Flavorful, Succulent, Tender - Every Time

You've noticed haven't you, that the demand for locally raised, sustainably produced, fresh, real, whole, and flavorful food is on the rise?

And, you've also observed that there's a surge of interest in homestead practices, self sufficiency, earth keeping, participation in co-ops and markets, natural non toxic products, all things homemade or handmade,  and farm shares, right?

In fact, I think there's a word that's been adopted to try and capture the essence of some of these practices, and although I've not mentioned everything the word implies, much of what I've written is included when someone describes themselves as "crunchy". It's kind of fun reading through the urban dictionary and other sources when you put "crunchy" in the search bar!

When Weekend Farmer Husband and I made our big move to Liberty Farm, being crunchy was completely off the radar.

That was then.

Now, we at many levels talk the talk and walk the walk.

Why this long introduction that has nothing to do with the title of this post?
Well, first, if you've been here very long, you know that's typical.
Second, it's important that you know that much of what follows comes out of a vast share-house of people like you and me who are interested in the same topics, and have written and shared extensively on their success, failure, and practices.
So, what I'm about to record is a compilation of many generous sources.

For the last three years we have raised Freedom Ranger chickens to fill our freezer and eventually our bellies.  We purchase our chicks here, and if you visit the website, you'll get an easy overview of the breed and their distinctives.

They are quite large when finished. They are big breasted, long legged, with substantial thighs.  So, it's taken some getting used to when cooking.

If I remember the following steps, our dinner is flavorful, succulent, and tender - every time.  (phew, you were wondering weren't you if I'd ever get there?!)

• First, and I'm coming to believe most importantly, give these birds plenteous time to defrost.  Like days.  If it's a whole chicken I have it in my refrigerator for up to 5-7 days just slowly thawing, tissues softening. If I've been flighty - right- when I'm flighty and I forget to plan ahead, I sometimes rush this process, and without fail the meat is less flavorful and not as tender. Chicken should be tightly wrapped.
• Second, use a meat thermometer to check for doneness.  For me this began because my oven does not have a thermostat (no joke), so the temperature is not well regulated.  I have learned to cook by "feel" until such time as we replace the oven.  And, my trusty partner is an oven thermometer that can endure the heat of the oven and give me feedback about doneness. Your "normal" super store chicken is quite a bit smaller with more moisture injected into its tissues, so they cook much faster.  Which leads me to my next point.
• Third, allow enough cooking time.  These birds (given my particular wonky oven) take up to 1/3rd longer than the name brand chicken I used to get from my grocery store.
• Fourth, be generous with oil or butter when preparing your bird.  I've come to love butter for oven roasting chicken, and let me tell 'ya, even Paula Deen would be shocked by the amount of butter I use!
• Fifth, get your chicken started in a hot oven.  450 degrees. Then, back the temperature off to 350-375 for the remainder of the cooking time.  If my oven isn't behaving too schizo, I keep it hot for about 25 minutes, and then finish out at the lower temperature. (Most of the birds I prepare for our family are between 6.5 and 7 lbs.  Yup, you read that right.  Smaller birds = less time)
• Sixth, once your wonderfully aromatic chicken has reached an internal temperature of 165 degrees, pull that golden masterpiece out of the oven, discretely wipe the corners of your mouth because you're starting to drool. Wait. That's just me. Let the bird "rest". At least 10 minutes before carving.
• Seventh, keep in mind that I am an intuitive cook.  I rarely consult recipes and am prone to cook and create from what's available in my pantry, freezer, and refrigerator.  If what I've written is not detailed enough, use your mighty computer to source more specifics.  I'll link some helpful info at the end of this post to get you started!
• Eight, if a whole bird is too much for you (and there are many reasons why that could be - no guilt, I promise), fire up your YouTube channel, sharpen your knives, put on an apron (I like cute and colorful ones), and watch and learn how to portion up a whole chicken.  

Ignore the straight face and focus on the cute apron.  It was Monday. And February.  And I live in the North.  Brr.

• You then have options.  Dark meat in stews or soups.  Breasts on the grill or in a spicy pasta dish.  Endless opportunities.  Remember - plan ahead for defrosting.  In my family, this approach requires me to defrost three whole birds, but the variety and flexibility of using different part of the chicken at different times make the refrigerator space and time worth it. 

What? you're wondering if I have a restaurant size refrigerator?  Mwahahahaaaaah! Nope. I have a humble 16 year old "regular" refrigerator.  Maybe even a lot like yours?

• Ninth and finally, keep trying.  It's taken me awhile to fine tune my process to accommodate for the different kind of bird and meat than I'd been accustomed to.  Commit to the value of the product, the practical ideology of supporting your local farmer, and the nutritional benefits of whole, real food.  No experience is ever wasted, and if you end up with a mealtime bust, clear the table, whip up some scrambled eggs, or bread and cheese, or whatever. Shred the chicken, turn it into soup, salad, or casserole, and purpose to try again.  You won't regret it.

Okay, my fellow crunchies and crunchy wannabes - join the conversation! Share your best pins, Aunt Ginny's no fail recipe, or your questions.  Please? We'll all be the better for it, and so will supper.

xoxo 

Laura

Link to the You Tube channel with myriad tutorials on cutting up whole chickens here.

This is an informative blog post about the chickens I reference and we use the same practices at Liberty Farm.  Bonus - specific recipe included!

Many of these tips are a repeat, but it's sometimes helpful when sources independently confirm each other.

This post has lots of comparable information as well, but toward the bottom there's a yummy looking recipe for a split roasted chicken.  Will definitely be trying this!
And, last but not least, this a a magazine article reprinted from Alice Water's (a queen bee crunchy if you ask me...) The Art of Simple Food.

Note: Although I've read each of the posts above, I've not explored the each blog in depth - maybe you'll come back and tell me what you found?

Spending or Saving - One of our Habits

Howdy y'all - time to get back in the saddle and on the trail of this little series I started about handling our finances.

You've been so gracious about waiting for me to get back here and get on topic, so let's see what we can get nailed down today, okay?

We've been talking about habits to cultivate, and I've up to this point shared what I think are general ideas.  The following, (and final), habits are some that Weekend Farmer Husband and I have personally adopted.

I've only got a few minutes so I think I'll only get to one...
(And, pssssst - today is Weekend Farmer Husband's BIRTHDAY!  I'm gonna scuttle away from the computer really quick like and help my little farm chicks make their daddy breakfast in bed. Awwwww.)

Be Healthy.  Honestly, this is something we didn't pay much mind to until our post 40 bodies demanded it.  Suddenly there were aches, pains, noises, mild injuries, ailments, and energy drain that seemed to come from nowhere.  And, they were chronic.  They got our attention.

We changed a number of our practices - exercise, food, supplements, reducing toxins in our food and environment, began learning about essential oils, and overall became our own health advocates. Not only are we doing this for ourselves, we're including the farm kids.  They tease that I'm a little too out there when I suggest for example that we might try rubbing some essential peppermint oil on their temples and neck when they've got a mild headache rather than offering a  common pain reliever, but once they get the initial thrill of ribbing their mom, they're respectful participants.

And, you know what?  We all feel better.  True story.

Although we cannot see into the future, and we can't know what health threats we might encounter, we've decided to pursue a slow but steady progression of stewarding our health day to day rather than singularly having a well funded medical savings account.

Specifically, we've increased our food budget and decreased our medical expenses budget.  Understanding food as medicine, we pay our grocer and our farmer more, and we participate in our local health food center's buyer discount. And, when necessary, we visit our pediatrician, chiropractor, and other health care practitioners.

We started by reading blogs, newsletters, journals, books and talking to folks who are ahead of us in adopting and integrating these practices.

As I've said before, the changes we've made have been incremental. We're a strong willed highly opinionated bunch, so changing everything all at once was not only financially too complicated, I think I would have had mutiny on my hands.

So, if this is of interest to you I'd suggest picking an area or two that seems "right" for your circumstances to research and then apply your findings.  And, then pre-plan how it will impact your budget so that there aren't surprises to the bottom line.

The little chicks are barely able to contain their excitement - off I go to scramble up some super healthy eggs from our hens and whip up some sort of spicy and potent warm drink.  I think something with chocolate is the way to go - what do you think?

xoxoxo,
Laura

4 Cheese Pasta

Last Saturday was a huge work day at the farm.  An unusual winter thaw came our way and we spent the day in short sleeves and work boots catching up on tasks that had been left to wait in the deep freeze of winter.

I love these work days.  All eight of us, leaning into a common goal, telling jokes, shoulder to shoulder building memories and skills.  That sounds a little romanticized, yes?  Well, maybe just a little.  It was one of those magical days when it all went as it should and as we hope.

With big work come big appetites.  Most of my day was spent between two places – the laundry room and the kitchen.  Talk about work horses, that’s what these two areas are.  I don’t love the laundry.  I’m resigned to it, and in a good moment, thankful for the mundane opportunities to serve.  I do love to cook though.  My love language is expressed at the stove and oven, and I place food gifts on a plate at the family table.

Maybe I’ve been reading my new cookbook from Pioneer Woman filled with remarkable food pictures, or maybe I've got a new phone with a camera feature that I am enjoying taking lots of pictures with.  Maybe both.  As the noon meal drew near, I had fun thinking about  the process of and taking images of one of our simple and satisfying Saturday favorites: 4 Cheese Stovetop Pasta.

Reader beware- this is loaded with high calorie make my life worth living goodness.  Don't tell your cardiologist you ate it.  He'll have a heart attack.

Ingredients:

1 stick butter

¾ cup white flour (will work with wheat, you’ll just make a few adjustments to match your preferences)

2 cups milk, or milk and heavy cream combined

4 cups chicken stock

1 brick cream cheese

3 cups shredded sharp cheddar

8 oz. block white cheddar, cubed (all kinds of substitutions work for this)

2 tsp. kosher salt

fresh ground pepper to taste

2 boxes Penne pasta (we've used all kinds of shapes/types.  I like change.)

Romano cheese, chives or chopped green onion, bacon to garnish

Remember, we’re a large, physically hard working family.  This will yield about 16 servings – I love having leftovers!

To begin, melt butter in a dutch oven over medium heat on your range.  You can use any heavy bottomed pot, I just happen to love my dutch oven.  And red.   All my enamelware is red.

Once melted, whisk in flour until it begins to turn a caramel color and bubble a little on the bottom of your pan.

I decided to make my roux (fancy french y'all), a little thicker so I tossed in about a tablespoon of additional flour.  Perfect.

Slowly add milk/cream stirring constantly.

And again with the chicken broth – slowly and stirring constantly.

For the record, this post changed. my. life.  At least in regard to chicken broth. Amen.

You might find you play around with your heat setting for this next part.  Your big goal is to not scald the milk/white sauce on the bottom of your pan.  I almost always do.  Something shiny  grabs my attention.  My pets love me when I do this.  They growl with delight and gladiator like enthusiasm when this is all over and the pan gets placed on the floor…For the record, the cats always win out over the dog.

Eventually, maybe sooner rather than later, you’ll notice your sauce start to thicken.  Really you will.  Maybe 12 minutes…depends on how well you manage your flame/heat setting.  Be sure you’re stirring fairly regularly during this stage.  You want to offer the pets a treat not a meal when it’s all over!

See how the edges look different and there's a lovely smooth consistency?

 Add the salt, season with pepper.

 It’s ready for us to add our block of cream cheese.

Before you do though, turn your flame to high under a big stock pot of water.  Soon you’ll want to start cooking your pasta.

Yup, I just drop the whole thing in there.  If there’s lots of interesting things going on in the kitchen I turn the heat down real low and let it dissolve slowly .  If I've done some deep breathing and am really focused, I can keep my heat on medium, stir constantly, and get that big brick to soften and dissolve a little sooner.

Side note- if you know ahead of time you’re going to serve this creamy cheesy delight, by all means take your cream cheese out of the frig and let it soften on the counter .  You know, I often learn more from what I haven’t done than what I do…Just sayin’.

And, while we’re on tangents, you might want to consider having washed last night’s  dishes from the marauding band of ice cream eaters that moved through your kitchen, and the famished farm workers who cleaned your larder out for breakfast.  Of course, I didn’t.  Still smart like that.

Now that I’ve rambled enough, the cream cheese is nicely melted.  Add in the sharp cheddar cheese and the white cheddar.  Stir until dissolved.

Yummo kerrygold cheddar left over from holiday shenanigans.  We're not usually this fancy.

My current range is wimpy, wimpy, wimpy.  Even though I thought ahead on the whole cooking my pasta thing, I probably should have started my water sooner.  Good thing this cheesy sauce is so thick and my beloved dutch oven so even, I can wait a little bit. You're smarter than me though, so your water has boiled and your pasta is now bubbling along nicely.

While you’re waiting, maybe you want to make a bright lemon Dijon vinaigrette and green salad.  I did.

Once your pasta is cooked al dente, drain,  and immediately combine your hot pasta with your cheese sauce in the large stock pot.  Stir. Stir. Do it again. Stir.  There’s lots of sauce and pasta here, you don’t want to miss the opportunity to marry every little bit together.

If you've got a hungry bunch cheerfully breathing down your neck and inquiring every 5 seconds when dinner will be ready, serve immediately.  If you can, clean up a little before you serve.  You’ll be glad you did since you’re gonna want to linger at the table.  I never can.  Clean up before that is.  I’m all about the lingering.

To the table already.  Garnish with bacon (the real stuff – not the bits), green onion, and Romano Cheese.  Take a picture.  I mean a bite. Well, now, why don’t you just clean your plate.  Unless you have pets.

Are you still reading?  Aren't you a dear.  Give it a whirl, and jump back here to the comments and let me know how it goes, ok?

And, for the record, although I've read many recipes over the years for pasta and cheese, this is my own adaptation of all I've made and copied.  No, I’m not trying to be special, just always want to give credit where credit is due.  And in this case, all the credit goes to my hungry farm hands for without them, it would have been cereal for lunch.

31 Days to Green Acres - Day 26

Welcome! This post if part of a 31 Day Series. To read other entries, please click here. 

If I had a beard, I would have stroked it smooth in the wrestling, wrangling, and writing of this post.  Do you ever have something you want to say and because of an awareness of the possible sensitivity of the topic you tweak a script in your head?  So reader, take care, I'm going to try and carefully, respectfully, and diligently wrestle with one of the more difficult roles of raising animals.

You know, don't you, that I am selective about the images and ideas I post here.  You can come see how we really live anytime - the water is almost always ready to refresh your tea cup, or if a cuppa smoky Joe is for you, come on in.  Dive into our rich, messy, relational, adventuresome life and share it to the full.  But, I've spoken of this before.  Homesteading, farming, redeeming a lost house and property is hard core.  I try to not overwhelm with pictures of the mess, the lengthy weeks of unfinished projects cluttering up useful spaces, or the baser elements of working with animals.

 But, it must be done.  I cannot share this life, or your dream of country life, raising your own food, being more self sufficient, (if that is what you long for), and fail to include the eyes forced open, jaw set, heart racing moments when you look into the eyes of the animal, give thanks for its life and how it will sustain yours, and then pull the trigger or draw the knife.

I've recently shared with you the defining moment when in our down time, following one of our major projects, we responsively and somewhat impulsively decided to bring animals to the farm.  Our initial ambition  was to personally reject the feedlot model of bringing beef to our family table.  We were horrified and grossed out at our ignorant participation in what we have come to believe is an unsustainable and unsuitable industrial production paradigm.

(An important aside here...there is a lot of passion for a lot of folks surrounding these topics.  I hope I'm able to avoid a sanctimonious or righteous tone. I believe their, our, passion is appropriate   But sometimes, our passion acts as a roadblock to kindness, respect, and civil discourse.  My experience is that passionate people have much to agree on, but are strangely prone to focus on disagreements. Although that focus is not wrong, it can lead to wounding words and blind assumptions that do harm.  I pray we are spared.)

Mercifully, our first year was easy.  Grass grew abundantly.  We experienced zero predator problems.  Water flowed freely and it was neither too hot nor too cold.  And, our cows were particularly amenable, cute, and powerhouses of feed conversion.  A good season assisted us in our first slaughter since our yield had come easily.  That is, we worked hard, but were easily rewarded.  And, oh, there was a delightful increase of satisfaction, variety, and flavor at the family table.

You saw it, didn't you.  The word jumps out at me.  Slaughter.  It must be done to complete a season's cycle and to fulfill the purpose for which the animal was brought on the farm.  But no matter how many times I swallow hard, set my resolve, and do what must be done, I find that each time I grow more sensitive and appreciative of life's rythyms, rituals, and sacrifices.

On on small scale, we are accomplishing what we set out to do.  That is rewarding.  But it comes at a cost.  Yes, we make up front financial commitments each season hoping for a return, but that is only a part.  We invest time, sweat, hours, muscles, space, free time, and freedom to actively enact and advocate change in food supply practices.  We do it for ourselves.  We do it for our customers.  And we do it for our animals.

Humane practices have become so important to us.  And, we are such rookies.  With only two seasons under our farm belts we barely know what we're talking about.  But, the quality of the animal's life matters to us, and not just because of the product yielded, but because of a reverence and respect for the design and dignity of the animal.

This year was hard.  Extremes of weather and personal circumstances tested our limits.  In hindsight, we took on more than we should have, but who could know that so many variables would converge with such intensity?  The animals required much of us, and there were times when in exhaustion or defeat we would find ourselves guilty of the very practices we critique.  We'd fail to get fresh water in the most timely manner, or we wouldn't move animals to fresh pasture soon enough, and the balance would quickly tip into a redirect of energy and attention so that the animals were better served.  That all required more effort.  And with greater effort the yield is more hard fought, and in our case, emotions more fragile.  Near the surface.

Alternately, because of greater emotional exposure, we find ourselves more grateful and more broken at the end of the season.  Grateful that we were able to finish the animals and the butcher says the product looks great.  He says, "You guys nailed it."  That's no small praise and we trust our customers will concur.

Broken because when we bedded the cows down one last time in a confined pasture we knew we'd greet them at the fence in the morning with a rifle.  I can see the place they last lay from my bed.  Their imprint is still fresh in the grass, and even though our laying hens make short work of cleaning up the nasty business left behind, there are sections of green carpet that are still slick red.

Yesterday we killed our cows.  How else do you say it?  Quickly, steadily, without wavering the trigger pulled back and the barrel released it's bullets in quick succession, and cows bent low, yielding their lives to us.

Friend, come to your table with thanks for the life sacrifice an animal made to sustain you.  Remember the farmer who serves both you and the animal.  Join me in gratitude for eyes to see this beautiful broken life we share.  And, please, if you still long for a little piece of this grand journey, be resolved to do hard things.

When Monday turns to Liquid

I don't even know how it came up.

Following a restful afternoon with books, bike rides, naps, and games we gathered round the heavy wood table, bowed our heads, gave thanks to God for his abundance and began feasting.

Conversation ebbed and flowed, often the table is divided, little kids down by Weekend Farmer Husband talking about horses, play in the swimming pool, and the big kids down by me, new videos on YouTube, friends, work, and me just trying to keep up with it all.

Then the one whose middle name means "Pearl", and whose very name reminds me that my treasure is not of this earth, rather my riches lie with the King of Kings who will make all things new, asks a hard question.

"Who were the Nazis?"

And for once, the table talk stills.

Weekend Farmer Husband pauses, considers who asked the question and who's listening, and does a masterful job of creating a simile. A Nazi is like....

She nods her head.  Gets it.

Conversation lingers on the airstrip, and just as it's readying to take off, I call out for it to stop.  We need to linger here.  More needs to be told.  Although they should not yet need to carry the weight of the whole truth, it's time for them to learn to think more complex thoughts about what it means that there even are Nazis, how scarred human history is by yet another of our atrocities, and how unless we learn from history we are compelled to repeat it.

Firstborn son, with a teacher's heart and deep reservoirs of history, leads his younger sisters gently into new places of knowing, greater understanding, and satisfied curiosity without revealing the making of nightmares.

Humming again, conversation rises and falls, the family table comes to a close, and soon the youngest are being tucked in, and I'm singing what I sing each evening and telling Truth to them as our final words of the day.

Neither of the littles likes to fall asleep in the dark.  So I turn the same light on each night, and as I do so I give the benediction to their day.

"This light reminds us, girls, that Jesus is the light of the world, and NOTHING can separate us from His love."

Settled, they each reach for a book and read until slumber comes.  I return before slipping between my own sheets to usher darkness into the room.  All is well.  Peace is on us.

By the next morning I barely remember what happened not 12 hours earlier.  It's not that I can't.  It's that I don't.  I'm well into reviewing what must be done, setting up tasks, steeling myself for the day, replacing a wayward kitten back outdoors, inwardly groaning but smiling when the youngest gets up quite a bit too early. Frankly, I've failed in the discipline of taking time to remember the gospel and what it means today.  What it means for all of history.

Oh friend, how careless I am.

But, even more, how good He is.

Lunch is late today.  It affords a small opportunity for me to sneak away and check in on one of my "must read" blogs.

And I am undone.

Although I was already planning to chronicle gifts here today I am again stunned by my history.  Of a man who died in my place.  And the gift of His life for mine really is the whole of my list.

*************

Consider, won't you please, clicking on this and reading along with me what made thanksgiving, contrition, and joy run liquid down my cheeks in the middle of this regular Monday?  It will help make so much more of my small words above.

And as for the gifts, the many I enjoy and the ones I think to chronicle just this:

"It is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me."