tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66123992518459775182024-02-19T09:57:19.983-05:00The Raw and the CookOr: how a 26-year old English major who didn't want to become a teacher finds uses for the liberal arts on a small organic farm.MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.comBlogger120125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-55941305438065647082011-08-02T09:23:00.002-04:002011-08-02T09:42:09.879-04:00Our New AddressOur website it operational! Sure, there are details that need updating, but you can navigate from page to page and even see a few pictures. From now on, you can get your dose of farm new at openbookfarm.wordpress.com. We have a new blog there as well, hosted by Wordpress, which includes fancy new features like subscription (never miss another one of my too infrequent posts!) Despite our MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-68513301474570636522011-07-21T17:03:00.002-04:002011-07-21T19:05:06.567-04:00The Learning CurveNo matter how long you farm, you've always got something new to learn. Here are just a few of the gems we've gleaned from our first week as Open Book Farm:If you own multiple vehicles and live on a farm, it is a bad idea to carry the keys in your purse. You just might drive off somewhere really far away (say, New York) and accidentally take both sets of keys with you.Chick hatcheries can (and MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-40108506680733788702011-07-20T15:33:00.003-04:002011-07-20T15:45:29.243-04:00My Shepherd <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --Ever since I figured out that children are a lot of work, I've been thinking about getting a dog. Andrew, as the more practical member of our partnership, spent the past year reminding me that nomads who live out of a Mazda Protege do not need a dog in the backseat. When we signed our 20 month lease at the beginning of June, MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-69198607909687689472011-07-11T07:33:00.006-04:002011-07-11T08:41:57.164-04:00Big News (and some little news) <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> We're finally starting our farm! We're deep in the throes of website development at present (as well as chick brooder construction, market research, crop planning, and of course food preservation), so please forgive us the dearth of details. I must, however, share at least one with you--our name. Welcome to Open Book MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-79142872611453681032011-01-29T04:00:00.002-05:002011-01-30T05:20:40.025-05:00Not For the Faint of HeartLike every great epic, we begin in medias res:I'm in Hong Kong!And I'm married!We'll catch up on the details some other day. For now, I'm on epicurean holiday.I read in a cookbook recently an old joke that the Cantonese will eat anything with four legs except a chair. Based on my admittedly limited sample set, this seems like a conservative assesment. For starters, Cantonese cuisine MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-27999132605540195562010-06-06T11:08:00.001-04:002010-06-06T11:08:53.934-04:00MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-1198842742472435902010-06-06T07:04:00.004-04:002010-06-06T08:06:31.466-04:00Prosperpina's ReturnIn Roman mythology, Ceres was the goddess of growing plants and mothering relationships, though she is perhaps most remembered as the mother of the abducted goddess Proserpina. According to the myth, the god of the underworld fell in love with Prosperina, kidnapped her, and made her his queen in the realm of the dead. Ceres, out of grief at the loss of her daughter, immediately stopped the MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-19875038073224257862010-05-19T21:30:00.004-04:002010-05-19T21:50:16.874-04:00The Best Man is a HorseWell. It has been a busy spring. Standing on the site of the greenhouse at the beginning of April, I felt a little bit crazy. What kind of mad hubris would make me believe that I could do so much in so little time: build a greenhouse, assist with a massive home renovation, build a CSA from the ground up, and nurse my little plantlings up from the frozen ground? Perhaps if we'd planted MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-13125168943378796832010-04-27T20:02:00.006-04:002010-04-27T20:24:09.162-04:00Vegetable Musical ChairsI'm a planner and a list-maker by nature, one of those compulsive types who sometimes writes down tasks after having completed them, simply for the pleasure of checking them off as done. So you can imagine what the lead-up to this year was like for me: umpteen spreadsheets and to-do lists and timetables and budgets, to the point where my computer ran slow from so many open windows. They are my MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-753716434787466312010-04-11T18:10:00.001-04:002010-04-11T18:13:32.078-04:00The View from TuesdaySome days (like Monday), chores expand. Milking turns into bottling, collecting eggs turns into cleaning eggs, the walk behind rototiller keeps dying, and watering the animals turns into castrating piglets. Before you know it, 4 AM has turned into noon, and all hands are on deck to finish the chores so that we can finally go home for a proper meal. Days like Monday have their purpose, though, MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-54728964954778126892010-04-09T16:48:00.002-04:002010-04-09T16:55:43.910-04:00How Badly Do You Want It?My eyes are bigger than my garden. I think I can attribute this overambitiousness to Eliot Coleman's books Winter Harvest Handbook and the classic New Organic Grower. Eliot Coleman, whose brilliant designs and incredibly efficient systems yield fresh greenery all winter long (in Maine!) can be both inspiring and depressing when you are in my position. As a farmer striking out on her own this MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-82632794913948232612010-03-25T09:31:00.006-04:002010-03-25T10:01:19.873-04:00Secret Family Recipe (this is your only chance)Breakfast today was a revelatory experience. So good, in fact, that I am considering letting this farming thing fall to the wayside to pursue fame and fortune as the proprietress of a new breakfast cafe: "The Intranational House of Pancakes" All puns aside, I can safely say that this is my favorite pancake recipe of all time. And the weirdest thing? These pancakes have almost no sweetener MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-56852493947940106022010-03-05T06:42:00.003-05:002010-03-05T07:50:11.124-05:00Miso Soup for the SoulLately, things have been a bit frantic in my household. There are approximately 15 million decisions to make (give or take a thousand), and while the days are lengthening, they never seem quite long enough to accommodate my optimistic to-do lists. Some days, I throw my hands up and make a fancy dinner anyway, time be damned.But on occasion I too want good food fast, and since the closest thing MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-19373691276571269732010-02-19T07:20:00.003-05:002010-02-19T14:00:57.995-05:00Gone From My SightI flew to visit my grandmother Monday; I caught the last flight out of JFK before the snows swept in and put the city on hold. I knew that it would be my last chance to see her, and I worried that I might arrive too late. My father and I woke early to hit the road to Alabama; our car cut through the chilly morning air past grass the faded tan of winter.When we arrived, my Uncle was waiting to MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-62408138879843170912010-02-13T15:55:00.002-05:002010-02-16T00:19:43.404-05:00On Serendipity: A RetrospectiveI believe in America’s agricultural revival. I’m 23 years old, the product of a small liberal arts college and a bustling, cosmopolitan graduate school, and I’m comparison shopping for work boots and overalls in preparation for my first day as a farmer. I’ll be honest; I don’t entirely know what I’m getting into. I grew up in the city, have never grown so much as a tomato. Call me crazy, but I MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-20565162677008530292010-02-10T13:08:00.005-05:002010-02-10T20:58:40.272-05:00The Breakfast of ChampionsWho doesn't love a snow day? Well, the snowplow operator might not be so thrilled when he looks out his window onto a downy dusting of snow, but this morning brought great rejoicing among the students and faculty of the charter school where I have been subbing. Substitute teacher that I am, I did not get the memo that school was off until I had driven 25 minutes and pulled into a ghost-town MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-48829238243890445092010-02-02T19:52:00.006-05:002010-02-02T21:23:25.792-05:00Iron Chef: Haggis ChallengeRumor has it that the most popular question on the President’s CitizenTube talking point list enquires as to the future of that most cherished of stoner dreams: the legalization of marijuana. Personally, I’m impatient with such trivial matters. A far graver US ban haunts my days and nights: the longstanding haggis blockade.In case you missed it, Burns Night (anniversary of the birth of MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-63431280002149980542010-01-24T16:35:00.005-05:002010-01-26T09:36:26.535-05:00BeantreesMy first seed order has arrived! Never has such a small box conveyed more promise and excitement for me. With this affirmation that I am a bonafide yeoman farmgirl, I figured that I ought to start behaving like a proper small business owner and begin keeping track of business expenses. So I traipsed on out to Staples, loaded up on printer ink, tupperware boxes, and filing supplies, and came MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-54547953490141374732010-01-13T20:23:00.003-05:002010-01-13T21:36:12.068-05:00The Deep FreezeLast night, I watched a movie all about dirt. The documentary was, in fact, entitled "Dirt!" (the exclamation point conveyed by the somewhat manic animation sequences depicting the microscopic life of dirt), and it did an admirable job of describing a conventionally unglamorous substance as worthy of awe and admiration. I came out of the screening with the same buoyant, yearning heart that MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-14123108179335947112009-12-23T10:26:00.002-05:002009-12-23T22:41:15.825-05:00The Best Laid PlansLate last night, I finally watched the film Julie and Julia--the parallel story of Julia Child and here twenty-first century devotee and blogger, Julie Powell. Unsurprisingly, half way through the film I found myself guiltily reflecting on my lax blogging as of late while simultaneously chastising myself for the self-aggrandizing thought that anyone other than me had lost any sleep over this MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-47315986281633048072009-11-30T18:36:00.003-05:002009-12-05T00:22:19.198-05:00Bringing Home the Bacon (Fat)Given the glut of food propaganda, I think it is high time for me to join the fray. The way I figure, vegetables have plenty of champions, from Michael Pollan to Michelle Obama. Meat has Joel Salatin, a staunch defender if ever I met one. Even high fructose corn syrup has its defenders (though I'm more a fan of the rebuttal, myself). So I'm going to defend fat: poor under appreciated, unlovedMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-32991066187281730042009-11-17T22:29:00.009-05:002009-11-17T23:41:34.008-05:00Pastured Poultry PreservationRecently, preparing to leave Massachusetts for a sojourn in the sunny south, I surveyed my winter stockpile of provisions with a critical eye. I needed stock. Chicken stock. Lots of chicken stock. What, after all, is a cold winter’s day without a pot of soup steaming on the stovetop and a mug of cocoa reanimating my frosted fingers? Admittedly, homemade stock has never been my strongpoint—MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-79421300867778769112009-10-25T16:07:00.003-04:002009-10-25T21:34:34.753-04:00The Decline and Fall of Western CivilizationLacking Visigoths banging at the gates, we must look for subtler clues that our civilization is in decline. I found one yesterday, much to my chagrin, on the packaging of mason jar replacement lids. The title of the recipe read: Enjoy Mild Fiesta Salsa Year-Round! Sounds good, right? A recipe for home canners? About that... The recipe calls for 5 cans of diced tomatoes, 1 package of "Mild MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-73770350235795073452009-10-14T21:34:00.005-04:002009-10-14T21:55:41.406-04:00The Real Deal on VealI’ve never been a big fan of traditional signs of love and commitment: flowers, rings, buying a dog together. Instead, Andrew and I bought a veal calf and a chest freezer.This is the culmination of my quest, begun one year ago, to confront my own questions about the appropriateness of eating meat. I’ve had my doubts, guilty moments in between the ecstasy of bacon and a heaping portion of MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6612399251845977518.post-46496566792301042132009-09-30T20:46:00.007-04:002009-09-30T21:36:10.537-04:00A Watermelon ManifestoSeedless watermelons. I can't stand them. Well, secretly, I too have been victim to their charms (so much easier for cooking!), but when it comes to my garden I flatly refuse to grow them. It's a philosophical stance for me, as well as an aesthetic one. Unquestionably, they look silly. What's the vivid pink and electric green of a watermelon without the unassuming black seeds holding it all MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01865256825686784172noreply@blogger.com4