Local Shopping, Winter Edition

Michael and I did some local shopping on Saturday, and while it's not as easy as finding a summer time farmer's market, it's still entirely do-able.


We went to three different businesses all within 30-45 minutes of home, Picket Fence Creamery, where we bought a dozen eggs, a pound of butter, 12 gallons of skim milk, 1 gallon of whole milk, 2 pounds of egg noodles from Amana, a gallon of cider, and a pound of ground goat meat. Jill Burkhart, the owner, said many people freeze their milk, so we decided to give it a try. I still need to buy eggs, as my hens are only just beginning to lay.


From Picket Fence we traveled a couple miles down the road to Northern Prairie Chevre, where we purchased feta, several varieties of chevre, and a bottle of Iowa wine. So far we haven't found an Iowa wine that we like, but I keep trying.

Then, we drove to Adel to Wills Family Orchard, where we purchased the most gorgeous Empire apples. I've never had this variety of apple before, but it's now one of my favorites!

All together we spent only about $127, not bad for all this yummy food.

Oh, and the goat meat?
Michael made delicious homemade pizzas for supper, one of which featured sauteed goat meat, feta and chevre, some of the last of our local frozen green peppers, and local onions. Only the olives weren't local.




The pizza was fantastic and only used 1/2 the goat meat, so we'll definitely be having this kind again. A little accident with a sprinkling of cinnamon in the cooking meat only added to the Mediterranean flair of this local meal. (Thankfully!)

Of Warm Weather and Mud

Our "mini-Spring" here in Iowa seems to have come to an end.

I've never been so relieved.

What?

Me?

Who's cold from October to April?

Who still wears socks in June?

Glad the 60 degree weather is gone?

Yup.

You see, a funny thing happens when temps warm and the snow melts.

Mud.

Lots and lots of mud.

In fact, a yard full of mud.

And these days, a yard full of mud = a house full of muddy dogs.

One dog, in particular.

Of course, it's my little primrose.

While the older dogs love to go outside and play, their shorter coats and smaller feet seem to collect less mud.

Of course, Ivy doesn't just run while outside. Every outdoor experience involves rolling, sliding, digging and skidding through the yard.

Clean-up sessions might last up to 30 minutes, and involved a bucket of warm water, multiple towels, and immeasurable patience.

From all involved.

So while today's temps in the 30s have me throwing an extra log on the fire, it is with huge relief. I'll make hot chocolate and wear an extra sweater while I bask in winter's return.

And I'll try not to think about spring...

Dark Days Eat Local - Week 12

I seem to be cooking on the fly lately, not coming up with a dinner plan until the 11th hour. This is when I become especially grateful for my freezer. I found a package of leftover ratatouille from this fall. Just enough to make a ratatouille quiche!


Ratatouille, a French vegetable stew, is one of my favorites. The batch I made last fall was chock full of local and homegrown veggies, including eggplant, peppers, tomatoes, and onions. Combine it with a few spices and some local gouda cheese and our own eggs and it makes an incredibly delicious crustless quiche.

Local green beans, frozen at their peak of freshness, served with a little butter and salt

Home made bread...

And applesauce streusel quick bread for dessert, made with home canned applesauce and local (purchased from a Missouri farmer on our way home last fall) pecans.

Happy Hookers

Melissa and I have been taking a rug hooking class.

We are two of the four pupils in the class. It's funny, the other two women and I discovered last week that we all live within probably about 1/2 mile of each other. We also share a lot of the same interests, though we are at different stages in our lives. We've talked about wanting to learn how to pressure can, making our own laundry detergent, our crazy puppies, other classes we'd like to take.

Small world.

Our teacher is a wonderful woman whose boundless energy amazes me. She works two days a week, takes care of her grandsons two days a week, is taking classes and completing projects to become a certified rug hooking teacher, dyes and cuts her own wool, knits, takes care of her older brother's health needs... and more, I'm sure.

Something she told us last week made me pause and realize that sometimes I take my relationship with my children for granted.

I am always surprised when I hear of the strife my daughter's friends and acquaintances at school often have with their parents. There is one set of parents who insist their daughter get straight As and won't allow her any extracurricular activities unless she complies. She gets mostly Bs and obviously has a horrible relationship with her parents. It makes me so sad to hear of this; I can only imagine what will happen to this poor girl. I do know she's likely to run as far away from her parents as fast as she can when she turns 18.

And for what?

A parental power trip?

They don't know what they're missing.

Our rug hooking teacher told Melissa and me she was talking to a friend of hers last week about us.

Hmm?

Well, she thinks it is so neat that we're taking the class together and loves how we interact. Melissa and I joke around a lot, poke fun at each other, respect each other and share a profound, tangible love. I guess I didn't realize how obvious the love is from the outside.

Our teacher told us she shared with a friend how special Melissa's and my relationship is and as she told us, she started to cry.

Apparently, her son, as a teenager, committed suicide.

Treasure your relationship, she told us. So many parents don't.

And the loss is nearly unbearable.

I came home that night with a renewed sense of the rightness of my relationships with my children and a greater appreciation of them.

Someone once said when your child walks into the room, he/she should see joy on your face. The joy you have in their mere existence. The love you have for them should be tangible, obvious, and all-encompassing.

I've always tried to remember that.

Because my children are my joy.

A Few Miscellaneous Baked Things

Whole wheat chocolate chip cookies

Oatmeal bread

Applesauce Streusel Bread

Apple Butter Bread

Three Blind Mice Bread

Michael and I have put ourselves on the most strict and best monitored budget/spending plan we've ever had.
I guess at 54 and 45 we've finally decided to grow up.
Anyway, last week I had $70 cash of my weekly spending allotment left and stopped at the grocery store for fresh fruit, fizzy water, dog bones/treats, pop, and bread. Zachary was home for the weekend and served as my human calculator as we weighed out the apples, bananas, oranges, tallied up the cost of the rawhide vs. Busy Bones, and made tough decisions such as skipping breakfast cereal in favor of chocolate chips. We finally got to the bread aisle and it was a sobering experience.
One loaf of whole grain bread was nearly $4 and a loaf of not-so-great French bread, intended for garlic bread for dinner, was $3.29.
When the kids were little I always bought my whole grain breads at the day-old bread store and saved a bundle by making good use of my freezer. But our tastes have changed, I'd like to think improved, and I don't like to stock up on store breads much.
The sticker shock - and sticking to my $70 cash on hand - forced me to recognize the importance of baking our bread myself.
I've always baked bread, usually in spurts, but also heavily relied on the grocery store when I just wasn't in the mood or felt too harried. But let me tell you, it really hurt to spend so much money on bread that doesn't begin to measure up to homemade.
The careful budgeting and sticking to only a certain amount of cash each week has definitely made me consider any and all purchases much more carefully. If I overspend this week, I have that much less to spend the next.
Anyway, I bought the bread as I had none at home, but the very next day I dove back into bread baking with renewed vigor.


Three Blind Mice Bread is a recipe adapted from Jean Hewitt's The New York Times New Natural Foods Cookbook. It's actually called Three Grain bread, but I used to call it Three Grain Rice bread. Somehow, this morphed into the Three Blind Mice Bread my family loves.

2 cups whole wheat flour
4 1/2-5 1/2 cups white flour
1 cup cornmeal
1/4 tsp baking soda
2 tsp salt
5 tsp dry active yeast
1/4 cup butter
2 cups warm water
1/2 cup honey
2 cups cooked brown rice, room temperature
1 egg, beaten

In a large bowl, mix 2 cups of whole wheat flour, cornmeal, salt, baking soda, and yeast. Add butter.
Gradually add warm water and honey, mix thoroughly, approx. 2 minutes, with paddle attachment of stand mixer. Add 1/2 cup more flour and beat 2 minutes more.
Stir in rice and enough extra flour to make a stiff dough. Switch to dough hook and kneed for 6-8 minutes, until smooth and satiny.
Put in an oiled bowl and turn to oil the top. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.
Punch dough down and turn onto floured counter top. Cut dough in half, cover and let rest for 10 minutes. Form each half into a 9-inch round. Place on a greased baking sheet, cover, and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1-1 1/4 hours.
Preheat oven to 375.
Use handle of wooden spoon to make deep indentations in the rounds. Brush loaves with beaten egg.
Bake for 35 minutes or until loaves sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.


For some reason, I always have baked this bread in loaf pans. This time I decided to form the rounds the recipe calls for.

I can only imagine what this bread would have been called had I used this method when the kids were little!

Next time I think I need to place each loaf on a separate baking sheet ...

Rest and Relaxation ...

at last.
This is what Michael sees when he comes home from work at the end of the day.

Doggy number one, snoozing peacefully on the couch.

Doggy number 2, resting quietly under a chair.

Even our recuperating house guest is catching some shut-eye.

Ah, it must have been a beautiful day in the neighborhood, he thinks as he surveys this scene of serenity.

Then he comes upon Sarah, Melissa and myself, barely able to string together a coherent sentence...

laughing madly in the throes of insane hysteria...

obviously suffering from some sort of inexplicable derangement.

What's a poor husband/father to make of this?

What we are suffering is the after-effects of 8 or more hours with 3 dogs. Wally and Gil are mostly easy-going, contributing to the mayhem only when treats are offered, meals are served, or prized toys are stolen.

That's right. It's all little miss sugar plum here.

Every morning is like struggling with a 60 pound 2-year-old on speed, as Ivy races through the house, devastation in her wake.

Nothing is safe, not cats, nor magazines, nor books, nor rugs, nor shoes, nor cloth napkins left on chairs. Today she discovered how to open our automatic kitchen garbage can and found the cleaning supplies stored under the kitchen sink. She emptied the laundry basket one pair of socks at a time, beating me back to the basket to grab a new pair before I could put the newly soggy ones back in.

Believe me, it's not as if I'm leaving her alone and unsupervised.

Really.

She does these things in the blink of an eye, and with her increasing size it's becoming more and more difficult to keep hold of her leash indoors when she's determined to roam.

Yesterday, she spilled her water bowl.

On purpose.

And while I was wiping up the water, stole the kitchen towel right out of my hands.

She also discovered the source of yummy smells - the kitchen counter!

A new place to explore whenever she gets away from me for a second.

My newspaper?

Shredded.

Coffee cup?

Tipped.

Sigh.

Yet right now, as I write this, she's sound asleep at my feet, totally wiped out from her day of crazy mischief. I look at her and am filled with love.

How crazy is that?

Oh, and Michael?

He says he believes us...

but I think he's really just afraid.