Farm chores

February 8th, 2010

Listen up, wanna-be chicken owners: RAISING CHICKENS IS HARD.

I am here to testify that running fresh water and feed down to the chicken coop, located a 250 yards from our house, in ankle deep snow is back breaking labor.

This morning, despite 20 degree temperatures, I was sweating my Carharrt overhauls off, trying to carry a feed bucket AND a water bucket AND a shovel down to the coop (and I’m 4 months pregnant).  And then I had to clean the chicken coop, a twice-weekly necessity since the birds can’t frolic and play in the yard like they usually do because of the snow so they hang out in their coop all day, shatting their brains out, and I’m sure my baby is going to get lysteria from me inhaling all those scat fumes, but I can’t have the chickens mucking around in that stinking filth all day. But I couldn’t scoop the scat into our compost bucket because it was already half full of frozen kitchen scraps. So I had to hoof the bucket deep into the woods and up a hill, to try to dump its frozen contents into our big compost bins, which turned out to be a laughable attempt at efficiency because there was no way this frozen block of kitchen scraps would dislodge from the bucket. (What was I thinking?) So I trudged with the bucket all the way back to the coop — now feeling very much like the dying kid in the last scenes of Into the Wild — and tried to scoop chicken poop into the unfilled half of the compost bucket. I then made 5 trips back and forth to the house to dump the poop on various garden beds that needed it. Except those were already covered in 6 inches of snow, so really…..what was the point of this ridiculous exercise? What was I thinking?

And then I realized something:  This type of work is WHAT HUSBANDS ARE FOR.

Eggs-periment day 23: Peanut butter ice cream

February 7th, 2010

IMG_4844

I have a serious addiction to peanut butter and lately it’s been rearing its head in a crazy way. I’m chocking it up to the baby in my belly.

The problem with most commercial peanut butter ice creams is that they always taste like vanilla with some peanut butter globs thrown in. Which is fine, but it’s sort of like ordering a S’mores donut only to find the cake part of the donut is not S’mores at all, but a plain chocolate cake donut with S’mores flavored frosting. When what you really wanted was the cake itself to be made from S’mores bits. (And, yes, I speak from experience on that one. Clearly, I’ve never gotten over it.)

So I wanted to make an ice cream in which the peanut butter was evenly blended into the ice cream itself, so it tastes like you’re eating actual peanut butter ice cream, not vanilla with chunks of PB.

This recipe calls for cooking the egg yolks prior to mixing them into the ice cream. From a culinary perspective, I don’t think it’s necessary to cook eggs. I’m pretty sure the only reason recipes include this step is to prevent Salmonella.  Eggs are considered “safe” — bacteria dies — once heated to 160 degrees F.

But I don’t worry about salmonella. My chickens and their coop are very clean. It’s a closed flock — they’ve never come into contact with other chickens.  I collect eggs 2-3 times a day so the eggs don’t have a chance to sit around. I’m comfortable adding raw eggs to uncooked recipes. If you buy eggs from me, you can feel comfortable too.

Still, I’ve never made ice cream using cooked eggs so I wanted to give it a go to see if there’s any difference in taste. Conclusion: There’s not.

This ice cream was so well blended it was like eating peanut butter gelato — there were no massive, gooey PB chunks to contend with —with little flecks of semisweet chocolate thrown in at the very end. Enjoy.

The recipe, using cooked eggs:

• Place 6 egg yolks in a small bowl. Whisk together and set aside.

• In a medium saucepan, heat 3 cups heavy cream, 1 cup whole milk, 1 tablespoon vanilla extract and 1 cup light brown sugar over low heat until the sugar is dissolved.

• Remove the pan from the heat and stir 2 tablespoons of the warm cream mixture, stirring constantly into the beaten egg yolks. Slowly add the yolk mixture to the warm cream mixture, stirring constantly so the eggs don’t cook.

• Return the cream mixture to the stove and cook over low heat for about 5 minutes, stirring constantly (very important or the yolks might scramble). Remove from the heat. Pour the ice cream mixture into a large bowl and refrigerate until completely cool.

• Pour the chilled ice cream into an ice cream maker. Turn it on and add 1 cup smooth peanut butter in globby little fingerfuls. (If you add the PB in one mass it won’t blend properly; you end up with vanilla ice cream featuring PB chunks, which we’re trying to avoid.) Process for 25 minutes.

• Just before the machine is finished, add 1/2 cup grated semisweet chocolate.

• Transfer the ice cream to a freezer-safe container and freeze an additional 2 hours before serving.

National Canned Food Month!

February 5th, 2010

The weather outside may be frightful, but did you know February is National Canned Food month?

If you haven’t celebrated this momentous occasion already, make a point of toasting somebody this month with a Ball jar. Hopefully one filled with delicious summertime preserves.

IMG_4837

Eating this home canned garden salsa just now took me back to at least August.

Musings during the “snowpocalypse”

February 5th, 2010

I took this photo about several hours ago.

IMG_4832

That’s my car on the left getting buried in snow. It’s even deeper now.  Jake is off plowing snow for half the county and probably won’t be home until 3 a.m. this morning, so it’s just me, my wits, the dogs,  30 chickens and three wheelbarrows of firewood lined up in the basement to keep me and the baby bump warm. I don’t dare drive, which means I’ll probably be house-bound for the next couple of days. But that’s okay. Because I’m determined to tackle two big indoor projects I’ve been putting off:

• Paint the master bedroom

• Make homemade peanut butter ice-cream

Those two things sound at odds, but I lump them together because the peanut butter ice cream calls for cooking the mixture first, eggs and all, then whipping it to freeze, which sounds like a chore right up there with painting. But I’m willing to put my usual resistance aside because I’ve never had superior peanut butter ice cream and, being somewhat PB obsessed, I’m eager to find out if a homemade version is the way to go.

As for the painting, I spent months and months trying to select the perfect shade for our bedroom — one that was warm, pretty and pleasing, but not so pretty as to make Jake feel metrosexual. We ended up selecting Light Blue from Farrow & Ball. I like Farrow & Ball not only for their gorgeous palette but because their paint collection consists of only 100 colors or so. For someone as indecisive about paint as me, I appreciate having less to choose from.

I’ll post before and after pics soon.

Pregnant neurosis of the week: What to Expect When You’re Expecting

February 4th, 2010

9780761121329

It’s not what’s inside the book that freaks me out. It’s this weird pregnant lady on the cover.

Every time I look at her—in her Lane Bryant twinset, cranberry leisure slacks and sensible earth shoes—I get depressed.   She even looks depressed, sitting there in her rocking chair with this resigned, vaguely-defeated look on her face, like, “That’s it. It’s over. I should have never married that good-for-nothing bastard.”

What to Expect When You’re Expecting has sold 10 zillion copies and this is their representation of motherhood? I don’t expect a pregnant Demi Moore on the cover of Vanity Fair, or anything, but at least give me a mom with a decent haircut and—oh, I don’t know— a happy expression?

It’s no wonder so many wonder pregnant women get constipated, having to look at a book jacket like this.

UPDATE: Okay, so I found out somebody lent me the old edition of this book. Apparently, the new edition — which features the kind of high-energy, hip mom you see in Swiffer commercials, only with a bump — published in 2008. While my dowdy version was on the shelves as late as 2002!   2002 is still pretty late in the game to be rocking the cranberry leisure slacks and earth shoes, don’t you think?

Heinrich is feeling better

February 3rd, 2010

Our injured (and very sinister) rooster Heinrich seems to be feeling much better. His injured leg is healing; he’s in much better spirits. He was cock-a-doodle-dooing like a drunken sailor during Fleet Week this morning. So we decided to move him back down to the coop. (He was making such a racket, we had to boot him — neither of us could sleep.) And wouldn’t you know it: The three other roosters gave him a terrific beat-down. That’s what happens when a chicken leaves his flock: They forget he existed so they fight him. The three other roosters ganged up on him and clawed him with their feet.

I wish I could say I feel bad. But I don’t. Heinrich has been attacking me for months! Karma: A bitch, isn’t it?

And now I welcome a gentler and more humble phase in our relations.

What rooster frostbite looks like

February 2nd, 2010

IMG_4816

See the black stripes in Adolf’s wattle (the tissue hanging from underneath his mouth)? That’s pretty much third degree frostbite. It means the tissue is dead and is very painful. It’s interesting how the black runs through the middle of his wattle, not the ends. One of his girlfriends looks on with concern.

IMG_4820

Plumpy’s comb is tinged with black.

THREE roosters with frostbite? REALLY?

February 1st, 2010

All four of our roosters are messed up. One is in the shop — literally, he’s in Jake’s shop nursing an injured leg — and the remaining three have frostbite on their combs and wattles.

This is very upsetting and deeply concerning.

I’m upset because I ignored my own intuition. I repeatedly ignored my inner voice telling me over and over again, the uninsulated Hen Hut isn’t warm enough for a winter as cold as this one. Instead, I kept listening to all the farmers around here who kept saying, “They’re birds. Birds don’t need special attention. They’re fine. They’ll be alright. They can withstand really cold temperatures.” And lo and behold, the birds are not alright.

See, this is what happens when you assume others know more than you.   This is what happens when you let others do your thinking for you.  You get roosters with FROSTBITE.

Why just the roosters, you ask? Because hens are smart enough to tuck their heads into each others wings for warmth, protecting their combs and wattles. Roosters do no such thing….probably because they think tucking into each other makes them gay! They suffer all night long, and now all three of the dumbies have combs tinged in black. BLACK. That means the tissue is dead. This is a very painful condition! Adolf kept shaking his head spastically all day, trying in his helpless chicken way to alleviate the pain that I’m sure is burning through the tissue hanging from his cheeks. And now we’re faced with the ghastly decision, do we amputate the infected parts? Or do we let them shrivel up and fall off on their own and HOPE that gangrene doesn’t set in?

In case you’re thinking about getting chickens, know that raising chickens is not, it turns out, all fun and games. (I’ll prove it with photos tomorrow.)

I actually feel kind of sick right now.

Can I be vindicated now, those who claim “There’s No Such Thing As Peanut Butter Smoothies for Breakfast?”

January 31st, 2010

I got into a very heated debate a year ago with my husband and a few friends over whether PEANUT BUTTER SMOOTHIES exist FOR BREAKFAST.

We were playing a game — Scattegories or Taboo, I think it was — and we all had to come up with a “breakfast food” that starts with a P. I confidently offered up peanut butter smoothies, thinking it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion and, OMG, it was like Jesus Christ facing down the Philistines cause they CRUCIFIED ME. All of ‘em. Even my husband. It was bloodsport. AND THEY WOULDN’T LET ME HAVE THE POINT.

I was raving!  A spewing lunatic! I couldn’t let it go. You’d think I’d claimed gold was spun from straw, or something.  I was dumbfounded by the insanity of their assertion “PB smoothies can’t exist for breakfast.” WHAT???  To this day, they still still taunt me about “the PB smoothie incident” and I’m convinced I really do live in crazy world.

Well, comeuppance happens now, friends. Cause lookey what I found in a cookbook this morning:

IMG_4786

What’s that it says? A peanut butter smoothie? Peanut butter IN a smoothie? The vibrations! Can you feel the earth move? Oh wait, lets look further down the page. It gets better.

IMG_4790

FOR BREAKFAST. That’s right, a PB smoothie for breakfast.

Point, me.

Spot the evil rooster

January 31st, 2010

Last night, it was so cold, I decided to move Heinrich, my injured rooster from hell, into Jake’s shop where it’s toasty and warm. I figured he needs his strength to heal his leg rather than trying to fight sub-freezing temperatures all night.  Because of his injury, he’s been unable to roost and cuddle with the rest of the flock for warmth. Instead, he lays on the cold, metal grate floor of the Hen Hut all by himself, which must be unbearably frigid.

Sure enough, when I picked him up to bring him in last night, he was so weak and lethargic he let me pick him up without so much as a dirty look. This is not the Heinrich I know. I knew I was doing the right thing.

Heinrich spent the night in the shop, and I think it did him some good. I woke up this morning to his vibrant cock-a-doodle-dooing right under my bed (the shop is in the basement) — a good sign — and when I went to fetch him to bring him back to the flock, he energetically hobbled away, wildly beating his wings, giving me his usual aggressive, dirty looks. That’s the Heinrich I know and love! Next he’ll be assaulting my calves, per usual. I hope. I think I’ll leave him down in the shop for a few more days, or until it warms up. Or until Jake catches him for me.

IMG_4809

Can you spot the rooster?

IMG_4808

IMG_4806

IMG_4804

Evil, right?


Rurally Screwed is proudly powered by WordPress
Entries (RSS) and Comments (RSS).