Stuffed pattypan

We’ve enjoyed curried pattypans. We’ve tolerated them with tarragon and cream (frankly, they’re a touch watery for a sauté). Now, finally, many pounds into the season, we’ve discovered our favorite way to eat these little summer squash space ships! Thanks to the suggestion of Barbara Schutt and the culinary guidance of Julia Child, we blanched, hollowed out, and stuffed pattypans of all sizes (although small to medium taste best). A sprinkle of cheese and half an hour in a hot oven, and voilà!

When I made them, I varied the following recipe a little, using another, smaller zucchini in the stuffing instead of the pattypan cores, mixing in the tomato instead of spreading it on top, and putting in grated Asiago instead of Parmesan cheese. It was equally delicious as a hot supper and, the next day, as a cold lunch. As Julia would say, Bon appétit!

Courgettes Farcies au Riz et aux Poivrons (Zucchini Stuffed with Rice and Peppers)

adapted from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume II

Dill beans ready for canning

I spent most of the weekend preserving the garden’s bounty: shredding cabbage for sauerkraut, slicing tomatoes for the dehydrator, boiling large batches of zucchini marmalade (which tastes much better than it sounds), and pickling all kinds of vegetables. From Middle Eastern pickled turnips to classic American bread-and-butter cukes, I spent hours picking and chopping and brining. If I don’t put things up for winter, I feel like I’m failing the garden. Why bother nurturing seedlings in March if I’m going to let them rot in August? It’s gratifying to line the cellar walls with rows of full jars, and even more so to bring some up mid-winter.

The one disappointment of the weekend, though, was the dilly beans. After packing five quart-jars with dill heads, trimmed beans, and the mustard seed that Karl had been diligently threshing all through the girls’ nap time, I lost not one, but two jars in the canner. The first shattered as soon as I plunged it into the boiling the water–probably an imperfection in the jar. The second, though, exploded 8 minutes into its water bath. I’m pretty sure that was my error–I’m afraid I tightened the screw-band so much that the beans didn’t have space to expand. Though it’s probably not sound pickling technique, I left the other jars in the vinegary water bath, and they all sealed for me. I scooped the floating beans out of the boiling water, rinsed them a dozen times, and sautéed them for dinner. Beatrice liked them so much that she took a break from dessert to finish off the last in the serving bowl. Lessons learned: canning jars will explode if the screw-bands are too tight, and fried dilly beans are awesome!

Our new hoop house

I’ve been itching to build a hoop house for some time now. This spring I went to a permaculture demonstration on extending the season at David Homa’s impressive home and permaculture site. I based this small hoop house on his design and several of these small hoops that he had set up at his place. It’s not too complicated, cost around $100 in supplies, and took me exactly a day to construct, including digging out the sod to place the raised bed. We’re still sifting the compost to fill the bed, but hope to get some things planted and growing in the hoop in the next week or so, so we can plan on harvesting greens and some other hardy things well into the fall and winter.

Charlotte and Bea help excavate the spot for the raised bed and mini hoop house.

The raised bed, finished and ready to have the top and hoop attached.

The hinged top and hoops in place.

The finished hoop house, soon to be filled with hardy fall and winter plants.

Summer Vegetable Stew

The girls woke early from their naps yesterday and, grouchy and sleepy, they wandered down to the garden with me. Half an hour later, their moods had improved and we had all the fixin’s for supper: fistfuls of basil, baskets piled with carrots, fingerlings, onions, tomatoes, patty pans, a few sprigs of herbs, and whatever green beans Bea hadn’t gobbled up already. This stew, from Deborah Madison’s lovely book, Local Flavors, is one of my favorites this time of year. I cut a few corners–leaving my tomatoes unpeeled and unseeded and my green beans whole, and changing the proportions of vegetables to suit what’s ready for harvest. In last night’s version, I went heavy on the sage and summer squash, and all but the shell beans, bell pepper and olive oil came from the garden.

Shell Beans and Summer Vegetables Stewed in Their Own Juices

Bea can't get enough!

Our growing herd of dairy goats was definitely one of the main attractions for those stopping by on Saturday

It was an honor and a great pleasure to be included among the farms on this year’s Backyard Locavore tour, and Saturday was a perfect day to show folks around the homestead. After a week spent mowing and trimming and tidying up the place, Karl and I put out some chévre and, with the help of the Cooperative Extension Office’s excellent volunteers, took turns answering questions and leading people through our gardens, orchard, and root cellar/cheese cave/basement.

Eating locally, like so many of our major life changes, has snuck up on us: every year, the garden and poultry flocks expand, the goat herd multiplies, and I become a little more proficient at food preservation. And each year, as we weed and milk and can, we come a little closer to self-sufficiency. Showing visitors around gave us a chance to focus on what we’re doing right–instead of seeing all the projects we haven’t finished (raised asparagus beds, anyone?), we saw tomato vines leaning with heavy clusters of fruit, 100 heads of garlic curing in the root cellar, and pumpkins so big that our girls can’t lift them. The hens are laying, the broilers are fattening, and the ducks have added fallen apples and acorns to their diet. The homestead chugs along, and we are so so lucky to be along for the ride.

Master Gardener and Master Preserver Rae Belanger (and master-in-the-making Charlotte) answered everyone’s questions about jams and jellies.

Ten Apple Farm herb and smoked paprika chévre

Our new farm sign adorns the barn

We have a farm sign!! Check it out. ‘Nuff said.

The barn

One of our nine tasty peaches

We planted two fruit trees last year, one cherry and one peach, but we didn’t expect any fruit for at least 3 years, and even that we thought might be optimistic. Boy, were we in for a treat! This spring, year two, the little peach tree was literally covered with small fuzzy green peaches. Most of them never made it, either falling off or shriveling up. But nine of them held on and ripened. We’re going to have to wait at least one more year for cherries, but in the meantime we’re enjoying our peaches.

Peaches on homemade granola

A grasshopper in the tarragon

Yes, they’re a Biblical scourge. And yes, they’re nibbling holes in our plants. But there’s something so lovely and summery about a grasshopper at rest on a leaf.

A hawk's eye view of the broilers

Saturday morning as I was bringing the goats down from the barn, there was a great commotion in the chicken yard. I was on the far side of the barn, so I couldn’t see what it was and thought it was just the layers fighting for position as they were coming down the ramp. Once I got the goats penned, I noticed a group of 8-10 broilers were on the outside of their electric pen. I glanced over at the tractor and saw two more hiding under the tarp and one or two pacing nervously near the fence. I realized that the commotion I heard was something going after the broilers. I extracted 3 more who were cowering under a large pile of kindling and did a quick head count. There were only 17, and there should have been 25 plus a yellow one with fuzzy feet that was the free “exotic” that came with the order and one black Australorp hatchling that had been living with the broilers, both of whom were also missing. Something had gotten into the broilers and made off with a bunch of our chickens.

I had seen a hawk fly over head the morning before, but there was no way a hawk could have made off with that many, and it seemed unlikely that a fox or raccoon or something like that would have come in daylight, or made off with so many in so short of time — and while there were some feathers strewn about, there was no real sign of blood or struggle.

Margaret had come down from the house to investigate and help re-tally the head count. Charlotte came too and had been calling out that she had found the chickens, but we had just figured she was talking about the layers at the top of the hill. But she kept insisting, and so we gave up on our detective work and went to investigate. Sure enough, over in the high grass by the maple were 7 broilers, the yellow fuzzy chicken and the Australorp. Charlotte had found the chickens and saved the day. A final count left the flock at 24, so we guessed it probably was that hawk, and it made off with one of the broilers… it had its work cut out for it flying with one of these guys, as they’re already getting pretty fat. Clairvoyant Charlotte named the missing chicken “Lucky,” and mostly pretended to be upset saying he was her favorite. Later that day we came home to find “Lucky” wandering around the outside of the pen, trying to get back to the flock from his hiding spot, wherever that had been. Lucky indeed.

Beans climbing in the morning light

I love summer mornings on the farm. Once morning chores are done, I love to just poke around the garden and take in the splendor in the beautiful morning light. Here are some pictures from this morning.

Broilers, finished with their morning grain, looking for more

Bee and mustard flowers

Lady bug explores the dill

Onion flower

Toka and the goats browse a new section of the paddock

For more photos from this morning, check out the gallery on our page on Facebook