Meet the Ladies

Ron and I are really behind on our blog. But maybe you didn't notice. I admit, we have been slacking a bit but I have been cooking more frequently in my Carhartts and even wearing them out and about more. Anyway, here are a few updates from our "small farm."

So it begins. The start of a new experience for us. Yes, we have become one of the "those people" by getting our very own baby chicks in the hopes of having plenty of eggs in the future. With zero experience with chickens, I am loving the first few hours, at least. We got two each of the Rhode Island Red, Black Sex Link, Golden Sex Link, Barred Plymouth Rock and Ameraucanas. We are still working on the names but we did decide the chirpiest of them all will be named Margie after Ron's mom. I think she will be thrilled.

In other news, we got our stove installed downstairs and the bar is almost complete. Ron convinced me that we needed another kegerator so he bought one off of Craig's List from a man who's wife was less than thrilled by his recent purchase. Lucky for Ron he makes good beer so I haven't complained about having his black IPA on tap right now.

I recently took a month long pastry class, which I loved. 6 hours of baking followed by lunch, wine and a sampling of all the desserts was one of the best ways for me to spend my Sundays. However I then became delusional and started going to a naturopath who is not only not covered by my health insurance but insists sugar is ruining my life. A week later I made two batches of amazing ice cream and caramel sauce. So it is a work in progress. But my naturopath will be thrilled to know that Ron and I have been working on our vegetable, fruit and herb seed list for our plot that we plan to do this year. Another thing to take over our lives.

I promise to write more soon and I'm sure we will have tales to tell. And if anyone has advice on how to introduce two border collies to ten chicks, let me know.

Reception Pound Cake and Apple Juice

It must have been a pathetic sight, me sitting in the rain chopping apples and blowing my nose. I have had a cold that won't quit and two large crates full of apples that won't get pressed on their own. With a few sun breaks, I thought today would be my chance. I should have weighed the crates to tell you how many apples you need to make a gallon of juice. Let's just say.....a lot. This is my second batch of juice this year. And besides sneaking a few hot cider drinks out of the batch, I canned the rest today. My first attempt at canning juice so the results my vary.

Our compost if full of apple cores and pulp and each time I add to our compost pile, I am reminded of the hours spent on the apple juice project. So glad I won't be doing this again for another year. I think bribery of friends and family will be in order next time.

The rainy season in Oregon has started and I can't help but feel down. As true for many, this is not my favorite time of year. There are only so many days I can be holed up in my house reading books and sipping on soup to make myself feel better. I think Roscoe, one of our border collies, would agree. He doesn't read, although he has had the taste of a good book in his mouth on many occasions, but he does take a lot of coaxing to go outside for a bathroom break. He gingerly picks his paws up as he slowly creeps through the yard while finding a convenient spot to mark. I wouldn't be bothered by this unless I didn't have to stand with him in the rain holding his imaginary hand all the while. But the dogs had fun outside running around the property today. Here they are post playtime, basking in the sun on the couch.

My cold is a huge setback these days because I feel like a sick puppy with a headache and a smoker's cough that only seems to be soothed by cups of tea and shots of hard alcohol. Each day I have been hoping to be of more help to Ron and assist in projects. But my haze has slowed me. With summer over, I see we didn't do half as many of the outdoor projects I was hoping to accomplish. I think I thought that two people could get boatloads done on 5 acres by themselves. I guess I forgot about work, school, date nights and two high energy border collies demanding attention. And I still think about kids.... Jeez! But I also sit and stew about what I should be doing with my life. Probably a waste of time on many days since I accompany it with coffee/tea or wine, when I am well, along with cake or cookies. And speaking of cake, I recently made my mom's "Reception Pound Cake." I don't know the history of this cake except that it tasted a lot like pound cake and was often served at my mom's many parties. She has always been an incredible host and she would bake late at night after work for work programs and house parties. This and her "7-up Cake" bring back so many childhood memories of being the kid wandering around with punch in my hand and stealing cake from the table while adults spoke about work and things that made no sense to me. I used to sit at the top of the stairwell and listen in sometimes, but mostly disappointed with what I heard. No drama in their lives...... Here is the recipe with a picture of what is left of ours today. Just don't tell her I gave it to you. ;)

Reception Pound Cake
2 1/4 Cup unsifted flour
1 1/2 Cup sugar
1 tsp grated lemon, lime or orange rind
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 Cup sour cream
1 Cup butter, softened
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 eggs

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour a fluted tube pan or two loaf pans. Blend all ingredients until moist. Beat batter at medium speed for 3 minutes. Pour batter into pans. Bake for 55-65 minutes. Glaze while still warm or cool completely and sprinkle with powdered sugar.

Glaze
1 Cup powdered sugar
1 or 2 Tbs lemon juice.

Blend until smooth.

Don't try this at home

It has been awhile since I have written a blog so for all of those loyal readers (maybe even one of you??) here is the latest update. So far "farm living" has been good with a few challenges, including a coyote moving in, and an array of projects being added to the list. Ron and I have slowly started our little wine collection and we tired of the existing wine shelves in our house that were slanted and ugly. Being ever so crafty, Ron began the quest of making our very own wine racks. It has been months in the making but Ron first envisioned a rack for over 200 bottles. I think we currently have maybe 60 bottles but it would give us the dream big attitude for our future wine collection. Ron did the research, measured bottles and went at it. I don't know if anyone else has taken on such a project but as Ron best put it, "Don't try this at home." For those unfamiliar with the style of rack we were hoping to have we wanted it to look something like this:

Not as many bottles, but you get the idea. Each rack has little pieces of wood that cradle each bottle. Ron's first attempt at making these could have possibly involved surgery. As he was trimming the wood with his saw, the wood, he then realized, had a crack and half shot forward and the other half at his belly. Luckily no wounds but a nice big bruise. At this point, the project took a bit of a hiatus. Here are examples of the little pieces.

After a few weeks, Ron was back at it. Excited on seeing the progress I visited Ron in our shop. He nailed each piece together and stained all of the wood.

His progress was amazing. It was coming together! Our wine room was on its way! But then the text messages started. "Can you bring me a gin & tonic please?" These text messages became more frequent as the days passed, until finally, Ron was done. "I know I said I'd make a rack for over 200 bottles but forget it. We are settling for a rack with 108." Ron was done and while we know we will need more racks one day, they will be purchased. But the results are fantastic. Check out our recent version of our wine rack and room.

One image shows that Ron is building shelves in the back of the wine room. Here we will store overflow of jam, other preserved items and a place to hang cured meats, which we have been dreaming about. Meanwhile, I have been fussing with our fruit trees.

This year we had quite the crop load of apples and pears. Here are some things I have learned about having fruit trees. 1. Learn how to prune. - Ron has been working on this project. I have no clue but must learn so that he can build more wine racks for me. :) 2. Learn how to maintain them once fruit arrives. - Even though we have enough apples to make 1,000 pies, a lot of them have encountered worms. 3. Drop fruit? - Me being in the wine world knows the importance in a vintage for dropping fruit in order to ensure good quality grapes for those left on the vine. Do we do this with apples and pears? 4. Bake, bake and make juice. - I'm kind of sick of fruit desserts at the moment. So what do you do with boat loads of fruit? As I mentioned in item 4, bake, bake and make juice. Well, first I made pear jam. I know. It sounds so weird. And as I was making it, I thought, "What the hell am I doing?!" But the end result was fragrant and delicious. A perfect thing to slather on scones. Just haven't made the scones yet but someday. Next came the pear galette. Then pears in salads. Pears with cheese. Okay, time for a break from the pears. Apple time. Ron and I sampled many from each tree. Some were good, most were lackluster and some were pretty much mush. But we have so many, what do we do?!! Enter Little Red.

Little Red is my neighbor's apple press. I don't know what they call him but Little Red seemed like an appropriate name. And I needed a name for him as we became quite intimate with each other. I spent HOURS on an afternoon cleaning him and learning to assemble him. Little Red had a companion, which I almost did not borrow. Note, if you want to make juice and you are borrowing equipment, DO NOT TURN THIS OBJECT DOWN WHEN OFFERED. I almost did and I'm so glad I didn't. Enter Little Red's companion, the grinding machine.

This bad boy can chip and mince like nobody's business. (Great for grape samples too!) When I mentioned the hours I spent with Little Red, yes there was a lot of cleaning involved but what I really meant was I spent hours chopping apples until I got a blister on my hand from the repetition of chopping with a pairing knife. I thought I was all set when I picked probably 10 pounds of apples. But no! After chopping the fruit and then grinding it, I was left with little to work with. So I picked, chopped and ground more apples for a few hours before I made probably half a gallon of juice. I even threw in some pears because I was sick of putting them in pastry dough. The juice that trickled out of Little Red was the reward, however. I was going to ignore the fact that most of our apple trees are still fully loaded but Ron told me he would assist in the next batch. My next project is canning the juice. And maybe eventually we will make our own hard cider. As labor intensive as it was, I have been thankful for my hot apple juice drinks with mulling spices and knowing it all came from our property. I will be relieved to not be picking apples and pears as fast as I can in the next week or so though. Until next year, Little Red.

The dream basement and bathroom I never knew I wanted

This last week it seems every morning I rise and take too long, as usual, to start my day. I clean the dishes, read the paper while eating breakfast and eventually walk the dogs before I do anything of use. But now I have a bit of a distraction on my hands. But it's a good one, I must say. Our contractor named D has been coming most every day to help Ron with our remodel and specifically on our downstairs and one of our upstairs bathrooms. With the help of D and in the last few crazy months of work, Ron has never ceased to amaze me with his ability to do house projects before and after most days of work. Ron's days are filled with tales of trauma medicine and surgeries that are interesting but grotesque to me; a person who was traumatized from trying to donate blood. I have even had to lay down on the floor of the doctor's office just to take a blood sample. If I were him, I would want to wake up late and drink the rest of the day away in attempt to rid of thoughts of open bodies in a hospital room. But he hums along to pandora radio while working away on the house I never knew we would have or want. It may seem strange that I keep mentioning that I never knew I wanted any of this. Some people thrive on making changes to their homes and designing them. I am a person who spends a large portion of their workdays advising people on what food would pair well with their Pinot Noir but has no clue on how to pair grout with tiles or even know what tiles I like. I spent most of college decorating my dorm rooms with a growing collection of postcards that I taped with masking tape to the walls. Even as a 21 year old woman I destroyed the ceiling of a shared apartment with glow in the dark solar system stickers that I later found out strip ceiling paint, therefore lowering my deposit refund. I am a woman with zero decorating skills and I mean ZERO. And I have quickly learned that there are a bazillion options to choose from when it comes to tile, paint and any other house remodeling item and I am the worst at making decisions. I spend ten minutes walking up and down the cereal isle picking out my breakfast cereal. I am that annoying customer at an ice cream parlor. "Can I try ONE more sample please before I decide?" I know I go on and on about how amazing my husband is on house projects but I don't know how else to break it down to people but he is incredibly handy and I feel so fortunate. He has shown me how to do so many things and done so many things I ask not to know how to do. Growing up, we called professionals to do remodel projects and to fix most things. I woke up one day in college while staying at my parents house to find my car had a flat tire. My dad was out of town so my mom and I called AAA to our house to change it. My parents weren't lazy. They simply didn't have time with their full time jobs and raising two children. When I met Ron I was amazed at his ability to build things. But as for me I can make jam, mow the lawn and walk the dogs. I don't know shit about cars, drywall, grout and frankly, I don't think I want to know. The only thing I have ever built was a small church in wood shop in grade school. The ironic thing was I hadn't been to church in years. And when I was in church, I spent my time drawing snoopy dog pictures on the pamphlets and dreaming about the post church bear claw donut I would be eating at the local bakery. Each day I watch Ron paint for hours, fix electrical wiring, build wine racks, put up lighting.....the list goes on and on. Ron has been patient enough to teach me a few things including how to use the weed wacker, which I am even more terrified of, the lawnmower and a few other things.

I have been banned from painting, however, because I am slow and refuse to follow the painting tips and techniques he offers to show me. Not because mine are better but because it's the only way I see doing it. Sometimes I feel like the housewife who cleans and that the dogs are my children. I walk them, bathe them, play with them, talk annoying baby talk to them, take them to the vet and bake the rest of the time I have free time. I'm embarrassed really. But at the same time, I enjoy it all. And to my credit, I am a very able woman. I wasn't kidding when I said I love my Carhartts. I'm fit and able and once I get my confidence up, I'll build that chicken coop and plant my dream fruit and vegetable garden. I know Ron feels lucky that I am capable to assist even if that means I make oatmeal raisin cookies. Since the basement and upstairs bathroom are not complete, I can give you a few before and after pics to tease you with. Here are some pictures of our basement remodel:

I know, I know. How could we have given up that lush, glorious carpet?! When Ron pulled it all up, the color difference was quite dramatic from where people walked and from what was hiding below the trim. This room scared the crap out of me. And now look at the direction it is going! Ron is finishing up painting it all but with the new look, I think it says party room/entertainment room written all over it. And it is nice to see the dogs scramble around on the hardwood as opposed to imbedding the old carpet with their hair. More tales of the remodel to come.

Running, back pain, frustration and peaches

I was running almost every day for a while and then the aches and pains set in and set me back a bit. After taking some time away from the sport, I took a long run Sunday morning, which was wonderful and horribly painful both physically and emotionally. There is something about exercise that enables me to function. And whatever the exercise, as long as it is brutally tough, is a catharsis for me. As long as I can remember, I have been moving. And I mean constantly moving. I do all activities that I can fit in a day and while I rest, my mind is running the hamster wheel around and around. It's an annoying obsession I can't escape but it enables me to function. I believe my brother is the same. At the dinner table as kids, we would both be twitching, shaking the table and as we tapped our feet and fussed with silverware in our hands. My brother is equally fit, if not more so. We have never talked about it but I believe it has the same meaning for him. A release as the exercise high surges upward and out.

I have noticed recently that when I take cycling classes or run for miles that I finish wanting to cry and I feel relief. It's hard to explain but as weird as it sounds, it feels amazing. And recently, my back has slowed me in my ability to release. I don't know what I did but it hurts like hell. And through all of the discomfort and pain, all I can think about is moving. I mowed part of the lawn yesterday and gritted my teeth through the pain hoping it would simply ease as my body adjusted to the movements. But the only thing that seems to ease the pain is a glass of wine and to roll around in the fetal position on the floor. Possibly not in that order, however.....

The frustration builds with my lack of movement and is coming out in my dreams. My undergraduate degree was in harp music performance. I dreamt the other night that my music professor walked into my gym. I had just finished a ridiculous workout on a rowing machine where I was struggling to find a rhythm. I would push then pull only to be out of sync with the machine. I remember feeling embarrassed and frustrated as I fought with the machine as to how to move as one. So I gave up and encountered two friends and we started to chat. Standing there doing nothing but talk, which is something I dislike doing in a gym. I don't go there to socialize and stand by the water fountain discussing ones day. I find it a waste of time and annoying. I will only do it if I am lifting weights. While my friends and I talk, my music professor walks in from college giving me a disapproving look and fakes a smile while being introduced to my friends. It's so fake it burns me inside to know I have failed her and the rowing machine.

These dreams have increased recently. All of my teachers and bosses appear in my dreams and they rarely say anything but their body language says it all. You aren't doing what you are supposed to be doing. Figure it out already. They all seem disappointed. (Except for my restaurant boss who made me a salad in a recent dream.) It's either these kinds of dreams that shake me awake or me in a car accident.

I know our blog is to be about house remodel projects and food but I had to mention this because since I can't move as easily to release whatever, writing seems to help a little. And I'm sure I'm not the only person in their early 30's wondering if their doing what they are supposed to be doing in life. I know I am not alone in this. But I am pretty frustrated with it. I'm ready for my back pain to ease so I can explode.

So as my back pain distracts me, I distract it with peaches. I recently went peach picking with a friend and picked over 40 pounds in less than an hour! I have kept the creative juices flowing by making peach jam, peach blackberry jam, peach pepper jelly and then slowly freezing the rest. I love making jam. Ron has been working incredibly hard on our house remodel along with our contractor. We had hopes in doing the entire house and property this year. But it is a ridiculous thought because we can barely keep our eyes open while eating dinner most nights. So my incredible husband plugs away at the house before and after work and I make jam. And next year, I will be making jam from fruit from our own yard because our goals will be met, I am sure of it. I can't wait.

I promise to post more before and after pictures soon of the house. What Ron has done with the help of friends and the contractor is truly amazing.

Hardwood Floors and Dreaming of Chickens

Projects never cease. Hardwood floors are about halfway done in our basement and even though all of our rooms are full of crap moved out of the way, the results are wonderful! Even two border collies approve.

Border collie wrestling match on the new floors will follow the taking of this photograph.

We have a friend doing the floors while Ron paints and I watch, unsure of how I can help except bake cookies for fuel.

In the meantime I need chickens. And a rooster. Because I want eggs and to hear chirping. But I don't know where to start. Ron and I have picked out a spot in our shop to build a coop and I simply have no idea what to do even with the advice streaming from books, the internet and friends who own chickens already. I have said that I will take on the task of organizing this venture and being neither handy nor crafty, I feel like maybe I was too ambitious at the thought of being in charge of this project. But every time I eat an egg from the the farm up the road, I see no other choice than to raise chickens myself. I need to channel my inner farm girl.

Don't I look like I'm ready to mow some major lawn? Note the sprig of grass (OK maybe a dried weed) hanging from my lips. Serious farm girl action here. Except I only drove about two feet forward and back on our driveway before Ron took over.

Any tips on building a chicken coop as a woman with no carpentry skills are welcome.

jam and my thoughts

Here I find myself again, staring into a large pan of boiling fruit and sugar. And while I gaze at my raspberry jam, I'm deep in thought about how I can make a living out of baked goods and canned jams and jellies. With bags under my eyes I'm exhausted from the thought of planting a fruit and vegetable garden when I don't even know how to till the ground. Ron and I have dreams of a business. One day we want people to buy our produce while they sip on our home brew and garage wine and lather our bread with homemade jam. And maybe they will walk away with a bag of my homemade cookies and eggs from our chickens that we still need to get. And they will be raving about our bacon and sausages that they will be cooking for breakfast. Recently I checked out The One-Block Feast by Sunset Magazine from the library. "100 recipes made with ingredients from your yard. How to raise chickens, keep bees, brew beer, make wine, and more. Garden plans for 4 seasons." The book is beautiful and everyone looks so happy while they prune vines and dig land to plant seeds. When Ron and I bought our property, it definitely seemed daunting but being newlyweds, we were excited. But we can barely make time to even go on a date, let alone paint a wall or knead bread. Okay, it is starting to sound like I'm whining. What I'm trying to convey is that it's a lot of work but also a lot of fun.

I have become a bit obsessed about checking out books from the library that involve cooking, baking, house projects, and the occasional book about training for a marathon. (Probably won't happen but I pretend I'm training...) I skim through the books and pick the ones I would consider buying to add to our cookbook collection. I did end up buying Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook so that I could master her pastry dough. And I also bought BakeWise by Shirley O. Corriher who is basically a goddess of food science. I wouldn't mind becoming a complete baking geek. I didn't get the Sunset Magazine book though. It was a great book but everyone looked too happy doing their projects so I returned it to the library. Ron and I are happy to have projects but we don't always look that happy while we do them..... Honestly, some really suck.

Speaking of projects Ron has been going gangbusters downstairs. That carpet that made me want to hurl has been ripped up and we had our handy ex-DJ turned contractor who loves to rap, dry wall our soon to be wine cellar. (Yes, he has even "free-rhymed" to me about grout. A post for another time.) Last night Ron painted some of the walls so that we can get our bamboo flooring done. This will be our future entertainment room:

Still working on the color for the party room next to it.

While Ron continued to paint, I mowed about 3/4 of an acre of our property, which took me about 2 hours to do. Lots of hills and I was often attacked by blackberry bushes. I eventually burned out, poured myself a glass of wine and worked on dinner. My brother and sister-in-law gave me Melissa Clark's In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite for Christmas. She writes for the New York Times but I mostly enjoy listening to her be interviewed on The Splendid Table on NPR. Plus she has the most amazing hair color. It's orange red like an heirloom tomato. And kind of the same color as our entertainment room. Anyway, I made her recipe for "Figgy, Piggy Drumsticks and Thighs." Essentially it's chicken browned in a pan of bacon fat, which is then finished in the oven with roasted figs and thyme. I presented it on a platter with wilted lettuce and then you scatter it with bacon and garlic.

I also threw a fresh pizza dough on the grill, spread pesto and Emmentaler cheese on top with corn, shallots and mushrooms.

Finally a dinner I made that I would eat again! Melissa Clark's recipe was super easy and delicious. But anything with bacon is delicious. And the pizza was a perfect accompaniment.

More tales of basement projects to come. I'm sure more wine will be poured to assist.