Long Ago & Far Away

 

Working the gardens today, restored the place in heart where my love of garden dwells. My return home this afternoon found me daydreaming of those wonderful days long ago and far away when I was a girl on the great big prairie. Those days formed my soul's yearning to plant and plow and watch it grow. Travel with me, won't you?

 Long summer days faded into fall on the prairie; each days work grew as harvests came. When the canner was full the grandmothers would sit and chat while I slipped out to find my freedom in the big prairie farm.

   Canning day: trapped in the kitchen with jars and lids, beans and carrots and....the pressure canner. I saw a jar explode in that thing and I've been afraid of it every since. As the grandmothers become busy chatting over boiling pots opportunity opens; time to make my getaway!
   Slipping out the back door, I dart through the garage dodging little kitties on the way. No time to stop and pet one, goodness, the grandmothers might spot me through the screen door and chain me to the endless buckets of beans to snap or cherries to pit...ewe, no way..I'm running. Down the sloping gravel drive as fast as little bare feet can go (why didn't I think to slip on the shoes..oh, yea, no time!). Grass welcomes my toes near the tree line..another old friend greets me there: the old round rope swing.
   I don't know where it came from or how long it's been here, but I never remember a time when it wasn't here. Long yellow rope hangs high from the big tree...at the bottom an orange plastic disk is the perfect size for me. At the edge of the grassy area a smile creeps across my face. My feet take off with record speed toward the swing...one flying leap, my hands catch the rope as I make my way onto the swing.
   At the top of the sway the fall sun kisses my cheeks softly; my eyes close as the warmth embraces me. Gravity pulls me back to the earth tugging wisps of my hair free from their braids; they dance around my face like dandelion fluff. Again! Tugging the rope as far as it reaches I leap on and start the joyful cycle again; ah, freedom!
   Dozens and dozens of jumps and swirls, twirls and spins restore my little soul (after hours of kitchen canning torture). Then, in the corner of my eye, the tank! Near the swing sits a huge propane tank- shiny silver and big! Really big! In the summer that tank gets hot enough to eat your flesh right off your legs, but in fall...such temptation..it would be so fun.
   I dart the the garage, grab one of the braided rugs we use to sit on the metal lawn chairs...this will make a perfect horse blanket. Back down the slope to the grassy patch..excitement gives me tingles. I know I shouldn't, but....one quick look...then..
   Tossing the blanket on my sturdy steed I hop on his back. "Giddy-up," I command as I lean forward..bouncing with his mighty gallop. My hands hold the 'reigns' and my feet kick at his sides while we ride swiftly over the prairie grasses....braids flying as his main flicks my face. A giggle can't help but escape my lips...until.
   "What on earth are you doing?" ....busted! Here it comes...the 'you're going to blow yourself up' lecture and enslavement to the canning jars.

   In all the years I spent on my grandparent's prairie home, the orange disk rope swing hung there at the base of the drive right near the big propane tank. My grandmother would always warn me about the risk of getting blown up from bumping that tank; sometimes the temptation was just too much. God must surely have been watching me; it never did explode in all my rambunctious naughtiness. I suppose He understand the silly heart of a little child just at play.

Zaida's Feta

    Along my path to a home dairy many a cheese recipe has come. Some pass through with a slight nod and others remain household staples. I received a recipe for feta in a cheese making kit purchased early on. It was okay but nothing to call the neighbors about. After research, reading, trial and error the farm boy and I have put together a marinated feta we just can't live without.
    In the past, we tested our recipes with purchased pasteurized cow's milk as well as purchased raw cow's milk both of which had excellent results. Having a small dairy herd on our homestead, all of my cheeses are now made with fresh, raw, unpasteurized cheese from our very own dairy goats. A heavy bottom stainless steal stock pot with a lid serve us well along side a digital thermometer. Instead of purchasing expensive cheese cloth for our cheeses, I use cloth diapers- the unfolded kind purchased just for this purpose. They hold up well to multiple washing and are sturdy for hanging heavy cheeses.
    Without further ado, I share the recipe we make every week with fresh, raw milk from our herd queen, Zaida.

Zaida's Feta

1 gallon fresh milk

1/4 cup cultured buttermilk

1/2 teaspoon liquid rennet

1/4 cup water

kosher salt

    

Slowly heat milk to 86 degrees. Remove from heat and stir in the buttermilk. Allow the culture to work for 1 hour. Stir rennet into 1/4 cup water and let rest at least 20 seconds. After the buttermilk has cultured in the milk 1 hour, stir in rennet. Cover and allow to set 30 minutes. 

After 30 minutes, test for a 'clean break'. This means you will see curd breaking away from the whey. If there is no clean break, allow another 30 minutes before testing again.

Once a clean break is seen, cut the curd vertically, horizontally, and at a 45 degree angle. The goal is about 1"curds. Let the curds rest in the whey 10 minutes. Line a large colander with butter muslin, cheese cloth, or a cloth diaper. 

Ladle the curds into the lined colander and let drain there 15 minutes. My colander is in a larger pan to catch the whey which I feed to our chickens. If you have no use for the whey, let it drain in the sink.

Gather the curds in the cloth and knead it, working out as much liquid as possible. 

Place the cloth/curds into a mold or any container that will drain well. My mold came with a cheese kit preciously purchased, but before that I used a plastic container we had punched holes in. 

Flip the cheese every 15 minutes for 1 hour to allow even draining as well as good shape formation.

After that, allow to drain wrapped in the cloth in the mold at room temperature 12 hours.

Flip the cheese and drain another 12 hours.

Remove the cloth. Salt the outer surface of the cheese before setting it to ripen at room temp 24 hours. As you can see, I flip my mold upside down in a bowl resting the cheese on top. This allows for any further drainage that might occur. 

The block of cheese is now cut into cubes and set to cure another 24 hours. If desired, the cheese may be 'crumbed' even further. 

From here, it can be stored in a brine solution; 5 tablespoons salt/20 oz. water. I prefer to marinade my feta in olive oil and herbs, such as herb de provonce. Oil marinated is allowed to set at room temp three days before refrigerating or freezing. 

    There you have it! Farm fresh, wholesome and totally healthy! 

If you have questions, suggestions, or resources to share please feel free to leave them in the comment box or email me at simplyscaife@yahoo.com. 

The Seven Sayings that Make My Husband Make That Face

Even the cat knows what those phrases mean!

    It's no secret; my husband is the 'rock' in our family. Serious and analytical, he is known for slow decision making and detailed plan making. I, however, am not. In our house there are two approaches to every situation and you never know which one will play out first.
    Needless to say, I am the dreamer..the 'pull something together out of nothing'...try and see what happens type. I tend to envision something and jump right in, leaving my 'plan and consider' husband making 'that face'. Before I dive into the project I take the time to share my ideas with my man...and he often shares a particular expression with me.
    All I have to say is:

1. I have been thinking...

2. Last night I woke up with this idea...

3. Don't make a face until I finish explaining...

4. It won't cost anything because we can use whatever we have....

5. How much would it cost to....

6. If you look at it this way it isn't so bad...

7. I can fix it....
   
    This weekend alone I saw 'that face' half a dozen times as we cleaned the garden and plotted new vegetable rows- laughing the entire time because he knew this post was in the works. Sometimes my crazy ideas result in productive means, but more often than not that face he makes was well justified because he had to bail me out and redo it.
    Here's to love, laughter, creativity..and 'that face'. 

A Day of Non-Labor

http://holidays.mrdonn.org/banner_labor_day.GIF

   Friday afternoon I left the office and didn't look back. A week of frustration behind me, it was time to just be home. When I returned to work, I ran head first full of unfettered optimism that I would make a difference and my time spent would have an impact. Those things only happen if others are willing to allow it.  After a long night chat with my man I decided to face the weekend with things that in no way resembled 'office labor', but instead immerse myself back into my homestead. 

   Instead of office and politics, there were recipes to test and cheese to make. The desire to get dirt under my nails drove me to much needed time in my garden and my stalls. Somehow, someway I have to get back to days of turning and hoeing, pulling and plotting. These are the things that keep me centered; the places I need to return to. 

   Here at Scaife Family Farm we wish you a safe and blessed day of non-labor. My garden is my focus today as I am home alone- ready to focus and refresh. 

   

Sunday

Hebrews 5

King James Version (KJV)

5 For every high priest taken from among men is ordained for men in things pertaining to God, that he may offer both gifts and sacrifices for sins:

2 Who can have compassion on the ignorant, and on them that are out of the way; for that he himself also is compassed with infirmity.
3 And by reason hereof he ought, as for the people, so also for himself, to offer for sins.
4 And no man taketh this honour unto himself, but he that is called of God, as was Aaron.
5 So also Christ glorified not himself to be made an high priest; but he that said unto him, Thou art my Son, to day have I begotten thee.
6 As he saith also in another place, Thou art a priest for ever after the order of Melchisedec.
7 Who in the days of his flesh, when he had offered up prayers and supplications with strong crying and tears unto him that was able to save him from death, and was heard in that he feared;
8 Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered;
9 And being made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him;
10 Called of God an high priest after the order of Melchisedec.
11 Of whom we have many things to say, and hard to be uttered, seeing ye are dull of hearing.
12 For when for the time ye ought to be teachers, ye have need that one teach you again which be the first principles of the oracles of God; and are become such as have need of milk, and not of strong meat.
13 For every one that useth milk is unskilful in the word of righteousness: for he is a babe.
14 But strong meat belongeth to them that are of full age, even those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil.