This is something I have not done since I was a small child growing up in the boonies of Montana. It was one of those things I looked forward to and thought was simply magical. Goose appeared to have the same reaction! How lovely!!
Small thrills.
I went over to Mme. Child's this evening and was thrilled to see several towering hollyhocks growing next to her driveway. Immediately I asked for some toothpicks and informed Mme. Child that I had something I had to show Goose. We went out and I made Dancing Faerie Angels. She was thrilled. I was thrilled.
This is something I have not done since I was a small child growing up in the boonies of Montana. It was one of those things I looked forward to and thought was simply magical. Goose appeared to have the same reaction! How lovely!!
This is something I have not done since I was a small child growing up in the boonies of Montana. It was one of those things I looked forward to and thought was simply magical. Goose appeared to have the same reaction! How lovely!!
Broccoli, Stock, and Vodka
This evening has been very productive. I always like to write after having bouts with great production involved. We picked up our first meat CSA today from Chestnut Farms. We've got to be there between five and six, and it is halfway to Riverland, so I figured I'd take the opportunity to make our pick-up days there on Thursdays rather than Saturdays. I just found that by the time I went to the Farmers Market, picked up our Fish CSA, came home tossed the fish in the fridge, went to Riverland and selected our share, did the u-pick, and came home, I barely had enough energy to get The Boy, me and the veggies in the house, much less process it in any timely kind of way. Granted, I have done a fair amount of strawberry freezing, but beyond that, I can hardly keep up with the greens and things from the farm. Now, if I pick up on Thursdays, even if I'm exhausted that night, I'll have Fridays to process as I've got the day off. And then the weekend to enjoy the fruits of my labor, rather than running to try to catch up with my tail.
So this evening: I got the meat for the first time. They had whole chickens and eggs for sale, and stock and marrow bones for the taking. I came away with our 10 lbs of various meats (6 chicken breasts, two steaks, two lbs of hamburger, breakfast sausage, and hot Italian sausage) along with three good size soup bones. At the veggie farm we got four fennel bulbs, three heads of broccoli, a fair amount of salad greens, a large bag of chard, several garlic scapes, a zuccini, and two pickling cukes (the latter two items were carefully selected by Mozart). As dinner time was nearing we did not do our U-pick, but just visited the strawberry fields and had a couple berries each (tomorrow, I think I'll go back and get our 8 quarts of strawberries, and - was it 3 or 5 quarts of peas). On arriving home, I turned Mozart over to TW and I started a beef stock, ran to the store (out of onions - very important), came home, finished setting the stock to simmer for the night, strained the strawberry vodka I started last week, and cut, blanched, and froze 6 heads of broccoli (three from last week that were left over), and collapsed onto the couch where I am now writing this and too exhausted to even get myself a tipple (though TW got to enjoy some while I was straining). The real fruits of my labor will be served tomorrow with whipped cream - and by that I mean some very vodka-saturated strawberries!
So this evening: I got the meat for the first time. They had whole chickens and eggs for sale, and stock and marrow bones for the taking. I came away with our 10 lbs of various meats (6 chicken breasts, two steaks, two lbs of hamburger, breakfast sausage, and hot Italian sausage) along with three good size soup bones. At the veggie farm we got four fennel bulbs, three heads of broccoli, a fair amount of salad greens, a large bag of chard, several garlic scapes, a zuccini, and two pickling cukes (the latter two items were carefully selected by Mozart). As dinner time was nearing we did not do our U-pick, but just visited the strawberry fields and had a couple berries each (tomorrow, I think I'll go back and get our 8 quarts of strawberries, and - was it 3 or 5 quarts of peas). On arriving home, I turned Mozart over to TW and I started a beef stock, ran to the store (out of onions - very important), came home, finished setting the stock to simmer for the night, strained the strawberry vodka I started last week, and cut, blanched, and froze 6 heads of broccoli (three from last week that were left over), and collapsed onto the couch where I am now writing this and too exhausted to even get myself a tipple (though TW got to enjoy some while I was straining). The real fruits of my labor will be served tomorrow with whipped cream - and by that I mean some very vodka-saturated strawberries!
 |
| 2C strawberries, 2C vodka (X2 as I wanted a full quart in the end) set to soak in the fridge for a week with the occasional shake, and now filtering to get every last speck of strawberry out. Will keep, if it lasts that long, for a year in the cupboard. |
A Case of the Crankies with a Touch of the Spots.
This morning, the first thing Mozart uttered was, "Mama, I itchy. I got the pox."
He did not come up with this on his own. Children very rarely come up with these things ALL on their own.
Yesterday we got the (false) report that one of the kids at his daycare had come down with the chicken pox. TW and I both had conversations with the daycare provider about what we would be looking for if Mozart came down with it. This was, of course, in his presence and his little proclamation this morning was just a way to demonstrate that he is, indeed, listening to everything we say.
By this afternoon another child had been sent home with the pox, but then this evening we got word that it is not, in fact, the pox. It is a mystery virus. It starts with a long period of crankiness, followed by a fever and with some kids develops into spots. But the spots are apparently short-lived, and the kid can go back to daycare 24 hours after the fever is gone - one of Mozart's spotted friends is returning tomorrow.
Well, he certainly has been cranky lately. We'd been attributing it to being two, but maybe this is more transient and the whole thing will lift if he breaks a fever and has done with it.
At least there's strawberries.
Oh, the strawberries!
While the rain has been mostly unrelenting, we have been able to go and pick on a couple of occasions. With all the rain, I wanted to get out their before they turn so this morning being dry, Mozart and I left the house 'round 6am for a picking spree. We got about four quarts in about 20 minutes - the berries are phenomenal! I gave him his own basket - not because I thought he'd actually help, but I figured he'd feel useful. He plucked the berries right out of my basket and put them in his own. Then proceeded to eat them. By the time we left the patch his basket that he filled about a quarter of the way looked like this:
and then by the time we got to teh car, it was empty aside from three half-eaten berries. At least he had a nutritious breakfast!
He did not come up with this on his own. Children very rarely come up with these things ALL on their own.
Yesterday we got the (false) report that one of the kids at his daycare had come down with the chicken pox. TW and I both had conversations with the daycare provider about what we would be looking for if Mozart came down with it. This was, of course, in his presence and his little proclamation this morning was just a way to demonstrate that he is, indeed, listening to everything we say.
By this afternoon another child had been sent home with the pox, but then this evening we got word that it is not, in fact, the pox. It is a mystery virus. It starts with a long period of crankiness, followed by a fever and with some kids develops into spots. But the spots are apparently short-lived, and the kid can go back to daycare 24 hours after the fever is gone - one of Mozart's spotted friends is returning tomorrow.
Well, he certainly has been cranky lately. We'd been attributing it to being two, but maybe this is more transient and the whole thing will lift if he breaks a fever and has done with it.
At least there's strawberries.
Oh, the strawberries!
While the rain has been mostly unrelenting, we have been able to go and pick on a couple of occasions. With all the rain, I wanted to get out their before they turn so this morning being dry, Mozart and I left the house 'round 6am for a picking spree. We got about four quarts in about 20 minutes - the berries are phenomenal! I gave him his own basket - not because I thought he'd actually help, but I figured he'd feel useful. He plucked the berries right out of my basket and put them in his own. Then proceeded to eat them. By the time we left the patch his basket that he filled about a quarter of the way looked like this:
and then by the time we got to teh car, it was empty aside from three half-eaten berries. At least he had a nutritious breakfast!
Short stories.
Earlier this evening. Mozart is attempting to climb the stairs while holding a book. BatCat watches him from two steps above. He looks at me and notes that I have a case of diapers in my hands, then turns to the cat, with the book presented, and says, "Bat-Cat, hold this." Resourceful, yes, but the cat could not comply.
Our Little MouseCat-eer.
I'm not yet sure whether I'm writing about BatCat or Mozart here.
I suppose it started with BatCat. The other morning I was feeling quite ill after running some errands and Mme. Child had offered to oversee the Boy for a couple of hours. I stopped home to get some scallops for her - I had bought them two days earlier and with the aforementioned illness, I was not about to fry 'em up, so they were going to Mme. Child as well. I park the car, run in the house, get the scallops and notice BatCat on the stairway. She had a mouse. Per usual, she had not killed the poor soul, but instead let it down and batted it about for a minute. I freeze, stare, and scamper around the kitchen trying to find a container that I can put the thing in. I do. I catch the thing (it was alive, but apparently injured/in shock enough so that it wasn't moving too fast), and go to the far corner of the yard to let the thing go.
I thought briefly that perhaps I should take it someplace far away from the house so that it didn't try to get back in, but I just didn't feel well and was already past when I'd told Mme. Child I'd be there.
Fast forward to the next evening. I was feeling much better, though the Boy and I hadn't had any real playtime. We'd gone to pick strawberries, sure, but he still needed some run-around time. Instead of a sit-down dinner, I made him an elaborate snack (including several freshly picked strawberries, of course), and let him play in the yard while eating on the run. I know, I know, not the best habit, but I figured he'd go down easier if he ran around a bit and we didn't have time to sit for a meal and run around. So he's out there munching away, running around, inspecting rocks, munching some more, riding his trike, munching some more, inspecting the grass, munching some more, and telling me about the cute little mouse.
WHAT?!
Oh, yes. That mouse did exactly as I suspected it would do. It headed back to the house. Unfortunately, it's injuries were too much for it and it succumbed to it's end right in the middle of Mozart's play area. I screeched, "Don't touch it!" and for the second time that weekend scampered off to find something I could carry the thing in. And thankfully Mozart did not touch it, but he did want to, "Keep it?" I told him no, definitely not, it had to go. "Where?" he asked. And I said something to the effect of, a journey to heaven, or the like, as I tossed it into the trees.
Thankfully he did not ask further questions, but I realized that he is not to the age when he will start asking more difficult questions, and I'll have to explain things like death, love and war. *sigh* He is growing up. I am in awe every day by what he is saying an thinking and doing.
I suppose it started with BatCat. The other morning I was feeling quite ill after running some errands and Mme. Child had offered to oversee the Boy for a couple of hours. I stopped home to get some scallops for her - I had bought them two days earlier and with the aforementioned illness, I was not about to fry 'em up, so they were going to Mme. Child as well. I park the car, run in the house, get the scallops and notice BatCat on the stairway. She had a mouse. Per usual, she had not killed the poor soul, but instead let it down and batted it about for a minute. I freeze, stare, and scamper around the kitchen trying to find a container that I can put the thing in. I do. I catch the thing (it was alive, but apparently injured/in shock enough so that it wasn't moving too fast), and go to the far corner of the yard to let the thing go.
I thought briefly that perhaps I should take it someplace far away from the house so that it didn't try to get back in, but I just didn't feel well and was already past when I'd told Mme. Child I'd be there.
Fast forward to the next evening. I was feeling much better, though the Boy and I hadn't had any real playtime. We'd gone to pick strawberries, sure, but he still needed some run-around time. Instead of a sit-down dinner, I made him an elaborate snack (including several freshly picked strawberries, of course), and let him play in the yard while eating on the run. I know, I know, not the best habit, but I figured he'd go down easier if he ran around a bit and we didn't have time to sit for a meal and run around. So he's out there munching away, running around, inspecting rocks, munching some more, riding his trike, munching some more, inspecting the grass, munching some more, and telling me about the cute little mouse.
WHAT?!
Oh, yes. That mouse did exactly as I suspected it would do. It headed back to the house. Unfortunately, it's injuries were too much for it and it succumbed to it's end right in the middle of Mozart's play area. I screeched, "Don't touch it!" and for the second time that weekend scampered off to find something I could carry the thing in. And thankfully Mozart did not touch it, but he did want to, "Keep it?" I told him no, definitely not, it had to go. "Where?" he asked. And I said something to the effect of, a journey to heaven, or the like, as I tossed it into the trees.
Thankfully he did not ask further questions, but I realized that he is not to the age when he will start asking more difficult questions, and I'll have to explain things like death, love and war. *sigh* He is growing up. I am in awe every day by what he is saying an thinking and doing.
Here fishy, fishy, fishy!
Rather than going on about the massive temper tantrums we've been experiencing lately, may I just say:
I LOVE MY FISH CSA!
The Atlantic cod was to die for. The calamari, which I would never in a million years bought on my own, was absolutely succulent. And the swordfish, which I thought I didn't like, was REALLY good! This week we will likely get Hake and Flounder with the option of buying Scallops. I am in my glory.
I will say here that I grew up in a drought-ridden land with no fish available that could be considered anything but freezer burned. We did move to Minnesota - land of 10,000 lakes - for my teenage years, but somehow we never got into the fishing or the eating of fish. I have previously made a fine salmon (I credit it to a chef at one of the restaurants I worked at who told me to never, ever overcook the salmon) dinner: think a perfectly grilled salmon steak topped with creme fraiche and oregano, with a side of sticky rice and chantarelle mushrooms... and I have experimented with frying up catfish, or baking various whitefishes, but I haven't had a lot of success with the latter.
But now. This fish is fresh. I mean still flapping a fin fresh. And the CSA sends recipes along for the trying! I am looking at these and then comparing to other recipes, and lo and behold, I love fish!
Tomorrow I pick up my veggie CSA for the first time. I still have to figure out Kohlrabi (Mme. Child insists that I do a slaw, but I'm not convinced)... Let the season truly begin!
I LOVE MY FISH CSA!
The Atlantic cod was to die for. The calamari, which I would never in a million years bought on my own, was absolutely succulent. And the swordfish, which I thought I didn't like, was REALLY good! This week we will likely get Hake and Flounder with the option of buying Scallops. I am in my glory.
I will say here that I grew up in a drought-ridden land with no fish available that could be considered anything but freezer burned. We did move to Minnesota - land of 10,000 lakes - for my teenage years, but somehow we never got into the fishing or the eating of fish. I have previously made a fine salmon (I credit it to a chef at one of the restaurants I worked at who told me to never, ever overcook the salmon) dinner: think a perfectly grilled salmon steak topped with creme fraiche and oregano, with a side of sticky rice and chantarelle mushrooms... and I have experimented with frying up catfish, or baking various whitefishes, but I haven't had a lot of success with the latter.
But now. This fish is fresh. I mean still flapping a fin fresh. And the CSA sends recipes along for the trying! I am looking at these and then comparing to other recipes, and lo and behold, I love fish!
Tomorrow I pick up my veggie CSA for the first time. I still have to figure out Kohlrabi (Mme. Child insists that I do a slaw, but I'm not convinced)... Let the season truly begin!
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