We learned an interesting thing about beef calves here on Home Farm this week. Apparently they enjoy partaking in a bit of electric fencing wire now and again. Once more I deeply appreciate the Internet - as OtherHalf was driven to a frenzy of research to find out if the calves were now doomed. Sure enough, it's not unheard of for animals to start nibbling away on fencing wire that's not live, and they will eat it right up eventually. In fact, these steers of ours will happily eat pretty much any kind of strange garbage, metal, string, whatever they can get hold of, really. Some of it will be regurgitated and rechewed until it gradually "passes away", but some of it could cause damage to their health. It's important to keep their fences in working order so they're kept in a safe environment... protecting them from their stupid selves.
Actually, we've seen quite a number of Great Escapes around here the last little while. I got to thinking about it yesterday, after our pastor brought up fencing in his sermon. He was talking about how God gives us "fences" for our lives; Biblical principles and guidelines that, when followed, keep us in the safe place of God's will for our lives. But just like the critters on our farm, people want to push the boundaries, get to the "greener" pastures, and we've got all kinds of ways of doing that.
Take The Twins for example. This summer a neighbor rented our pasture for some of his cattle. One cow had a pair of twins which were considerably smaller than the other new calves. These two became typical "fence crawlers" - they had no regard whatsoever for the barbed wire and one never knew where they'd be. Because of their habit of crawling through the fencing, they missed out on a lot of their mother's milk, they were unprotected from predators, and they could even wander out to the road into traffic. It didn't matter how many times we chased them back in, they never learned to stay in their proper pasture. Nobody wants fence crawlers on a farm.
My darling Willow has been pretty good about respecting her fence. She's in a new, unfinished paddock - only two strands of wire high on the posts. We also ran a strand of electric wire as an extra precaution, and she obviously knew to stay away from it - she wouldn't even accept a treat held over the fence! As the cold weather set in, however, the solar charger for the fence stopped charging, and eventually the wire went dead. We have the big round bales for feeding just outside Willow's pen, and there she stands day after day, facing the temptation of those huge lovely piles of food. One day she tested her fence, realized it wasn't painful to push it anymore - and succumbed. We found her head deep in a bale, a section of her fence looking like a bulldozer just plowed right through. But besides the dangers of walking through splinters of wood and tangles of wire, Willow is a type of horse that can easily suffer permanent health damage from overeating. Thankfully we had her back in her pen quickly and the fence repaired, and she seems to have learned her lesson.
Not like Banner, however. He's a horse-on-loan, a great huge beast, always hungry. He never out-and-out challenges the fence; he's a stretcher. Day after day he leans on the boards or the wire, slowly pushing against the boundaries, gradually stretching things further and further until he can reach far out of his rightful place. Sometimes the top board would snap in half, and he'd proceed to lean his barrel chest on the next board down. He learned that this type of escaping often goes overlooked, since he appeared to be where he was supposed to be - but he was still able to get what he wanted.
Sometimes an escapee isn't happy unless they take a crowd with them. Just a couple of weeks ago our handful of horses had walked across the frozen dugout, out of their winter forage pasture and into a mess of brush and deadfall along the creek that separates us from our neighbors. We'd hoped that they'd get hungry enough to come home for feed, but they seemed content to stay in "no man's land" for the long haul. The kids took out a bucket of oats and some halters and ropes to bring the wanderers home, but for some reason one mare spooked and headed straight for the fence. She crashed right into the wires, taking out five posts and about a hundred yards of fence. The rest of the horses followed her in a crazed stampede. Thankfully no one suffered any worse than a few cuts, scrapes and wire-shaved hair.
I look at the animals under our care and I wish that they could understand the purpose of the fences; that they would trust us to continue to provide all that they need in their proper places, and I can see how we all do the same thing with God. His will is our safe haven and He is our loving Shepherd who knows our needs better than we do. We have a tendency to listen to our flesh and gobble up bits of corruption that can wreak havoc on our spiritual lives. Some of us withstand temptation only until the consequences don't seem too painful - not seeing the full picture of the harm that can come to us. Often we even drag others along with us. We all know just how far we can push the limits and bend the rules, thinking we'll be ok as long as it looks like we're doing the right thing, but God sees our hearts and the rebellion within. And there will always be people that refuse to recognize God's authority and go their own way until no-one even tries to correct them anymore, and they'll never see the blessing they miss and the dangers they expose themselves to when they disregard God's will.
As we assess the past year and enter a new one my prayers include a desire to see and respect the fences that God has put in my life, and to encourage others to do the same. Contrary to worldly "wisdom" - freedom of choice, of self-expression... whatever folks want to call it these days - we will only experience true freedom and fullness of life when we seek and follow the perfect and trustworthy will of God.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Lessons Learned From Christmas and Sauerkraut
Greetings to all, and best Christmas wishes. Hopefully everyone enjoyed their holiday season with all the trimmings, as we did in our family.
This was our first Home Farm Christmas, and a holly jolly one it was, too. We managed to cram in a visit with nearly everyone on both sides of the family... involving lots of driving, lots of gifting, and of course plenty of good food! And this year our kids were blessed with a storybook Christmas day; up early with cocoa and cinnamon buns baking sweetly, music and lights and stocking stuffers, wrapping paper everywhere for the cat to play in, and then bundle into the 'Burban for a short drive to the grandparent's house where we did it all over again! Presents to share, turkey with the works, movies and snacks and board games - then repeat 'til everyone is dozing, plump and cozy with Christmas cheer.
As with many family gatherings, ours had one fly in the ointment, so to speak. A short altercation that left everyone suddenly uncomfortable and baffled. It made me think of sauerkraut.
See, here on Home Farm I like to try out the old fashioned way of doing things... a lot of my kitchen gadgets are hand-crank rather than plug-in; if I can grow it or make it I'd rather do that than buy it; I'm the one building a wood-fired oven outside instead of getting a new convection oven for inside, and ripping out my easy-care laminate flooring in favor of re-purposed barn wood flooring. So when it comes to cooking, I like to look to the old wisdom for food preservation, and those simple and delicious recipes of yesteryear. Since moving here to what seems to be the Ukrainian culture belt of Alberta, I've been introduced to Ukrainian sour cabbage rolls. Now, I'm no stranger to cabbage rolls, but our family's Polish background sees us stuffing fresh cabbage leaves with lots of meat, then baking the hearty morsels in a tomato sauce. The sour-style that I've become hopelessly addicted to involve using a whole cabbage that has been fermented, stuffing the leaves with mostly rice, and simmering them in plain water. Sounds dull. Not at all! The rice goes all creamy and salty and delicious, the sauerkraut has a perfect amount of sauer flavour... well, when I make a batch, that's all I eat until they're gone. Three meals a day, I have to have them. Words cannot describe the utter perfection of this dish!
However, those whole sauered cabbages run a pretty penny in our little town. We're talking $10 - $15 for ONE. And it takes a whole one for one batch of the rolls. That is a hard bite to swallow. Naturally, I would have to ferment my own cabbages.
Actually, the process is simple, and I have successfully made traditional shredded sauerkraut in the past. To ferment whole cabbages, one must first grow them (the growing is easy... the shooing away of rabbits, cabbage butterflies and deer - not so much), cut out the stem and core and fill the cavity with pickling salt, then one uses one's great grandfather's Medalta crock to cram the whole cabbages into, add spices if desired, and top with spring water. Put a weight in to hold the veg under the water, which slowly becomes a vinegary tasting brine which preserves the food. Pretty much any vegetables can do this, thanks to naturally occurring lactic microbial organisms which convert the sugars in the vegetables into lactic acid, which in turn makes an environment too acidic for evil spoilage bacteria to multiply. In a few weeks, ta daaa! Delicious pickledey veggies!
All seemed well; as the days went on the brine bubbled away, the veg began to change color slightly, and the smell that emanated from my pantry was... unusual but filled with promise. I envisioned cold winter nights with my dutch oven crammed to the brim with sumptuous cabbage rolls.
But I blew it. Let the proverbial fly get into the ointment. Or, more literally, let the yeast get into the brine.
I had a real hankering for some good sour dough rye bread, so I whipped up a batch of sour dough starter and set it in the pantry to do its thing. That yeast, it's a tricky devil. Always looking for a warm, moist environment to set up shop. And while salt is its kryptonite, it's not too fussy about a mildly acidic liquid like, say, a newly-fermenting crock of cabbages. And while my darling lacto bacteria will make my food tasty, crunchy and safely preserved, that sneaky yeast spore would rather turn the whole thing into alcohol and grow a slimy white goo and make my veggies into stinky mush.
I think you can figure out what happened. My cabbages fell in with a bad crowd.
However! All was not lost... since I was diligently checking progress in the crock, I saw the telltale signs of contamination right away. Now I was faced with a choice - try to skim off the foam, let the cabbages soak, and hope for the best? Or was the whole batch already garbage?
I decided to salvage the good stuff, and discard the bad. Rinsed off my cabbages, which were still crunchy and delicious-smelling, packed them in the freezer to keep for later, and then poured out the ruined brine and sanitized the crock.
Which brings me back to Christmas. On my beautiful Christmas day, there was suddenly an unwanted conflict that threatened to spoil the entire experience. Would I let it fester and bubble until my memories were turned to stinky mush? I always have a choice. Instead, thanks to the power of God and His wisdom, I can dump the bad stuff down the drain and keep the joy of the day safe in my heart and mind, to be brought out and enjoyed over and over.
It's possible there was a little yeast spore in the brine of your holidays this year, too. I encourage you to sanitize the "crock" of your mind. You can choose what to dwell on; what will fester and stink, or what will be preserved forever.
Don't despair!! Here's my Ukrainian Sour Cabbage Roll recipe:
Saute 10 slices of bacon, diced. Add one large onion, chopped, to the bacon fat and saute 'til soft and just turning golden. Add 2 Tblsp dried dill and 2 cups cooked short-grain rice (like Arborio, or even sushi rice). Depending on the saltiness of your bacon, you may want to add a little more salt. Using a whole sauered cabbage, roll a spoonful of the rice mixture in each leaf. (This is difficult to describe - if you've never done it, or seen it done, there are lots of videos online demonstrating the technique) Pack the rolls in layers in an oven safe dish or Dutch oven. Combine 2/3 cup water and 1/3 cup vegetable oil, pour over the rolls. Bake at 325* for 2 to 2 1/2 hours. These can also be rolled, set on parchment paper and frozen unbaked. Layer and bake from frozen. Enjoy!
Guess what I'm making for supper... ;)
This was our first Home Farm Christmas, and a holly jolly one it was, too. We managed to cram in a visit with nearly everyone on both sides of the family... involving lots of driving, lots of gifting, and of course plenty of good food! And this year our kids were blessed with a storybook Christmas day; up early with cocoa and cinnamon buns baking sweetly, music and lights and stocking stuffers, wrapping paper everywhere for the cat to play in, and then bundle into the 'Burban for a short drive to the grandparent's house where we did it all over again! Presents to share, turkey with the works, movies and snacks and board games - then repeat 'til everyone is dozing, plump and cozy with Christmas cheer.
As with many family gatherings, ours had one fly in the ointment, so to speak. A short altercation that left everyone suddenly uncomfortable and baffled. It made me think of sauerkraut.
See, here on Home Farm I like to try out the old fashioned way of doing things... a lot of my kitchen gadgets are hand-crank rather than plug-in; if I can grow it or make it I'd rather do that than buy it; I'm the one building a wood-fired oven outside instead of getting a new convection oven for inside, and ripping out my easy-care laminate flooring in favor of re-purposed barn wood flooring. So when it comes to cooking, I like to look to the old wisdom for food preservation, and those simple and delicious recipes of yesteryear. Since moving here to what seems to be the Ukrainian culture belt of Alberta, I've been introduced to Ukrainian sour cabbage rolls. Now, I'm no stranger to cabbage rolls, but our family's Polish background sees us stuffing fresh cabbage leaves with lots of meat, then baking the hearty morsels in a tomato sauce. The sour-style that I've become hopelessly addicted to involve using a whole cabbage that has been fermented, stuffing the leaves with mostly rice, and simmering them in plain water. Sounds dull. Not at all! The rice goes all creamy and salty and delicious, the sauerkraut has a perfect amount of sauer flavour... well, when I make a batch, that's all I eat until they're gone. Three meals a day, I have to have them. Words cannot describe the utter perfection of this dish!
However, those whole sauered cabbages run a pretty penny in our little town. We're talking $10 - $15 for ONE. And it takes a whole one for one batch of the rolls. That is a hard bite to swallow. Naturally, I would have to ferment my own cabbages.
Actually, the process is simple, and I have successfully made traditional shredded sauerkraut in the past. To ferment whole cabbages, one must first grow them (the growing is easy... the shooing away of rabbits, cabbage butterflies and deer - not so much), cut out the stem and core and fill the cavity with pickling salt, then one uses one's great grandfather's Medalta crock to cram the whole cabbages into, add spices if desired, and top with spring water. Put a weight in to hold the veg under the water, which slowly becomes a vinegary tasting brine which preserves the food. Pretty much any vegetables can do this, thanks to naturally occurring lactic microbial organisms which convert the sugars in the vegetables into lactic acid, which in turn makes an environment too acidic for evil spoilage bacteria to multiply. In a few weeks, ta daaa! Delicious pickledey veggies!
So, earlier this fall I did just that, and I did a jar of fresh cucumbers for good measure, deciding that if, in fact, they tasted good I would abandon the modern pickle method, since lacto-fermented cukes are infinitely faster and easier to make. And beautiful - check out the jar all ready for storage:
 |
| by the way, this is an enormous jar filled with large mature cucumbers... that's a horseradish leaf on top, and in the end they were yucky. But I'll likely try again anyway, with little pickling cukes and a different recipe |
But I blew it. Let the proverbial fly get into the ointment. Or, more literally, let the yeast get into the brine.
I had a real hankering for some good sour dough rye bread, so I whipped up a batch of sour dough starter and set it in the pantry to do its thing. That yeast, it's a tricky devil. Always looking for a warm, moist environment to set up shop. And while salt is its kryptonite, it's not too fussy about a mildly acidic liquid like, say, a newly-fermenting crock of cabbages. And while my darling lacto bacteria will make my food tasty, crunchy and safely preserved, that sneaky yeast spore would rather turn the whole thing into alcohol and grow a slimy white goo and make my veggies into stinky mush.
I think you can figure out what happened. My cabbages fell in with a bad crowd.
However! All was not lost... since I was diligently checking progress in the crock, I saw the telltale signs of contamination right away. Now I was faced with a choice - try to skim off the foam, let the cabbages soak, and hope for the best? Or was the whole batch already garbage?
I decided to salvage the good stuff, and discard the bad. Rinsed off my cabbages, which were still crunchy and delicious-smelling, packed them in the freezer to keep for later, and then poured out the ruined brine and sanitized the crock.
Which brings me back to Christmas. On my beautiful Christmas day, there was suddenly an unwanted conflict that threatened to spoil the entire experience. Would I let it fester and bubble until my memories were turned to stinky mush? I always have a choice. Instead, thanks to the power of God and His wisdom, I can dump the bad stuff down the drain and keep the joy of the day safe in my heart and mind, to be brought out and enjoyed over and over.
It's possible there was a little yeast spore in the brine of your holidays this year, too. I encourage you to sanitize the "crock" of your mind. You can choose what to dwell on; what will fester and stink, or what will be preserved forever.
Don't despair!! Here's my Ukrainian Sour Cabbage Roll recipe:
Saute 10 slices of bacon, diced. Add one large onion, chopped, to the bacon fat and saute 'til soft and just turning golden. Add 2 Tblsp dried dill and 2 cups cooked short-grain rice (like Arborio, or even sushi rice). Depending on the saltiness of your bacon, you may want to add a little more salt. Using a whole sauered cabbage, roll a spoonful of the rice mixture in each leaf. (This is difficult to describe - if you've never done it, or seen it done, there are lots of videos online demonstrating the technique) Pack the rolls in layers in an oven safe dish or Dutch oven. Combine 2/3 cup water and 1/3 cup vegetable oil, pour over the rolls. Bake at 325* for 2 to 2 1/2 hours. These can also be rolled, set on parchment paper and frozen unbaked. Layer and bake from frozen. Enjoy!
Guess what I'm making for supper... ;)
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Horse Sense
At long last, one of my dreams is realized - thanks to an over-generous birthday cheque, I have purchased a horse of my very own!
As a girl I pictured myself on a proud Arabian - neck arched, glossy hair flying like a banner... and the horse would look good, too. Then, after befriending a surly Tennessee Walker in college, that became my breed of choice, which is further confirmed by the temporary use of my dad's (also somewhat surly) Walker. It's like riding a Rolls Royce compared to a VW Beetle of a quarter horse.
My horse, however, is none of these breeds. I saw her on a facebook livestock sale site, and fell in love with her. I'd say she suits me just right - curious, a little stubborn, talkative, in love with food, and... big boned.
I bought myself a Fjord.
Now, this breed is not like a Ford compared to a Rolls Royce compared to a VW. It's more like... a Sherman tank. Painted pink.
The Fjord is an old breed from Norway, rugged and sweet tempered. They will forage and fatten on weeds that other horses won't touch, and they've been known to out-pull large draft horses. My Willow was likely on her way to the slaughterhouse, since she'd been bought at auction once already, somewhat misused, and no-one seemed to want her. She's a bargain-basement pony.
Apparently she's broke to drive, but the folks I got her from had a bit of a disaster with her, and I can hardly get near her with a rope. Perhaps she knows how to pull, but she's not had good experiences with it. My goal is to have her ready to pull a sleigh by next Christmas, and hopefully I can ride her next summer. Right now her plump, broad back just begs me to jump up there, but the look on Willow's face reminds me to take it slow.
Which brings me around to my point. I got to thinking about the parallels between horse training, and the way God works with us. I heard a story once about a man who trained horses to jump off high diving boards into a pool of water - an act completely foreign to a horse's natural inclination. When questioned on how such a feat was accomplished, he replied that he started the horse with tiny steps - then tiny jumps, slowly working up to the big dive. But he never let the horse fall. Each horse learned to trust him completely and obey without question, knowing that the trainer would never let them down.
This is how I'm trying to work with Willow. She's terribly head-shy, stretching out her neck and lips to take a treat, then jerking her head away if I try to pet her face. So I continue to pet her a little more, and scratch her forehead, working up to the time when she'll trust me enough to let me flap a plastic bag near her face. I'm not going to suddenly poke her in the eye.
And I've seen God working the same way with me. He continues to ask me for small jumps - little acts of obedience that may seem a bit frightening, a bit contrary to my natural inclination. But when I trust Him and step out in faith, He doesn't let me down. And the more I obey, the more I trust Him, the less afraid I am, and the circus of my life can keep progressing to greater obstacles and triumphs. I can rest assured that my loving Trainer will never let me fall.
As a girl I pictured myself on a proud Arabian - neck arched, glossy hair flying like a banner... and the horse would look good, too. Then, after befriending a surly Tennessee Walker in college, that became my breed of choice, which is further confirmed by the temporary use of my dad's (also somewhat surly) Walker. It's like riding a Rolls Royce compared to a VW Beetle of a quarter horse.
My horse, however, is none of these breeds. I saw her on a facebook livestock sale site, and fell in love with her. I'd say she suits me just right - curious, a little stubborn, talkative, in love with food, and... big boned.
I bought myself a Fjord.
Now, this breed is not like a Ford compared to a Rolls Royce compared to a VW. It's more like... a Sherman tank. Painted pink.
Apparently she's broke to drive, but the folks I got her from had a bit of a disaster with her, and I can hardly get near her with a rope. Perhaps she knows how to pull, but she's not had good experiences with it. My goal is to have her ready to pull a sleigh by next Christmas, and hopefully I can ride her next summer. Right now her plump, broad back just begs me to jump up there, but the look on Willow's face reminds me to take it slow.
Which brings me around to my point. I got to thinking about the parallels between horse training, and the way God works with us. I heard a story once about a man who trained horses to jump off high diving boards into a pool of water - an act completely foreign to a horse's natural inclination. When questioned on how such a feat was accomplished, he replied that he started the horse with tiny steps - then tiny jumps, slowly working up to the big dive. But he never let the horse fall. Each horse learned to trust him completely and obey without question, knowing that the trainer would never let them down.
This is how I'm trying to work with Willow. She's terribly head-shy, stretching out her neck and lips to take a treat, then jerking her head away if I try to pet her face. So I continue to pet her a little more, and scratch her forehead, working up to the time when she'll trust me enough to let me flap a plastic bag near her face. I'm not going to suddenly poke her in the eye.
And I've seen God working the same way with me. He continues to ask me for small jumps - little acts of obedience that may seem a bit frightening, a bit contrary to my natural inclination. But when I trust Him and step out in faith, He doesn't let me down. And the more I obey, the more I trust Him, the less afraid I am, and the circus of my life can keep progressing to greater obstacles and triumphs. I can rest assured that my loving Trainer will never let me fall.
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