Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary...

How does your garden grow?

Probably better than mine right now! The other afternoon I left the wee ones for a bit while I went out for errands. About 45 minutes later, just as I was turning onto the drive, I got a panicked phone call from Eldest.

"Mama, mama! Don't be mad... something terrible happened. Promise you won't be mad!"

As I could see the house wasn't on fire, I wasn't overly concerned. "What happened baby?"

"Oh mama," she wailed, "It's tragic. Just tragic!" Eldest, being a hormonal teenager, has recently become .... err, dramatic might be the understatement of the year.

I walked into the house to find three wee ones, just crying and ever so upset. Littlest walks up to me, sniffling, and says in his most serious, dire voice, "Mama, it's bad." Taking me by the hand he led me outside to the kitchen garden, which had obviously been subject to... something.

Kids, I guessed? They shook their heads 'no'. Dogs? No, not the dogs.

I surveyed the damage... Carrot tops decimated, sunflowers mere stumps. Squash vines mangled and pea shoots were non-existent.

"Binky," Middlest bravely volunteered.

You remember this bunny, yes? The one of mooning the old man next door?

It turns out that one of the children had left the garden gate open, and Binky the Bunny from Hell had decided that my garden was the latest All-You-Can-Eat buffet. Oddly enough, she didn't touch the tomatoes (lucky for her, or I would have been kicking some cute-as-a-button bunny-ass!), the aubergines, or the peppers. Even more surprisingly, she didn't touch any of the greens, which were planted right next to the rows of carrots.

First set of (succession) greens

One of the survivors, and the only one left that's flowered out.
I think the rest of them are traumatised.

I know you're jealous of my really fantastic dirt, aren't you? Admit it. You all wish your's was half as rocky awesome as mine, right? And that's after a year of amending the soil, adding 8 inches of dressing, manure, compost, and god-knows-what-else to try and get stuff to grow here. It's been exactly a year in this desolate hellhole in the middle of nowhere. I swear, the earth here grows ROCKS. Plants? Hell no! Rocks it is. A month ago when I set these seeds out, there wasn't a pebble to be seen. It was gorgeous, dark, rich soil. Within days, instead of the seedlings I was expecting, all these little rocks pushed themselves up through the dirt. I'm amazed any of the seeds took at all, to be honest.

And that damn rabbit ate 75% of what was strong enough to grow here.

Temps hit 100* (F) here a few days ago. I'm hoping that a little dip in the temperatures next week will allow a (sooner than planned) second planting of seeds.

Rabbit stew, anyone?

Avocado-Basil Pasta (and Losing My Inner Peace)

On the cooking theme...

I've started making pasta from scratch. It all began when Littlest asked for spaghetti one night instead of the orichette I had on hand. After a quick glance through The Silver Spoon cookbook which I just bought days before (bargain-bin at Barnes and Noble!), I figured it seemed simple enough. Flour, eggs, salt, mix and cut.



From here


In 3 minutes, I had fresh fettuccine made and it took less time to cook than boiling a package of dried stuff from the store.

I was hooked.

We eat pasta 3 nights a week normally, and to think I'd been paying $2 a box for this? Craziness, I tell you! Plus, you have to figure the quality of what I could make could arguably be better than some mass-produced product.

Off I went to the International Market in the Big City for the day, and came home loaded with goodies. Semolina, small-producer olive oil, enormous tins of organic San Marzano tomatoes, French chocolates, German sweet/hot mustard, English teas... I was in heaven, I tell you. I probably blew the entire month's grocery budget on that one store, but hell, it was worth it.

An impulse stop at Williams Sonoma in Big City for ravioli moulds also yielded a pasta chitarra (on clearance at 90% off no less!) Now, I had never seen one before and had no idea what it was, but holy hell, did that turn out to be a fantastic buy. Just look:

You lay a flat sheet of dough across the top, roll across it,
 and the wires cut it into uniform strands.

So much easier than the cutting by hand I was doing! And so much cheaper than buying the pasta attachment for my ancient KitchenAid mixer. (I'm all about buying things as cheaply as possible, who's not these days, right?)

I made some ricotta, and set it to drain over the sink while I made some avocado-basil ravioli dough. Mixed up the ricotta with a bunch of other cheeses, stuffed the ravioli, and enjoyed the simple work of making my own food.

Satisfying day making pasta and finding some much needed inner peace. Mixing, kneading, cooking... they soothe my soul. Stormy weather outside, warm kitchen inside, glass of wine at hand, and dogs sprawled at my feet.

Life is good.

Avocado-Basil Fettuccine
1 avocado
5-6 large fresh basil leaves (more or less depending on your love of fresh basil)
2 eggs
2 c. flour, plus extra for rolling (half semolina, half all-purpose)

Puree avocado and basil 'til smooth in food processor.   Add half the flour, add eggs, and pulse til mixed. Add remaining flour, and mix. It will be a slightly wetter dough because of the avocado. Don't worry about it, just turn out onto floured surface and knead for a few minutes, adding more flour as necessary.

Roll out dough, and cut into strands for fettuccine.

Boil for a few minutes, drain, return to pot. Stir in olive oil or butter, and a generous helping of parmesan. Stir together gently, and serve warm.
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Post-script: I just looked up from posting this, and the god damn dog had her front paws up on the kitchen table and was eating all the avocado-basil pasta I had drying!

Where is that inner peace thing I had going on?

Mother-f*ckin dog! There goes my dinner. Good thing I enjoy this shit... it's back to the kneading board I go.


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**None of the stores mentioned have done anything for me, I just happen to shop there as needed. Don't take it as an endorsement of any place in particular. 

An Environmental and Ethical Dilemma

Some desperately needed rain is here.

Water running down the windows, soft music playing in the background, glass of wine at hand. Perusing cooking and gardening catalogues while the dogs snore gently at my feet. Crochet laying unfinished at my side, and nothing pressing to do.

I've cooked, baked, cleaned and laundered. Went out to check the new coop after the rains had a good go at it. It's solid, dry inside, so far no leaks. I need to finish shingling it, but for tonight, it'll hold.

The rains normally signal the start of the very brief spring that we have, before the summer sun comes and parches every last drop of moisture from the earth here, scorching the gardens, and burning anyone who's not covered. But they're late in starting this season, and I'm afraid the few weeks of spring we normally get will not happen this year.

I hate this place, it's a barren wasteland where the only things that grow naturally are tumbleweeds. It sucks the soul not only out of the earth, but out of the people here. I struggle daily with the need for green, for growth, for beauty, and with the environmental price I'm willing to pay for that. Water is scarce here, and water restrictions are in effect year-round, as are limits on landscaping. Rock is prevalent, people have cactus instead of lawn. People fault me for using so much water, consider it wasteful. Why use scarce water for irrigation instead of just buying my vegetables from the store like every one else?

Yes, I should feel guilty for "wasting" water and contributing to the demise of the natural environment here. Especially because I, more so than most people, enjoy the few outdoor benefits that this desolate place offers: hiking, rock climbing, and sailing on our only water source.

But I don't. Because I need the peace of mind knowing where my food comes from, and peace in my soul from looking outside and seeing the kids swinging from the trees, playing tag on the grass, collecting eggs, and harvesting their own vegetables and fruit instead of sitting inside playing video games and losing the ability to think for themselves.

So, while many say that I'm contributing to the lowered levels of the lake that we survive on, and wonder how I can consider myself an environmentalist while I so blatantly pervert the course of nature here, I say I'm protecting the future of the environment by teaching the children personal responsibility, how to grow their own food in a sustainable and careful way, and giving them memories of a happy childhood to look back on. All while living as environmentally responsibly as I can.

Recipe Round-up

I don't know about you all, but I am a big-time stress eater. Doesn't matter if I'm hungry or not, if I get stressed I immediately shove something in my mouth. Not the best idea, I know. Especially at my age when it seems like not only has gravity dragged my boobs down, but also pulls all the calories and fat down to sit firmly on my hips and thighs.

You too? No? You have no problem with weight? Ah well... you suck. (Just kidding. Kind of.)

So this week, thanks to the visual addiction that is Pinterest, I've been enticed into making a bunch of recipes I've never made before...

Monday: Pierogies

Not the ones I made, although mine were pretty too.
Just not this pretty. And we ate them all before I could take a pic.

  My maternal grandparents were Lithuanian, and growing up, I remember my mother always feeding us pierogies fried up in butter and topped with onions. I remember the smell of frying butter in the air, the slippery smooth dough on my fork, the feel of the mashed potato filling bursting open with the first bite.

  Now, being that my mother isn't really the domestic sort, can't cook worth crap, and that it was the 70's when I grew up, I'm guessing my mother fed us Mrs. T's Pierogies.

However, I figured I'd give it a go. And boy, am I glad I did. Even the wee ones, who are generally adverse to trying any new foods and are annoyingly picky eaters, loved them (except the onions, which I more than gladly ate for them.)

Tuesday: Homemade pizza

  Quick, easy, and kid-friendly.

Wednesday: Veggie Pot Pies

  Since Wednesday was Pi Day (3.14 for all you non-math-geeks) I made pot pies for dinner. The kids verdict? Eh. The recipe I used called for a basic salt/water/flour crust. And it was crap, so I can't blame the kids. Note to self: use a real pie crust recipe (ie: BUTTER!) next time.

Thursday: Egg Rolls

  My sister is half-Vietnamese, and when I was home last summer for a family funeral, her mother came down to visit. I remember lying down in my room, exhausted after a long day, and listening to the clatter coming from the kitchen. Her tiny mother, who doesn't speak English well, barking out orders in the kitchen while preparing dinner...

  "What ADoC eat? No meat? She no eat meat? That's crazy! Ok. Shrimp. I make shrimp!" Banging of pots and pans ensued.

  "You! Chop cabbage! And you! Carrot!" Chop, chop, chop, and the sizzle of oil hitting the pan. Soon the smell of frying vegetables wafted throughout the house, and I dragged myself from bed, feeling guilty that she was cooking and I wasn't helping.

  I entered the kitchen, my sister and niece rolling vegetables in pastry (and drinking wine) at the counter.

  "ADoC! You eat shrimp egg roll? I make you egg roll! You need eat!"

  I look around the kitchen, 3 generations of Asian women gathered, long black hair pulled back into ponytails, barefeet padding around the floor. Deft hands rolling, wrapping, and frying, the room filled with  laughter, grimaces at each other behind Mom's back, shared grins of commiseration as she told everyone what to do.

  Family, maybe not blood, but family nevertheless.

I made egg rolls last night, alone in my kitchen, in an empty house. The kids gone for the weekend, the house quiet. I thought back to that night last summer, and my heart ached a little...

They're just egg rolls, but to me, they're so much more.

Ho Hum... No Eggs, and Broody Chooks

It's been a busy couple of weeks here. Between adopting Mollie and Valentine's Day required nonsense for the wee ones, it's been a little, erm, hectic shall we say?

No "Mother of the Year" award here...
The required 'nonsense' is decorated with pink Gaff tape, and
purple and green electrical tape. It was all I had on hand.

Plus, Eldest has apparently done research on the school computers and has decided that this is exactly what we need next:

Why, one might rightly ask? Because their poo makes excellent garden fertilizer, apparently. And lord knows just what I need is more poo around this place.

Recessed lighting!
Before there was one lone
lightbulb hanging down..
Gotta love old houses.

On a related crap-tastic note, I ripped out the old hallway closet and made built-ins to organise the chaos. Which I'd show you a picture of, but my hallway is too damn narrow to back up enough to take a picture of the lovely tidiness.

However, this led to repainting the hallway in an effort to brighten it up, which led to me doing my first-ever electrical project. All on my own. With no help from anyone other than Google. But I was brilliantly (pun intended) successful!

Do anyone else's home improvement projects snowball like this?!





Outside the slowly-improving house, we're back in the 60/70s (F) and it's time for me to transplant the seedlings I started a few weeks ago with Eldest.

Seedlings last week. They're much bigger now, I promise!

Problem is, the damn -but otherwise adorable- chooks keep getting into the kitchen garden bed. And while I loved that they've turned it over and pooped in fertilized it all winter long, it's time for them to get out, and STAY out!

Attempt number 1: a screened in PVC pipe erector set type thing, which I am way too embarrassed to show, and is wholly unsuccessful. The winds that we're subject to here has torn that thing apart multiple times already, and it's only been up 2 days. I know a new chicken coop with an attached, enclosed run is in order before spring kicks into full gear, but financially that's got to wait a few more weeks. And keeping them in their current coop and run without allowing them to free-range just pisses them off and they quit laying eggs.

Not that pissing them off really matters to egg production, because....

Sweet, pointy pullet eggs.
They were so nice...
while they lasted.

2 out of 3 of the rescue hens just started laying a few weeks ago. I got a handful of sweet little pullet eggs out of them, and then they went... broody. I kid you not. The damn -but otherwise adorable- chooks are sitting in empty nesting boxes and refusing to effin' lay any eggs! Come on.... really???

As far as keeping the non egg laying, and soon to be my dinner if they keep this up chooks out of the kitchen garden, I think it's time to go back to the drawing board...

Any ideas, on either breaking the broody habit or fencing the garden in?

Stray Dog Saga, Part 2

So the stray dog from this eventful night has made a reappearance in my world.

A few days after that night, a friend emailed me to say there was a lost dog notice posted on Facebook, it looked like "my" dog I was waiting to bring home. Even though I didn't want to, I looked. Sure enough, it looked similar to the stray I'd found. Hoping against hope it wasn't the same one, I still contacted the owner and told her that I might have found her dog, and where it was.

But the dog was still at the shelter the next day when I went to check on her, and I was relieved that it wasn't the same lost dog. A few days later, after completing the required wait period for adoption, I picked up the wee ones from their schools and went to bring our new dog home with us. As we walked in to the shelter's reception lobby, the Animal Control officer at the reception desk looked up, his face long and sad.

"ADoC, I'm so sorry," he said, "but the owner showed up a half hour ago and she's taking the dog home with her."

The children's faces fell, their excited chatter quieted.

"What?" I stammered. It was unimaginable. I'd been into the shelter every day to play and sit with the dog, and we'd bonded. For her to not be coming home with me... well, I was devastated.

The officer motioned me over, and lowered his voice so the children couldn't hear. "It was the lost dog posted on Facebook, and the owner actually doesn't want the dog back, she and her husband had a huge argument about it. But the husband is still coming back to get the dog for his kids. Maybe you could talk to him and see if they'll give you the dog?"

I shook my head, collected the crying wee ones, and headed home. It was one thing if the dog was a stray, but she had a home and other children waiting for her. It is what it is, I said to myself, and life carried on.

Fast forward 6 weeks...

I took one of the boyfriend's children to the Animal Shelter yesterday to help her find a new pup. It was just to look and see what kind of dogs they had up for adoption, we weren't planning on actually getting a dog that day. They had bought a purebred pup before Christmas (for which I soundly took the boyfriend to task for supporting puppy mills and breeders instead of rescue centers) but the dog was dangerous around children and had to be given away. So dog-less again, his children had been begging for another one. Probably to save his ears from another lashing, he decided to let me find a puppy for them this time around, and that's how I found myself back at the animal shelter.

As I walked in, the officer's face broke into a huge grin.

"ADoC! Your dog is back! I'm so glad you're here, I couldn't find your number to call you!" he said excitedly.

Confused, I mentally checked that I'd locked the doors and all the gates at home. Certain my dogs were home safely napping in the afternoon sun, I figured he must have mistaken me for someone else.

"You brought her in one night, around Christmas," he said. "The owners didn't really want her back? She's here again! She's been here for over two weeks. I've been hoping you'd come back in."

Quickly, he opened the door to the kennels in the back and ushered us in. I completely forgot we were there to find a dog for someone else, so excited was I. Heart pounding, we made our way down the long row of dogs.

There, in the very last kennel, sat my dog. She'd been subjected to a very uneven shave, and was almost unrecognizable, except for her big brown eyes. Huddled in the corner, the only dog not barking at the sight of new people in their room, she looked up and saw me.

She came forward, pushing her nose against the bars separating us. She looked at me, I looked at her. And in that moment I knew...

I was taking the dog home with me this time.

She's 100lbs of a German Shepherd mix, 8 years old, and one huge bundle of love.

It was meant to be.

Supporting Your Local Businesses

The other day I was shopping at the only "big chain" grocery store in SmallTown, and saw the produce guy throwing piles of perfectly good, but not perfect greens in the trash can.

"What a waste," I thought, my eco-consumer shaking her head in disbelief. And then...

 
Chickens!!!

I asked him if I could take the scraps for the chickens and rabbit, but he wasn't keen on the idea. He grudgingly gave me a handful, and said that was the best he could do. I left, happy with the handful I got, and the chickens and rabbit were beyond happy with it when I tossed it to them.

The idea of free chicken feed still percolating in the back of my head, I was shopping at the local mom-n-pop grocer. While diversity of choice isn't there on the whole four aisles they have, the two clerks know me, ask about the kids (and chickens and dogs), and they have a fantastic butcher.

While in there this morning, I asked the produce boy if I could have his scraps. "Of course!" he said, "I used to give them to the ranchers for their pigs, but they stopped coming in."

This, this is what I got from the local grocer this morning for the chooks:

A dozen cukes and zukes, two full bags of random greens, bok choy, a couple heads of lettuce and chard, and some broccoli. All for free!

Perfect example of why it pays to shop your locally-owned businesses, even if they don't have the gazillion choices a chain store offers.

Happy, happy chooks. And I have a happy, happy wallet.