Years ago I made a request to a German teacher who was a regular customer at my bakery, that when she went on her next trip to Germany to please bring me back a bread cookbook or two and I’d pay her for them. The ones she brought were in German, as I had hoped, and had some great pictures too!
Now, I don’t speak German. That was the language class I took for a few semesters in high school. In hindsight I should have taken Spanish. The only phrases I remember are “I don’t know” and “I have no money”. Really useful phrases (insert eye-roll), not something like “where do I find great food?” or “two beers please” (my best Spanish phrase at the moment). Nope. I won’t be traveling to Germany any time soon the way it sounds.
The recipes look wonderful, or the pictures do at least. I started roughly translating a few that I wanted to try first shortly after receiving the books. Well, I received a request for a sunflower seed bread and wouldn’t ya’ know there’s a recipe for that in both cookbooks!
Sometimes I question my sanity.
I’ve been wanting to be able to offer Farm T’s but haven’t been able to figure out the best was to go about it.
For the first try I’ve set it up as a fundraiser through Custom Ink.
All proceeds will be put into the savings account of a second kitchen on the farm that will have a
Sole Purpose of Baking, Canning and Teaching Classes!
Get yourself a T and share the link with a friend!
It’s that time of year when we say goodbye to the steers and they take a ride to the butcher shop. The last few times we’ve had at least three people to help load the cows and it (knock-on-wood) goes really well. Even the loading of Wheezy went without a problem. I was excepting to not have too much trouble that night either.
Hindsight is 20/20, so it’s said. That being understood, I should have let Caroline out of the barn that morning. Instead, I let her out that evening, when the trailer was backed up to the loading door, which was open. A cattle panel (wire fence panel) was loosely leaning as a guide for the boys to get to the trailer. When the barn door opened for her to go outside she went running. There was shit flying as she was kicking up her heals like she was training for a PBR. Her excitement got the boys excited and they joined in.
I don’t usually have the kids to daycare early enough in the morning to have breakfast but this particular morning we were planning to be there early. According to the schedule we received in the beginning breakfast is as 8:00 which means I try to have everyone there be at least ten to-.
We were doing great. We were right on track to get there on time. I told the older three to get their shoes on and get buckled while I got the baby in the carrier. It’s nothing new, they do it every morning. Then back came the little boy, “mama, there’s a cow in the yard!”
A quick silent prayer “Oh dear Lord, please let it be the neighbor’s cow.” We’ve never had any visiting cows wander through but it would have been fine with me this morning. I would have waved at it and left on time.
It’s been five years since we first moved to the farm. A lot has changed since we arrived. You may recall, I had cows coming home and no fence to keep them in about the same time I had chickens ordered and no coop. Yep, that happened. (It seems to be a recurring theme for me and started long before the farm.) Mike and my dad were there to save the day once again!
One rainy night that first summer Mike and my dad went up to Grandma’s farm to pick up some old fence posts and barb wire that she said was in the back of the barn. When they were heading back my husband called and said “Boy do we have a surprise for you!”
After I got home from work we walked through the dark and rolling thunder to our barn. There against the wall was an old gate. He didn’t have to say a word. I knew exactly where that gate came from. I was so excited to be able to use it!
The gate was blackened with years of motor oil that had been painted on for weather proofing. I remember being allowed to swing on Grandma’s garden gate but we weren’t to touch the corral gate because the oil would ruin our clothes. By that time the animals were gone as far as I can remember. When the fence line was finally taken down nothing went to waste and the gate, still in good shape, was stored in the barn.
The old gate has been keeping the cows in our pasture and now it’s my turn to paint the gate.
I put the little Miss in some old clothes and we set out to the barn. She carried the paint brushes while I carried the jug of used oil. She was pretty excited to be able to help with a “big girl” job. I filled us each a small container of oil and gave her a warning “do not get any on your clothes.” –you can laugh its ok. I knew as well that was going to be a joke. There was no way that she was going to make it more than one brush stroke before it would be on her clothes. But, in trying to be a good mama I needed to at least say the words.
She worked at her eye-level for a while, then over by me and then it happened.