BOOK REVIEW: THE DIRTY LIFE.
We read a great deal of books then spend a subsequent great deal of time talking about them, but just recently realized we often neglect to really mention them on the blog. With the fall approaching, bringing with it shorter and shorter days, the farmer is typically left to their own devices; left to find ways to somehow farm in the dark. And what better way to do so than with a good book? In the spirit of that, and of what will probably be an literature-rich winter for us, we've decided to occasionally post a book review (or really, a recommendation) when a book moves us. The title which most recently inspired this action was Kristin Kimball's "The Dirty Life," a story not all too different from our own, with a resolution not all too different from what we want for ourselves: a sustainable farm, family and life.
In the beginning of the book she introduces herself from this farm, while her husband cooks for her––something she refers to as "a farmer's expression of intimacy,"––already deep into this lifestyle. What makes the book special is that it's the story of how it happened, how this city dweller found herself becoming a farmer. It revolves around her first year on their upstate farm, occasionally meandering in and out of her past and future, finding its stride not solely in great stories, but in observations about the farm through city eyes. Needless to say, Hannah and I, having recently come from big cities ourselves with no real inclination as to what even happens on a farm before we arrived on one, often relate so well to the story it's obnoxious: this women has, in many ways, written our book.
But we admit we were compelled to recommend "The Dirty Life" because it is so close to our story, and because it's a love story anyone would enjoy. It's a book about farming, but prefers to simply converse with you, the reader, rationally, honestly, and often humorously about what she was going through not just as a neophyte farmer, but as an unsuspecting victim of the most underrated addictions: physical labor. We definitely enjoyed it as farmers, but agree we would have enjoyed it no matter our profession.
For us, one thing we really appreciated––and I'll end with this––is how poignant in many ways it was to what we've been going through this year: "All we could do was keep trying. We were making it up as we went along. I remember feeling a kind of reverse nostalgia then, a longing for the future, when the canon would be established, when we would know what to expect and be equipped to handle it." And how.
- Jesse.
CHOCOLATE ALMOND PEAR TART.
We have been blessed to have an ancient pear tree right in our backyard. It is HEAVY with fruit right now, and we often hear them ker-thunking to the ground, narrowly missing the occasional chicken. We have been eating them daily, and Jesse plans on making cider and wine with the excess, but I wanted to find another way to use them. While looking for recipes, I found this one courtesy of Martha Stewart (who I am kind of obsessed with right now). It turned out great, although I would recommend par-baking the tart for a few minutes before arranging the pears on top. Mine sank a little bit and so the end product was not as lovely as Martha’s….but it tasted delicious!
Things I changed in the recipe - raw almonds mashed with the mortar and pestle, turbinado sugar & honey in place of regular sugar, apricot jam instead of apple....and our crazy wild pears instead of Bartlett.
- Hannah.
LE SIGH.
Unfortunately, our crazy relative Aunt Drought is back in town, staying in our garden and being a general annoyance: yesterday marks three weeks dry. Last night, since no rain randomly graced us, we found ourselves once again hauling water from the pond up to the garden to keep the fall share going which, at this moment, we're not even entirely sure if we'll be able to offer.A sigh doesn't quite explain this year entirely, but it comes close.We're not trying to unload another negative post, though! We just want to update our readers with what's going on and, unfortunately, what's going on sorta sucks. Besides the return of the dryness and the whole losing-our-garden thing, there are many positive possibilities revealing themselves, they are just too young to really talk about yet. So we try to simply focus on the small joys of our days...constant fresh bouquets of zinnias, a happy little wooden painting, a tree outside our window heavy with pears, bushels of garlic ready to be planted - location to be determined!Since we were asked to leave, our inbox has been flooded with kind notes and advice from many friends, family and strangers. It has all been very inspiring, and it will likely be out of this support that we find the setting for the next chapter––one you're helping to write. We haven't made a decision as to what to do next just yet, but we have been moved by how many options have presented themselves, and how many keep coming.We promise to keep everybody updated, and to keep keepin' on. We're sorry the blog has been such a downer lately, but we also hope one day we can be apologizing for being too cheery, too upbeat from a glut of wonderful happenings. This year might have been a sigh so far, but there's still plenty of time to turn it into a smile, and with all your love and support, plenty of reason to.- Jesse.
HANDS-ON COOKING.
One of our favorite wedding presents we received was our giant granite mortar and pestle. It is ridiculously primitive in a way....but also unbelievably satisfying. There is nothing like a hot cup of coffee made with freshly ground beans that you spent several groggy minutes smashing yourself. Jesse and I hope to one day live for awhile without electricity...and our mortar and pestle will then become essential - much more than a novelty item! It most recently was responsible for some delicious pesto. INGREDIENTS: Fresh basil and garlic, some olive oil and pine nuts, and some serious grinding = perfection. Do any of you have a mortar and pestle? What do you use it for? But more importantly - which is the mortar and which is the pestle?!- Hannah.