold the flour and carrots into the mix in a seperate bowl. Well it worked like a dream. This is my new favorite carrot cake. It bakes up light and tasty, not greasy, not dense. I was fooled by the light color of the batter into thinking that it wasn't baking, but when I broke into a cupcake it was baked through. And light! A nice slathering of cream cheese frosting, which was enhanced, I thought, by the addition of a smidge (tablespoon) of sour cream as directed by the CI people, And off to the races.
Yummy.
Carrot cupcakes for my nieces on Easter. Not really a holiday I celebrate, but the Easter bunny told me to make the cupcakes, at least that's what I told them. The little one was too small for cupcakes really but the older one licked all the frosting off with a happy smile. Someday I'll get her to try the cake part too.
A bientot,
Samantha
So, what do you know but I am making pies most days at work. And what do you know, but I like it.
It is actually my favorite task at work. There is something soothing about rolling out the dough to just the right round shape to fill the pie tins. I find it the perfect job challenge, read: not so much. But then just enough that I have to pay attention, need to work the vectors with the rolling pin so as to make a circle, and not some strange oblong or vaguely square shape. Each time the dough starts in it's own unique lump, and each pass of the rolling pin has a different effect on that mass. Sometimes a few swift sweeps and the thing is an efficient orb shape. Other times I have to work that pin for all it's worth to get to a sphere of any consequence. As instructed by various teachers (and written in many cookbooks) you cannot make right angles with your rolling pin strokes, otherwise you will end up with a square. You must move the pin in quarter turns responding to the direction the dough takes you. Sometimes it is better to use short strokes from the center of the disc outwards. Other times a full sweep from edge to edge accomplishes more. Always though you must be observing and adjusting. It is a very sensitive assignment. With pie you are not just dealing in two dimensions. While you are trying to reach an approximation of true circle, you also have to allow for the depth of the pie tin. Therefore you have to add circumference to accomodate width and depth. Of course we are dealing with pie dough here so if you need to fold some of it over on itself to fit the tin you will not be ruining your outcome. This allows you more latitude than say fabric where you would need to add a pleat or a dart to accomodate the extra matter. Still it is a lovely challenge.
Any way you slice it I am enjoying making pie. Does this mean I have conquered the demon? I don't think I will tempt fate and go that far. I made twenty pies on Friday, four each of: apple; cherry; peach raspberry; blueberry and mixed berry (blue,rasp & black). I cannot say that I was responsible for the entire process as the flour and butter are weighed out and placed in the freezer by one of my co-workers. However from that point on it is all me. I mix the frozen flour/butter in the hobart until the butter is broken down to a workable level (not the legendary cornmeal stage, that would be too far, and not pea sized either, but a equitable combo of peas, lima beans, oatmeal and a smattering of very coarse cornmeal). This is a process that requires walking away from and then back to the mixer for a stretch while it does it's thing. When it has gotten to the desired consistency I move the blend to a smaller bowl where I then begin the moisturizing process. Water, ice cold water, must be added to the blend in small doses and fluffed to incorporate, until you have achieved the needed consistency. This is the delicate part because you do not want to overmix the flour and have it start making gluten, that makes for tough crust. But you need to get a small amount of water into a much larger amount of flour quickly. The best way to describe my method is that I keep fluffing the blend. You're almost throwing the flour around in the bowl so that it comes in contact with the water. Then you form what can now be called dough into 8 ounce balls which will then get rolled out (see above), fitted into pie tins and filled with fruit. The fruit has been thickened with sugar and some sort of jelling agent (don't know what it is, not sure I want to know) and moistened with lemon juice. A second crust is applied to cover the fruit, it's edges are crimped, the dough is slit in some decorative way, to let steam escape while baking, and into the oven they go. Times 20. Obviously this method is bunched by fours and therefore more efficient, yet it took me a couple of hours to make 20 pies.
In a somewhat related matter, Spring has sprung in Maine. I had meant to write about the sap buckets attached to our Maple trees but somehow kept forgetting. They are gone now, all the sap has been collected and the boiling must be drawing to a close. There is a farm in Alfred that grows apples and has a farm stand (store) and they sell local Maple syrup. They have a program whereby they gain permission to tap your trees and in exchange give you some (how much we don't know yet) syrup at the end of the season. I believe we should be receiving our ration soon. I loved having the buckets on the trees. It reminded me of my childhood when we would spend Winter into Spring weekends in Putney, Vermont, ostensibly to cross country ski. As a kid I was only so into skiing. But the house we rented was an apple pickers house in the summer so it was on the edge of an orchard. Any property that did not have apple trees had Maples. In March the buckets would appear and we would follow the lines down the mountain to the sugar shack. I love that smell of maple sap steam boiling down into syrup. The whole thing brings back pleasant childhood memories. So when those buckets appeared I smiled. Funny how things come back around at you. The saying has always been ironic to me, but not this time.
I bought a new computer, an iMac, two weeks ago. This is my first entry on the new machine. It has so many bells and whistles I could compose a symphony all on my own with this thing. Needless to say, I know how to operate maybe 1/100th of the things it is capable of. But I am hoping in the upcoming weeks I will learn how to use more of it's capacity. I have figured out how to get pix from my digital camera into the iMac. The next step is to figure out how to get them into the blog. As Spring bears down on us I am drawn to the garden. I may branch out my musings to include the growing of things to eat, and to look at/smell.
I am feeling a little overwhelmed by all of my pursuits: baking; gardening; knitting; working on the house; entertaining. I am such a Libra, I spread myself thin... Jack of all trades, master of none.
a bientot,
Samantha