Changes afoot...

Hi y'all! 

Guess what?!  I am moving my blog!  For reasons I won't get into, I have decided that another format would be a bit, say, user-friendly.  So if you want to keep following me, please head over to my new blog and follow me!  Please!!!

Faulk Farmstead!

STOP! (Or how my daughter is whipping me back into shape)

Happy back to school!
Congrats on surviving the first week!

 

I will be honest with you. I was looking forward to school starting for the sole reason that I need to get a routine back after experiencing my first summer of harvest. Although, my harvesting time is far from over: there is still another bounty of green beans, corn getting close to harvest, potatoes waiting to be dug up - and let's not forget the stuff still attempting to mature - heirloom tomatoes, roma tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, beets, and carrots....

 

So back to the routine thing...  With the kiddos back in school, I will now have a few hours to myself a few days a week, do get things done.  In preparation, I had made a quite lofty list of things to get done this next week: brew kombucha, make crackers, make bread, clean out chicken coop, muck out animal sheds, clean out our spare bedroom, work on my quilt, pick up new meat chicks, clean out playhouse...  Oh, and I also have to work this week, Em's guitar lessons, and her band's concert.  No biggie, right?

 

And then things got put into perspective...
 

Big time.
 

By a nine-year-old...

 

I was putting her to bed after her 2nd day of fourth grade (fourth grade?!  I know, right??), and told her how utterly proud I was to have such a big, smart, wonderful fourth grader.  Her response to me?  "I just wish I was in 3rd grade still."  Huh?  This is my kid who LOVES school, learning, her friends, etc. - and was even blessed enough to have the same, wonderful teacher again this year.  "What??  Why?  I thought you were so excited to start a new grade!" I asked her.

 

 

 

Her response?

 

"Mom, I just really don't want to grow up anymore.

 

I just want to stay this size, with you."

 

*heart-wrenching sniffle*

 

 

Oh Lordy.  These are the moments I wish I could so badly take back those nights when I am too busy to lay down with her, too stressed to take the time to COMPLETELY STOP everything I am doing and focus completely on what she is telling me.   I felt like my heart was literally breaking... 

 

Why is it that our days get so over-filled with measly details that crowd out the things we really need to be doing?   Granted, most of those things on my list are need-to-do's for my family - It's important for me to provide homemade food and goodies for my family; the animals need clean places to thrive, yada yada yada...  But my kid needs me a hell of a lot more..

 

I have a new list for this week...

 

I will still do those need-to-do's that are important to me for my family - but I will do them when Emma is gone at school.   But once she is home, my list will consist of:

 

 

Practicing patience with my family

 

LISTENING, in such a whole-hearted way, to my loved ones

 

When Emma asks me something or has something to show me - I will allow myself to do nothing but focus on her.

 

When stress hits, I will ask myself "Is this really as bad as it feels right this second?"  Stop, and take a step backwards - chances are, when re-looking at the issue, it won't be quite as huge as I had thought. 

 

And lastly,

Remember that Emma wants this moment to last forever - and acknowledge that I feel the same way...
 

 

 

 

 

 

Coming Full Circle... (aka how we came to kill our first animal...)

DISCLAIMER:  This post does talk about butchering an animal - if this is not your thing, you've been warned...

So, from the beginning, my plan was to one day come to the point where I could source my food completely from my land.  But not just the "land" being my garden.  I'm talking real meat and potatoes here.  Meat, dairy, veggies.  You know what I mean. 

The vegetables have truly been a thrill.  Being able to harvest bushels of beans multiple times, as well as kale, garlic, and everything else, has been more than rewarding.  The eggs?  Everything I had hoped for.  Meat?  Well, we were thinking that would be awhile - as our ram and ewe have not yet, um, made their union "official".  This week, however, we found that things have changed a bit...

We have this rooster.  For those that know us, I'm not talking about Doris Day - our rooster we thought was a flamboyant hen - but that's another story altogether.  I'm talking 'bout Cockadoo, our sexlink rooster that has ALWAYS made it clear that he is THE rooster here.  Well, Cockadoo has always been a bit... cocky.  When myself or the girls would come out to feed them or collect eggs, he would puff up and do a bit of a charge in our direction, but he kindly reserved the attacking and spur-directing towards the defenseless goats.  Nice guy, right? 



The last known photograph of Cockadoo, the white rooster - back in his smaller days...

So fast-forward to this past week.  When I heard Emma screaming from the pasture.  Screaming.  Here was the rooster - chasing her.  Fast.  By the time I had gotten out there, he had backed off and she was attempting to regain her composure.  Then comes the next day.  Condensed version: I get cornered in the 4-foot tall goat shed by the rooster.  Spurs come flying.  I kick hard.  Repeat.  I feed chickens.  Attacked again.  Kick again.  I am angry.  I tell Micky that the rooster is out of chances and I have already planned his dinner.  I'm sure you can see where this is going.

So after spending the weekend avoiding the chicken pasture - for my safety, of course! - Monday comes.  The determined "day."  Now, keep in mind, while Micky has butchered his share of deer and elk, we haven't done a chicken before.  After a you-tube-ish crash course in chicken butchering, we came up with a game plan:

1. Rig up a traffic cone upside down to place the bird in
2. Knock out the bird before cutting it's throat.  For some reason, the ONE thing I felt bad about was that the damn rooster would be aware of us cutting it's throat.  Go figure.  A blunt blow to the back of the head did the trick.  Kind of. 
3. After chicken bleeds out, remove head and dunk in simmering water to loosen feathers and de-feather the beast.
4. Butcher!  This was in Micky's court. 
5. Clean up bird, let rest for a couple days, then FEAST!

Ok, now here is how it really happened:

1. Traffic cone: Good idea.  Trimmed the skinny part of the cone to help the huge rooster's head fit through.  After we had reached the point of no-return, realized....  We had a big rooster and it didn't quite fit.  But we made it fit. 
2. Thought the bird was knocked out.  After the throat was slit, realized he wasn't quite.  I think Mick got tired of watching him struggle and move around - so the head just got cut off.  Eh. 
3. De-feathering: This actually worked awesome!  Water temp at 175, dunking up and down for 30 seconds.  Perfection.  If any of this could be considered perfection.
4. Butchering:.  My husband truly rocks at this.  Our only road bump was the crop.  This is a sac-like structure partway down the esophagus that holds food, debris, and whatnot before it heads down towards the gizzard.  Our well-intended attempts to avoid puncturing this failed, but clean-up was easy.  Everything else went great, until the wings.  It was the end of the process for us, and after Micky said "You don't really eat the wings anyway, right?", the wings were gone.
5. Clean up went uneventful - aside from the fact that my bird was a little odd looking without wings, but hey!  Our first time pretty much rocked! 

So, moral of the story?  Don't expect it to go as you thought it would - the first time.  Clearly, we have some learning and adjusting to do, but all in all, I think we did pretty damn good.

I then had 2 days to come up with the BEST POSSIBLE way to cook this guy.  The thing with pasture-raised, free-ranging poultry is: this is not the chicken you are buying in your standard market.   These chickens are active, have the ability to forage for their food, and have wide open spaces to develop in.  If you were to cook it up like you would a standard store-bought bird, you could likely end up with something drier and tougher than you would like. 

My conclusion ended up being to cook this bird slow and low.  Our bird ended up being between 3 and 4 pounds.  I was uber excited to finally taste real pasture-raised poultry, so I kept the seasoning to a minimum: Drizzle of EVOO, sea salt, crushed pepper, and a smattering of dried sage.  That's it.  Popped in a stoneware baker and baked at 275 degrees for 3 hours, then upped it to 375 for another 30 minutes, until the internal temp was about 175. 

The result?  Hands down, BEST.  CHICKEN.  EVER.  The meat was much darker and more flavorful than I had expected, literally fall-off-the-bone tender.  And I wasn't the only one that felt this enamored with the food.  Around the table, we were all in awe.  :) 

That crispy, hot, yumminess...

Oh yeah....  Falling off the bone, peeps...

Wait a minute...  I am NOT done.  I have to tell you about the best part of the whole meal!   "Huh?  The chicken wasn't the best part?"  Nope.  This was our FIRST meal that we were able to completely produce:  Mashed taters from the garden, roasted green beans from the garden - oh, and the chicken! 

THIS is what I have been yearning to do. 
THIS is when all the researching, sweating, and hard work has led up to. 
MY CONFIRMATION:  We can do this.  And we will continue to do this.  Finally, I feel like I am meant to do this. 


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