Traditional, Homemade Thanksgiving Dinner - Installment #7: Jello Salad

Last night I met with some ladies for a pre-holiday drink.  And a major topic of discussion was the upcoming Thanksgiving meal.  Turned out that all of us have mid-western roots.  My family comes from Ohio.  So we were all commiserating about the infamous casseroles and "salads" that have been passed down.

Lora's family boasts a "coke salad" which is jello made with coca-cola.  Sara's family does an ambrosia with maricino cherries, whip cream and pineapple chunks in jello.  We were musing about how jello became salad.  Maybe it goes back to WWII when it was harder to get fresh food?  Whatever the reason we all agreed that while the jello salads are strange, they are part of our Thanksgiving meals and secretly we love them?

My family's jello salad is a green jello with cottage cheese, condensed milk and, you guest it, pineapple chunks.  It comes from a woman named Rose Anderson who was a close friend of my Grandma's and a surrogate aunt to my mom and her sisters.  And we make it as part of Thanksgiving dinner ever year.

Since it's pretty easy to make, last year my daughter took over making this dish.  She helps with other things, like kneading the potato rolls, but the jello salad is all hers now.

Jello Salad
2 small packages lime jello
1 1/2 cup boiling water
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup pineapple juice
1 small container cottage cheese
1 small can drained, crushed pineapple
1/2 cup mayo
1 small can condensed milk

Mix jello, water, sugar and pineapple juice.  Allow to sit until just soft, but not set.  Mix in the remaining ingredients.  Chill in fridge until set.

You can make this up to two days ahead of Thanksgiving.  Keep it well covered in the fridge.

And So It Begins

It happened.  I didn't really expect it to happen for a few more years.  At least until she was in her early teens.  That's when it happened to me.  But Jordan has always been an early bloomer.

A month ago we went in to the doctor's for Jordan's well-child check up.  All was normal - normal for Jordan seeing as how she is 10 years old and 5' 2".  Then Dr. Bisguard asked Jordan what kinds of foods she liked.  Last year Jordan's response was "corn and hot dogs."  This year Jordan says, "Well, I'm a vegetarian."  Dr. Bisguard replied, "Really?" but her gaze shifted to me so clearly I was suppose to explain how this came about.

The only thing I could think of is that we butcher animals here on the farm.  Late last summer we butchered four turkeys and Jordan unfortunately saw some of the innards as I brought a baggie of giblets into the house for cleaning and packing.  After that experience Jordan decided not to eat any of the turkey on Thanksgiving.  I figured this episode has something to do with the vegetarian statement and proceeded to explain to the doctor.  Jordan nodded her head in agreement.

Dr. Bisguard asked if this meant all meat.  Jordan said no, that she still eats hot dogs (of course), sausage, anything that doesn't remind her of the grosser aspects of eating an animal - namely the blood and guts.

I get it.  I can't gut a fish and turn around and eat the meat.  I need a few days separation between the yucky part and the eating part.  But Jordan hasn't mastered the art of pushing icky thoughts from your brain.  And I suppose it doesn't help when Jeremy and talk about the former animal we are eating ... "So is this Sammy or Porky?"

Dr. Bisguard was quick to point out that meat has important nutrients that a growing body needs.  And if Jordan wasn't going to eat meat then she'd need to get those nutrients somewhere else.  She'd need iron, which comes from spinach (Jordan's not a huge fan).  And protein  which comes from nuts (good), tofu (not loving that) and beans (hates those).  But as Dr. Bisguard rattled these off, Jordan just nodded away like "No problem, I'll eat those things."

In the car I tried to explain, again, why we grow and butcher our own meat.  Why I won't purchase faceless, grown in barn, fed only corn, meat so she doesn't get grossed out thinking about us butchering in.  Jordan said she understood, but I was skeptical.  Until a few weeks later when Jordan was at her Grandma's house.  Grandma was serving steaks from the store.  Jordan refused to eat the steaks on the grounds that she didn't know how the cows were treated, if they were abused.  At least some of my moral stances are making a mark on her ;-).

The good news is that because we don't raise chicken on the farm - at least not friers, we do raise layers - she will eat that meat.  Luckily there is a produce market five minutes from home that sell chicken from a local farm with really good practices (e.g., true free ranging).  I can also get ground beef products past her.  I made Swedish Meatballs last weekend and she has requested those again this weekend.

I suspect this is just the beginning of Jordan walking in and making statements like "I'm a vegetarian now."  I remember distinctly my decision at 15 years old, "I'm not shaving my legs anymore."  This of course was in response to the oppressive male-dominated culture that expected women to be hairless (lol).  And my choice as a teenager to be a vegetarian - due to the horrible living conditions and torture of the animals we ate (I still ate any meat my dad hunted down himself).  As long as Jordan's proclamations aren't too crazy, we will support and adapt.  Maybe we'll both learn to like tofu ... I doubt it.

Frost

What do you do to prepare for the first frost of the season?  It always happens where there is still fruit on the vine, literally.  And it usually sneaks up on me.  Like today, I was driving home from work listening to the radio.  They did their 30 second weather and traffic update and said "low-lying areas can expect frost early tomorrow morning."  What?!  Already?!  I'm so not ready!

So, I came home and asked Farmer Jeb and Jordan to help me out in the garden.  Jordan picked all the tomatoes with any pink or orange tint.  Then we put large black garbage bags over the remaining plants.  Finally, we picked all the ripe green peppers.

Now the counter is covered in bowls of tomatoes and green peppers.  I'll leave the tomatoes to ripen and then put them in the freezer as they do.  Waiting until the day we have enough to make sauce.  The green peppers I'll chop and freeze.

Hoodriver Apple Festival

Every fall we take trip out to Hoodriver for the Heirloom Apple Festival. It's one of my favorite things visiting all the orchards, even if I have no reason to buy apples.

The first stop is always the Apple Valley Store. This old store not only has some of the best jams and jellies I've ever sampled, they make a pear pastry that is worth the drive. It's a whole pear, cored and wrapped in pie crust then baked. After the pear is soft and the crust golden, they drizzle it with a butter, cinnamon and sugar sauce. It's a meal all by itself, but since the store also has a killer BBQ with cabage/pear slaw, I leave stuffed. This year, my mom and I split the BBQ.

The next stop is Cody Farms. The farm is owned and operated by a group of women who are all on-hand slicing apples and pears for tasting. They also crush apples for fresh cider and give kids hay rides around the orchard. And as if I haven't had enough to eat, they have amazing pies-by-the-slice.

After Cody Farms we go to Rasmasson's. This is your classic fall farm completed with huge pumpkin patch and corn maze. They also have an amazing variety of apples. Spitzenburg, Winesap, Newton-Pippen, Arkansas Black - the best apples that you never see in the store. And as if I haven't had enough to eat, they have caramelled apples. I like to get the caramelled apple first and then head into the corn maze.

Finally it's up to Parker's Fruit Stand because they have the best cookies in the valley. Yep, that's right, I eat a cookie too. What a great way to end a great day touring orchards.

Life Gives you Lemons ... Make Rhubarb Jam

Last night Jordan started getting a head ache and the chills. She woke up are 4am with aches and pains everywhere and running a high fever. I made the executive decision to turn off our alarm clocks, give her a children's ibuprofen and hope we could sleep in a bit (no school for Jordan and no work for me). But that also means spending the day cooped up inside the house with a sick kiddo. I'm no good at being cooped up and unproductive.

What to do, what to do?

Finish my knitting project from last spring. I started knitting a blanket months ago - like 8 months ago. Knitting a blanket is a major undertaking and by the time warm summer weather arrived it was not finished. But I was finished, which knitting that is, until the cold rains were to return. I balled up the blanket and needles and stuffed them under the coffee table.

Guess what, the cold rains are back. At the first whiff of fall air, the first leaf turned yellow, my desire to knit goes into full swing. I pulled out the blanket, put my feet up and finished it! Now Jordan is curled up in the blanket trying to get healthy. But I would need another project.

After clean the bathrooms, which was good but not particularly rewarding, I took advantage of a break in the rain to investigate the garden. Strangest thing, the rhubarb is still producing. I had about 15 more stalks ready to cut. Time to make more jam. Now that is a rewarding afternoon activity! Guess what everyone is getting for Christmas? I'll give you a hint - it's not a knitted blanket.

On Vacation

This post is not about farming, other than to say what a wonderful farm-sitter we have (thank you Desiree!). This post is about where we went on vacation - Bead Lake, WA.

In 1980, when I was 4 years old, Mt. St. Helens erupted and sent a cloud of ash around the world. We were living in Spokane at the time and all I remember of that awesome event was in the middle of the afternoon the ash rained down and it became dark as night. For the next few days no one could go outside without a special mask to prevent ash from getting into your lungs. Imagine my poor parents with a 4 year old and 1 year old stuck in a suburban house, with no cable! When the ash finally cleared and we were allowed back outside, my parents decided we wouldn't stop at the front yard. Instead they grabbed a map and chose a location about 1 hour north of Spokane - Bead Lake.

There are at least a hundred lakes within a couple hours drive of Spokane, so I'm not sure how they decided on Bead Lake, other than it is pretty remote for being so close to a largish city. I don't remember anything from that particular trip, but the lake made an impression on my parents and, being that there wasn't any property on the lake for sale, they decided to purchase 10 acres and a small, rustic cabin just north of the lake. This became known as the "hunting cabin," because my dad hunted white tail deer from that base camp for the next dozen years. (Picture of the "hunting cabin", 20 years after it was sold to another family. It's now in significant disrepair.) From the hunting cabin we had ready access to Bead Lake.

A quick story about the hunting cabin, before I launch into the lake. My first independent outdoor adventure happened at the hunting cabin. One afternoon I headed out on my own, as I did frequently because I've never had much fear of anything. I must have been about 8 at the time. I crossed the marsh on our property and began to move through the brush and trees. After a few minutes I looked around and had no idea which way I came from or how to get out. I heard my Dad's advice in the back of my mind, "If you get lost, stay put. It's hard to find you if you are moving." So I chose a nice looking tree and sat down. Not much after I heard my Dad calling for me and followed his voice out. I still never pass up an opportunity to bush-whack my own trail.

Ok, back to Bead Lake. It is amazing. It's a glacier-formed lake with very steep, nearly unbuildable slopes around 80% of the shore. The edge where the glacier receded and dropped lots of rocky sediment is the edge with cabins (as seen the in picture, cabins along the right). The steep slope, and the fact that it's National Forest, means that the lake will never be over-built and most of the land will remain wild. Wild, as in deer, elk, cougar, bear, turkey and the return of wolves, yes wolves! The lack of cabins and septic systems also means the water in the lake is very clean, drinkable, although my mom won't and would never let us kids drink it. The water is also clear - on a bad day you can see down about 15 feet; on a good day at least 30 ft. Add to that amazing fishing for Kokanee (landlocked salmon), Lingcod (landlocked cod) and Mackinaw, and this lake is a destination for all kinds of outdoors people.

When I was 4 to 9 years old, the weekend ritual was to hitch up the boat, drive up the hunting cabin on Friday night, stopping at the spring for water (no running water or electricity at the hunting cabin) and make dinner on a camp stove. The next morning we would get up early and head to Crystal Shores, Bead Lake's then boat launch, convenience store and campsite. We would try to get there before the crowds so that we could jet across to the beach - actually just a flat spot with small, well weather rocks - and set up before anyone else could get to that one non-steep location. We nearly always won the race and so we dubbed it "Correll Beach". My memories of days on the beach are as thick as the mosquitoes got in the evening. Learning to skip rocks (a skill I'm still trying to master), trying to catch fish in a plastic bucket, finding crawdads under sunken logs.

Then there was the day I got heat exhaustion. Needless to say, it was a hot day and the beach as south facing, getting a full day of sunshine. I was busy being a kid and refusing to stop to lotion-up or eat or drink. In the afternoon it hit hard, like a flu bug. I was burning up. My parents took the canvas top off the boat and made an umbrella of sorts for me to lay under. The only liquid we had left, other than the lake, was pineapple juice. I downed nearly a gallon (or so it seemed). By the time we got back to the hunting cabin and cool of the forest, I was well again.

Another significant memory was learning to water ski. My dad took two kids skies and screwed them together with wood so it was like skiing on one wide plank. I learned by floating in the water just off Correll Beach, holding the rope and my mom holding me by the back of my life jacket. Dad would slowly speed up until my mom let go and I stood up. I think I was 8 years old, but that's fuzzier in my memory than the feeling of the first time I got up and went around the lake.

For years my parents watched for cabins to be put up for sale around the lake. Not much was available. Many people keep cabins in the family. There are names, like Mead and Andrews, that go back more than 50 years. Finally, when I was 9 years old, the lake cabin, as it would come to be called, came up for sale. It was old and the stairs and deck were falling apart. The whole thing was leaning slightly. But it had a lot of waterfront and the price was good. My parents made their move. (Picture is of the lake cabin today, many repairs and a new second/lower floor later.)

When I was about 12 or 13, the operator of Crystal Shores, Pete, died of a heart attack. I had known Pete my whole life, it seemed. He ran the little convenience store with candy that my brother and I would purchase - usually year-old gummy worms. Loosing Petet put an end to Crystal Shores, which was divided and sold to three families, who all built huge cabins. These were the first really big, really nice, new cabins on the lake. This event marked a change. Since then property values have gone up steadily, so have taxes. One by one, the older smaller cabins are being tore down and new, mammoth cabins built.

Today there is a little public boat launch, run by the forest service, at the far east end of the lake. The launch has no dock and is only used by fishermen or kayakers. Correll Beach is still there, but we seldom see anyone at it. The people we bought the lake cabin from, now own the one next door to us. (We sold the hunting cabin 20 years ago.) There is a trail and two campsite that people frequently hike to. But the lake remains the same beautiful, clean, wild place it ever was. My parents are able to visit it often, but Jeremy, Jordan and I only get there once a year for a week long vacation. Still every time I smell the air the feeling of childhood comes over me and I smile. And now Jordan is getting to experience all the same places and activities I did - literally retracing my footsteps, hopefully not the heat exhaustion step though.

Alley the Huntress

I have a split personality when it comes to rabbits. (Dr. Jeckle) On one side, I think bunnies are cute and cuddly and I don't want them to be hurt. (Mr. Hyde) On the other side, if a rabbit is in the garden and nibbling on my veggies then there's trouble. Jeremy has chucked a full soda off the back deck at a rabbit. He missed, but I was honestly hoping he would hit it. I would shoot a repeat offender if the animal was munching a lot of hard worked for food.

Sunday afternoon we were just finishing up weeding the garden, thinning the beet starts, harvesting strawberries and constructing an arbor over the blueberries, when we heard an odd screaming sound coming from the creek bed. Alley emerged with a baby bunny in her mouth. The poor bunny was terrified. Alley was so proud. She strutted into the middle of the garden to gain our compliments, then release the bunny. (I did congratulate her.) The bunny shot back down into the creek bed and cover of shrubs. Alley followed and came out a few seconds later with the bunny. This time she brought the bunny up to me and drop it about 4 feet away. It charged me. I squealed like a 3 years girl, jumped/failed to avoid stepping on the bunny or Alley. Alley grabbed it again. This time she headed up stairs, presumably to go Jordan, who was out front, her conquest. I got there first.

I warned Jordan that Alley had caught a little bunny. Jordan said "Really?!" and took off to find them. I went inside to start prepping dinner, figuring at least it's one last bunny to assault my garden. About 5 minutes later Jordan opened the front door and said "Mom, get a box - I've got the bunny." Sure enough, Jordan was holding the bunny, which was still alive, not even bleeding. I have no idea how she got it away from Alley. Jordan put it in the box and took the bunny up "far away" (to our neighbor's house) to let it go. Of course, she had to stop to show Ryan her catch.

Lamb #2

Jeremy and I love our back deck - we can't get enough just standing out there an looking. Sun, rain, snow, day time or night time, we are out there. Last night before we went to bed, midnight-ish, we went out on the deck to look at the stars. There was a lot of bahhing coming from the barn, which unusual for the middle of the night. I went down to investigate.

As I opened the barn door I saw Notag down on her side, panting hard. All I could see of the lamb was one front arm and the head. I had instant flashback from last year, when one of the lambs got her leg caught back in the birth canal. And although we intervened to get her out, she died. So I jumped right in with Notag and felt around for the second leg. It was out too. Whew! Then there was nothing left to do but wait and encourage Notag to push. Not that she understood my words.

Jeremy was moving Jordan from our bed to her's. She had elected to fall asleep in our room. He heard me cheering Notag on and headed down. Just as he arrived to the barn Notag gave her last push and the lamb was out. We stayed down for about an hour watching Notag clean him, yes it's a boy, and to make sure he nursed, which he did vigorously. Then we went to bed it was 1:45am.

This morning Jordan and I went down to check on everyone and take some pictures. Both lambs - Spot, Lilly's girl, and Bo, Notag's boy - are doing great.

Morning Surprise

I blame it on the rain. Ever since we started raising sheep and had our first birth in the rain, which resulted in two deaths, we have pushed back breeding later and later in the season with the hopes of lambs being born on the green pasture in the warm sun. And every year, no matter how late we push breeding, the lambs are born in the rain. This year is no exception.

Usually by late June / early July the rain has tapered off and the temperatures are consistently above 70 F. We timed putting Junior with the ladies with the hopes of having 4th of July babies. But this spring has been really wet and cold. Sure, there have been a days with sun and warm temperatures, but those are few and far between. A couple of days ago the rain returned along with temperatures down into the 60's. So naturally, as Jordan and I went about our normal morning feeding, sitting under the big fir tree was Lilly and her lamb.

I'm so proud of Lilly to choose going under the fir tree, where it is always dry even in downpours, to give birth! The birth must have happened in the wee-hours of the morning, but both were looking really good. I hollered to Jordan to go get Daddy (Jeremy had been out of town and arrived home at 1:30am, so he was sleeping in). They came back down together and started to the prep the barn so we could move mom and baby under cover. I was already in the pasture, checking things out (in my work heels of course).

I picked up the lamb and, hunched over so that Lilly could keep her eyes on her baby, walked backwards through the pasture, out of the gate, down the driveway and into the barn. It is a miracle that I didn't trip and send the lamb flying. Once inside Lilly got oats and alfalfa and water. The lamb got a thorough once-over and a trimmed and dipped in iodine umbilical cord. Jordan helped with the lamb and was amazed that iodine actually stains your fingers. Then we decided that we should move Notag into the barn since the rain isn't going to let up and Notag is just days from giving birth too.

By this time Jordan was late for camp and I was late to work. We hopped in the car and took off. When I got to work I realized my shoes were covered in dirt, grass and poop. I got great looks from coworkers in the bathroom as I scrubbed. That's when I noticed two of my fingers were stained orange too.

Pick a Peck

I was standing on the back deck, waiting for the BBQ to heat up and enjoying the scenery. The garden is finally showing green shoots. Two hummingbirds were flitting around the rhododendrons. And to make it better, I was sipping a nice Merlot. And then I saw it - chickens headed for the garden.

Typically the chickens are prevented from getting to the garden by a huge gate we keep closed during the day. The chickens have plenty of yummy food in the orchard and along the stream. Tonight Jordan and I went down to feed the animals, which requires opening the huge gate. It was earlier than normal because we had my sister-in-law coming over for dinner. I opened the gate and Jordan warned me "The chickens will get out." I said "No, they'll go into the run when you throw scratch in." Guess what - scratch means nothing when you have untapped fresh grass and associated bugs to munch on. The chickens ran out and headed up the driveway.

Up the driveway is the official yard part of our property. It's the manicured, landscaped, typical euro-yard. That is a great place for the chickens. They can't do much harm in the yard. Sneaky buggers went all around the yard and then down to the garden.

All those tender little veggie starts. Peas, carrots, beats, corn. All about a month too late because of the crappy weather. I freaked and ran into the house. "Jordan, grab your flipflops! The chickens are in the garden!" And out the door I ran. Sprinted down the stairs with Jordan close behind, trying to slip her flipflops on while running. I grabbed Pearl and we started to herd.

People talk about how hard it is to "herd cats". Try to herd chickens sometime. We were both hunched over waving are arms, saying "Shoo! Go on! Get out of the garden!" Then "Jordan, George! Get George! Now Henrietta! I got Speckles!" Finally we got them back behind and shut the huge gate. Garden safe again, we walk back up to the house and went back to getting ready for dinner guests.

Old Time Recipes

It is amazing the wealth of new, exciting information I come across daily. I'm literally bombarded with information. From news papers to blog updates to the new Time Magazine app for my smart phone. One of my favorite topics to pepper my brain with is food. Food in all forms - growing it, shopping for it (is there a farmer's market between my office and my home) and of course cooking it. I read cooking magazines like other people read novels. I have a book case devoted to food.

I blame my mom for this. Growing up, she was always clipping recipes from Sunset or Better Homes and Gardens and trying new dishes on us. She was, and still is, a superb cook. But the other day she said to me "You know, I have recipes older than you that I never tried." Better get cooking!

Tonight Jordan and I were sitting at Burgerville enjoying some fast food. (Yep, even a devote cook-your-own meals person like me has to hit the burger joint every once in a while.) Next to us was a man with his three daughters talking to an older, grandmotherly-looking, woman that seemed to be of no relation. Naturally I listened in on their conversation. They were talking gardening and the seeds that the man's girls had planted in the garden. The youngest, who was about 5, said that she planted the squash. The woman asked if they were pumpkin seeds. The girls said no, zucchini. The women turned to the man and ask if he'd every eaten the blossoms. He replied "My grandma use to fry them up for us. She dipped them in some batter and just fry them right up. It was so good. I wish I had that recipe."

This got me thinking about all the recipes that my grandma and great grandma made back in the day, before Food Network. A few of their recipes have been handed down to me. My Grandma Charlotte's potato rolls and my Great Grandma Vashi's candied yams, which are a must for Thanksgiving dinner. But there are those dishes that we talk about and always end with "I wish I had that recipe." Like pickled watermelon rinds. Not a summer goes by my parents don't reminisce about pickled watermelon on a hot afternoon, yet no one has the recipe. (Picture - Four generations: Grandma Charlotte, me, my Mom and Jordan)

I've decided that this summer's mission, should I chose to follow through, will be to hunt down old-time recipes. Primarily, those that my family use to make, but also from other families. I'm sure it won't take much to get my friends talking about what their mom, grandma, great grandma use to make for them. To start me off, here is a recipe for fried squash blossoms. As soon as my zucchini start blossoming, I'm going to make these and let you know how they turn out.

Fried Squash Blossoms

1 dozen squash blossoms

Vegetable oil

2/3 cup flour

1/2 c water

1/2 c milk

salt, mint, dill or other herbs

Directions

Wash blossoms in cold water and gently pat dry. Trim, leaving about 1 inch of stem on each. Fill a frying pan with oil to 3/4 inch deep and place over medium heat. Whisk together flour, water and milk until it is the consistency of sour cream - adjust flour or water if need. Dip a blossom into the batter and carefully place in hot oil. (Suggestion - wear gloves because the oil will splatter.) Turn blossom when golden brown. Work with as many as you can, turning until each is brown on all sides. Lay on a paper towel to drain. Sprinkle with salt and other seasonings.

Missing Chicken

This morning we drove down to the barn to conduct our normal morning chores. I fed the sheep oats while Jordan tossed scratch to the chickens and pigs (yes, the pigs like chicken scratch). Then Jordan opened up the chicken run to let them out and I counted, as I always do to make sure that we are starting out the day with the correct number of animals. But this morning I only counted seven chickens - one was missing. And worse, upon closer examination, it was Pearl!

Pearl is the nicest chicken of all time. She follows us around and likes to be pet and held. She is the perfect animal to introduce "city kids" to farm animals.

A coyote or opossum better not have eaten my Pearl!

Sometimes a chicken will get broody and decide not to leave the nest boxes, so that was my first check and no one was in there. Next I checked to see if Pearl was being lazy and sleeping in. Nope, the coop was completely empty. Jordan and I looked around for signs of a struggle. Nothing. Last I decided to try the barn. The chickens like to go in there and scratch around the hay bails. As I opened the barn door Pearl can walking out.

She looked like she didn't get any sleep. Sort of ragged and blurry-eyed. Kind of pale, if that's possible. She chirped a quiet "thanks" as she made her way back to the run, right up the ramp and into the coop. I can only imagine that she flopped down on the roost the way I do on my bed when coming home after a late night of wine and friends.

What probably happened was that when Jeremy opened the barn the night before to get alfalfa for the sheep, the chickens went in. He always shoos them back out, but it would be easy enough for one to be behind the tractor or stack of pallets and not be seen. He must have closed the door with Pearl still inside pecking away.

This evening Pearl is back with the group and looking much more rested. Since we have a farm-sitter coming for the long weekend, we'll have to double-triple check that no one gets locked in the barn before we leave.

Granola Bars

It takes so much time to make food from scratch. I mean, a whole lotta time! Between work, swim class, homework and family time, when exactly are we to cook? It's really no surprise that no one takes the time to make things like crackers that you can just pick up at the store. There are so many options for convenience food to choose from - flavors, textures, colors. However, I do choose to make some things, like bread, from scratch.

Jordan is a huge fan of granola bars. She eats 2-3 a day. At that rate, I want to make sure she's not eating a candy bar disguised as something "healthy". By disguised, I mean when the box says "Multi-Grain", or something like that, and the bar is coated in chocolate. So, when my Mom brought over a recipe from Sunset Magazine for no-bake granola bars, I was delighted. Jordan and I made some the next day - WOW, so good and easy!

No-Bake Granola Bars

Servings = 12 bars

Ingredients

1/3 c roasted, unsalted almonds

1/3 c roasted, unsalted sunflower seeds

2 c rolled oats

1 c chopped dates

1/2 t cinnamon

dash salt

1/2 c raisins, currants, dried cranberries or any other dried fruit

2/3 c honey

Directions

In a food processor, pulse the nuts and seeds until broken up. In a large bowl, mix nuts, seeds, oats, dates, cinnamon, salt and dried fruit. Heat honey in the microwave for 30 seconds. Pour honey over oats and mix. Cover a cookie sheet with parchment paper or foil. Dampen your fingers with water. Scoop oat mixture onto cookie sheet. Press into an 8 by 12 inch rectangle, dampening your fingers if the mix starts to stick. Put in freezer for 20 minutes. Cut into 12 bars. Individually wrap with plastic wrap. Store in fridge for up to 2 weeks.

Notes: You can substitute any roasted, unsalted nuts and seeds. Try pecans and pumpkin seeds.

Oh What a Relief It Is

George, our hen, has been escaping every day. When we open the gate to the run, all the hens head out. George runs down to the orchard, which is where the gap in the fence is (or I should say, where the gaps in the fence are). Problem is that once she is out, she can’t figure how to get back in and therefore can’t get back to the coop where the nest boxes are.

Tonight Jordan and Jeremy went down to do the night time chores. Naturally, George was out, presumably for most of the day. They let her back in, via the driveway gate, and she made a bee-line for the run. She went right into the coop. Jordan was gathering eggs and George was sitting on them. As Jordan reached in to get the eggs, George pecked her so hard she left a blood blister. Then George ran out of the coop. Next she did this strange chicken-dance - prancing about with wings raised a bit and feathers on the back of her neck standing up. She headed back up the ramp to the coop and an egg popped right out of her - bloop. She couldn’t even hold it to the nest box. Must have been a huge relief to get that out. The egg broke as it rolled down the ramp.

Pigs Like Carrots

You may think, well duh! Don't pigs like everything?! They are walking garbage disposals, aren't they? Actually, the first couple of pigs we raised not only weren't big fans of carrots, they actually hated the carrots enough to leave the peelings behind in the slop trough.

Those first two pigs were named Porky and Sammy. They were great animals. Friendly and funny and energetic. Porky and Sammy loved pastries and melon rinds. My mom would save melon rinds in the freezers all week long to have treats to bring the pigs on Sunday. I would visit the "day old" bread shelf at the store and bring home cinnamon raisin bagels ($1 per 1/2 doz). Porky and Sammy would get down right giddy at the sight of me or my mom coming toward the pole barn.

Our new pigs are named ... Porky and Sammy 2. Very original, I know. We decided that Porky 2 is the boy because he is bigger. He is also brave and friendly. Sammy is a girl, smaller and pretty leery of us still. I'm hoping she'll come around. They are only 3 months old, so we aren't slopping them yet. We probably could, but I'm worried the rich foods would make their tummies upset. But Jordan wanted to start feeding them stuff other than the pig feed. I suggested she bring down a few baby carrots to try.

Porky 2 and Sammy 2 don't know their stall and run that well yet. They are smart though. The feed system is a metal container that they have to lift with a nose to get at the food. They had that figured out in about 5 minutes. They also found the water fountain. But the trough, thus far, has just been something to climb on. When Jordan put a few baby carrots in it they didn't react much. Then Porky, being braver, came over to check things out. One bite and he knew - this is a good, good thing! The snorting began and the baby carrots disappeared quickly. Sammy was slow to catch on and only managed to get a few carrots before they were all gone.

The next night when we came down, they ran over to the trough - smart little piggies. Jordan put in more carrots. Those were gone in seconds. (I must note that pigs wag their tails when happy and those tails were a-waggin'). Tonight I had left over pineapple upside-down cake from last weekend's in-law Easter party. I have no idea if pigs can eat pineapple. I know that tomatoes make them sick, so maybe pineapple, being very acidic, may not be OK. I tossed the pineapples to the chickens (who really are garbage disposals) and gave the remaining cake to the pigs. The reaction was priceless.

Both got completely in the trough to get a better angle on the cake. Snort, snort, snort - tails going crazy. As the cake disappeared, Porky 2 started to throw his weight around and push Sammy 2 out of the way. In less than 5 minutes the leftover cake was gone. They actually licked the trough. Too cute.

The video below is not of the cake-eating (I wish I had taped it, but didn't think to bring the camera down.) In the video my dad is off camera whistling at the pigs. Porky 2 is keenly interested in the whistling.

Extra Chicken

We share our driveway with two other houses. It's not as strange as it sounds. The driveway is pretty long and then forks into three private drives leading to the respective houses. One of the houses is owned by Eric and Lola. They've been out here for at least 30 years. And they are the kind of neighbors you hope to get when you buy a place out in the country. The first week we were here our water line busted and Eric helped fix it at 10pm in the driving rain. They always watch our animals if we go away on the weekend. And they make some of the best homemade wine.

When we first moved in, Lola was keeping Araucana chickens. Jordan was 2 1/2 at the time and Lola invited her over to gather some eggs. Araucana's lay eggs with blue shells - very pretty. Jordan got so excited about the eggs that she dropped one. She started to cry until Lola handed her another and said "don't worry, there are lots more where that came from." But after a few years the chore of chickens was getting to be a pain for Lola and she got rid of the chickens. This was about the same time we bought ours (not Araucanas - we have Buff Orpintons and Light Brahmas).

Now that I've had chickens I truly couldn't imagine not having them. They are so fun. Really. They are. They come a-runnin' when they see me, hoping to get some kitchen scraps. They follow me around while I do chores, talking to me the whole time. And they produce food! So it didn't surprise me that Lola only lasted two years without chickens. She bought a group of mix-breed layers last fall. Seven total.

Last night the phone ran. Lola said "This is going to sound strange, but do you have an extra chicken?" She went on to explain that one came up missing the other day. She and Eric looked around for signs of it being eaten by a coyote, but there was nothing. Since our chickens roam about, she thought that perhaps one of her's got out of its run and joined up with ours. Jordan ran down to check and we still just have eight. I hope there isn't a chicken robber out there! I happen to like all my chickens and don't want to loose any.

In Like a Lion

Rainy Sunday. After doing some laundry, I grabbed my knitting and sat down to enjoy a movie. Since Jordan and Ryan, her friend from next door, were playing in the other room I chose Lord of the Rings - kids-safe but adult worthy. No sooner had I turned on the TV when the power went out. Nice!

Jordan and Ryan came running in, "The power's out! The power's out!" (Just in case I hadn't noticed.) Jeremy said "Why don't you two run over to Ryan's house and see if the power is out there too." They started getting their shoes and coats on. Then we heard the wind howl. Eerie how wind gusting through Doug fir trees makes a low howling sound. Since we are surrounded by trees, the sound comes before the strength of the gust. Seconds after the howl, branches were thumping the roof and the shrubs outside the window were shifting and swaying. "On second thought, why don't you kids just stay here for a bit."

The clouds opened up and released on us. Another gust pushed the trees around. They were making large stationary circles, one direction then the next. Rain was coming off the roof in steady streams; it flew sideways and back under the eves. I grabbed my camera and took some video.

The intense part of the storm only last about 10 minutes. And compared to storms in the Midwest or near the gulf, this lion was more like a kitten. I'll take it though - I miss good storms. After a bit the wind quieted and stopped. The rain went back to normal Pacific Northwest gray drizzle. But the power stayed out.

It was only about 4pm and plenty light outside, but Jordan and Ryan wanted to get out all the flashlights just-in-case. Jordan chose a blue one and Ryan a red, both with straps to wear around their wrist. Next Jordan said "Oh, we should play a game." She ran off and came back with Memory and Monopoly - we played both with the completely unnecessary flashlights. Funny how board games seem much more fun without power. Under normal, illuminated circumstances, if I suggested Monopoly I'd get a roll of the eyes and a suggestion of Wii instead.

By 5:30 the power was still out and it was getting too late to cook the pork chops and asparagus I was planning on. (Also, I had managed to turn the kitchen light on and off at least a dozen times, each time chuckling at what a creature of habit I am.) So we loaded into the car and headed to town for some delicious Mexican food. On the drive in we saw three different PGE trucks and workers busily removing branches. In one instance two trees had fallen across power lines on both sides of the street. I started to wonder if we'd have power before bed. Thankfully, as we came back home porch lights were back on. When we got home we went around resetting the clocks, which I had just set this morning for day light savings time.

The New Girl

When we first moved to the farm we knew we wanted to raise animals. At first we thought goats would be perfect. They are small, easy to manage, we could do milk or meat breeds and they eat anything. Anything is correct, including the bark right off a tree. I learned, through talking to a rancher at the Clark County Fair, that goats prefer Doug fir bark to grass and will girdle our trees. Since we have many beautiful Doug firs that we would like to keep, we decided goats weren't the right animal. The next in line were sheep.

Our current sheep are a mix of Sufolk, Tunis and Katahdin. The mix is great because, like dogs and cats, mixed breeds are less susceptible to diseases. But I have wanted to start raising full-bred sheep primarily because they full-breeds get top dollar but also if Jordan decides to do 4-H she can show our animals. So today we purchased our first full-bred Sufolk to add to the farm. She is beautiful - black face and legs, thick white wool, except that with all the rain she is gray with dirt. She is 3 years old and proven, which means that she has lamb successfully.

The place we got her from was a tiny hobby farm in Cascade Locks, which is about 1 hour from our place. We don't have a trailer to transport animals. We have a huge cage, like you'd use to move a big, big dog. The sheep just barely fit inside and refused to sit down, so she kept loosing her balance as we drove around corners. Jeremy was afraid the whole cage would give under she shifting weight (approx. 150 lbs). Consequently, we had to drive about 10 miles under the speed limit. Long lines of cars kept getting stuck behind us because Highway 14 is a single-lane, extremely curvy stretch of road. At one point, an impatient idiot decided he couldn't take it anymore and spread around us causing momentary panic but avoided any collisions.

The last leg of the trip was up 164th, which is a main thoroughfare in eat Vancouver. We got many confused stares and finger pointing from passangers in other cars and people walking on the sidewalk.

The topic of conversation on the drive was what we should name our new addition. Jordan's first thought was "Oreo" due to her black-and-white look. But after mulling it over, Jordan announced "I don't like that name." I said "Well, what would fit with Notag, Lilly and Junior?" "It needs to start with an F," was her response. Jeremy said "How about Francis?" "Yeah!" So, Francis it is.

We moved Junior over to Eric's pasture and let Francis loose on Junior's. We figured that would give her some time to get use to the surroundings before Junior starts harassing her. About a week should do it. That will also give Francis time to come into heat. Sheep go into heat when they are with a ram, maybe it's the lovely ram-musky that sets them off. Junior and Francis can sniff each other through the fence. The week will also give us time to appraise Francis. I gave her a shot of dewormer, but you never know what an animal might have brought in from another farm.

Next weekend Junior will be a happy boy again with a new friend.

Working Shelf

The primary criteria I use when choosing seed varieties is how quickly we will be able to harvest the fruit. Here in the Pacific Northwest, just two hours inland from the ocean, we have a rather short growing season. Couple that with the fact that our house is only 20 miles north of the Columbia River and at roughly 600 ft elevation, the result is we have a hard time grown anything that takes more than 70 days to mature.

Take melons for instance. I really, really want to have fresh picked melons from my garden. But the ground doesn't warm up enough until May to sow melon seeds and the days get too short too soon the in fall to ripen fruit that set in June. Two years ago we put starts the ground on Mother's Day when the soil was warm, but the fruit got no larger than a golf ball. Last year we tried starting the seeds under a cold frame in late March, but they never sprouted. This year we're starting the seeds inside on my new shelf. I'll keep the room temperature above 65 F all the time and there is lots of light from the floor to ceiling windows. Crossed fingers.

Other plants we started today and put on the shelf included Brussels sprouts, acorn squash and butternut squash - all of which require 80-100 days to harvest.

Jordan helped me plant. She was excited at first, wanting to be part of the garden experience. I started filling the pots and asked her to pack the soil down. But the potting soil was too "sticky". Next I made holes, Jordan put the seeds in each hole and started covering them up. But the soil was too "poky". So I had her write the plant names on pop-sickle sticks and place in each row. That turned out to be the perfect task. She wrote each in a different handwriting - block letters, cursive, curly q's.

Now we just water, watch and wait.

New Shelf

Today I put up a shelf in my daughter's playroom upon which I intend to start plants for the garden.

The playroom has floor to ceiling windows on the east and south facing walls. There is actually more square feet of window than wall. Lots of great light! When we moved in 5 years ago, I knew that room would be the playroom but I imagined when Jordan grew up and didn't need a playroom, I would turn it into "greenhouse" of sorts. Jordan still uses the room, but I figure one shelf won't disrupt her enjoyment.

I also didn't want to affect Jeremy's schedule. He has a long list of chores to do this winter - shelves in the barn (which he finished today), patching the hole in the ceiling where he had to cut in to find and stop a water leak, fixing the leak under the sink and the list goes on. So, I did the shelf myself. While it doesn't seem like a huge project, I always feel proud when I successfully complete a project that requires me to use a power drill! After a trip to Lowe's and about an hour of measuring, leveling and screwing, I put up a very secure, completely level 6 foot long shelf.

It won't be time to start seeds for another month but I had to test the shelf, so I moved three potted herbs (curry, oregano and sage) into the playroom/greenhouse :-)