For the Love of Lard

The noble pig, the gift that keeps on giving.  I've heard lots of funny quips about the pig and it's utility.  We use everything except for the squeal.  It's useful from snout to tail.  I can't really think of anything else on the farm that has so much to give.  They have become a euphemism for being unkempt, greedy and unkind.  And yet, they produce one of the foods that every chef covets - bacon.

The best raisin cream pie ever for my dad's 81st birthday

I never thought I would say that I actually enjoy the pigs.  I heard stories as a child about pigs eating farmers whole, leaving nothing but the bones behind.  I've heard my mom tell of a day when the pigs ate her favorite little chair and Uncle Wiggly book which she accidentally left behind in the hog house.  I've never thought to ask why she was reading in the hog house, but it shows the "vicious" nature of these beasts.  Or, maybe they're just incurably curious.  To be totally honest, I find them humorous.  They absolutely live their lives with sweet abandon.  They throw themselves wholeheartedly into everything they do and can find ways to make everything fun.  A feed pan is a toy providing endless entertainment.  They embody the song "Don't Fence Me In".  And when it rains, they don't head for shelter.  A whole new opportunity for fun has just opened up when the rain drops start to fall.

While I appreciate their zeal for life, I also appreciate the gift that they give.  They provide a wider variety of meats than any other animal, along with their hides and their marvelous fat.  I've recently expanded into the world of lard making and enjoy it greatly.  After spending my morning transforming two trash bags of fat into 36 pints of lard, my hands are positively luxurious.  Lard has gotten a bad rap over the years, but it has a long history of many uses including soap and candles as well as making about the best biscuits you can get your hands on!  It does not have the smokiness of bacon or really have any strong taste at all.  It keeps fairly well and can be used to replace more processed oils and shortenings.  Pie crusts, cookies, the list goes on and on.  And we even cooked our pancakes in it last night to celebrate National Pancake Day.

The start of the lard-making process

There seem to be so many questions these days about where our food comes from and I've seen articles on Facebook touting various forms of oil as the best.  Use olive oil, use canola oil, don't use vegetable oils, don't use canola oil, blah, blah, blah.  I don't know what a canola is or how they get oil out of a vegetable.  Everyone has an opinion and I'm always skeptical about those opinions because I feel like it's all based on whose footing the bill.  What I can tell you about lard is that it has one ingredient - lard.    Lard comes from melted pig fat.  The fat is placed in a pot and melted until the fat portion becomes a liquid and separates from the meatier portion, which when cooked long enough becomes cracklings.  The fat is then strained and cooled, forming a solid which can be used in place of solid shortening or melted again to be used as an oil.  I'm not a dietitian, but from what I've read it is higher in Vitamin D, which is used to absorb calcium, than other fat sources and it is a source of healthy saturated fats which do have some health benefits.  It's locally produced and just makes a nice quality food product.

The final product

So with all that being said, not all lard is created equal.  Make sure you purchase lard that requires refrigeration.  The "shelf stable" lard from the grocery store has been stabilized somehow and is not in its purest state.  Purchase lard from the refrigerator section of the grocery store or from your local butcher or farmer (hint, hint).

I'm including my new favorite pie crust recipe which uses just lard as shortening to produce a marvelously flaky crust.  It makes enough dough for 3 crusts and can be frozen in dough rounds to use later.  I was super impressed with this dough and how it held together.  And believe me, I've tried a lot of pie crust recipes!

My Best Pie Crust

Sift 3 cups of flour and 1 teaspoon salt into a food processor.  Add 1 cup lard and pulse until it's crumbly and there are no large pieces of lard remaining.  In a cup or bowl, mix 1 well beaten egg with 3 tablespoons cold water and 1 tablespoon vinegar.  Turn the processor onto a low speed and slowly add the liquid ingredients until the dough starts to come together.  Turn it out on a lightly floured surface and work together into a soft dough.  Divide the dough into 3 portions (about 9 ounces, if you're the precise weighing type!).  Use the dough immediately or wrap in saran wrap and freeze for later use.  Bring to room temperature before rolling out.

If you don't have a food processor, you can just cut the lard into the flour mixture and then stir in the wet ingredients with a fork just until combined.  

The perfect pie crust before going in the oven

If the dough won't come together, slowly add up to 2 tablespoons more cold water until it comes together.  Don't overwork the dough - it makes it very tough.

Finally getting to use my pie weights!

I baked the crust at 425 for about 15-20 minutes, using my pie weights and foil for the first 10 minutes to use for a cream pie or whenever you need a pre-baked crust.  

Ah, Spring

Everyone has their favorite season and favorite holidays.  We have different reasons for our preferences - great memories, well-loved activities, birthdays.  As a life-long Kansas girl, I enjoy all of the seasons and would have a tough time adapting to a place where there was no snow or the leaves didn't turn the radiant variety of colors we get to experience each fall.  For us, fall seems to be a slow time after a summer that is hot and packed full of garden tasks, canning, and fair preparation.  The holiday season provides a fun respite before a cold and dreary time highlighted by lambing season and the start of calving.  But then comes the spring.

So, in case you have yet to figure it out, spring is my personal favorite.  I find it a poetic time, a time of renewal where the dead is stripped away and new life begins.  From the first peeks of green from daffodils and iris leaves and the yellow and purple dots of color from the crocus, I start to feel excitement.  Seed catalogs fill the mailbox, the windows can be open for the first hints of warm breezes and the reintroduction to fresh air.  My brain, which never truly rests, moves into a special gear only used in the spring.

We start to look at the farm with new eyes, refreshed eyes.  We burn the guck off the asparagus patch.  The trimmers come out for pruning the fruit trees.  The dead and dry must go to make room for the new growth. Our 7 year old spends hours looking at poultry catalogs and planning his ideal flocks.  The calves run and leap through the pasture, the lambs jump onto hay piles enjoying the sunshine.

Today was that hint of early spring, and you bet your bippies we were out enjoying it!  I did my annual clueless pruning of the fruit trees and roses.  I really don't know what I'm doing but I make a valiant effort and hope for the best.  We built a new pig pen and moved our future sow herd out of the barn.  They immediately found a tiny wet spot in the new pen and worked together to create a mud pit, luxuriating in the fresh earth.  We released the ducks from their winter quarters and they started scavenging for bugs and other yummies under the hay bales.  The asparagus patch was burned, the remnants of last year's herb garden removed and I had dirty feet.  I love having dirty feet.  It's a sign of a good day.

So tonight we will rest after a day well-lived.  The renaissance of spring has begun and I can't wait.  Maybe I'll kick up my now-clean feet and get lost in picking a new pear tree or comparing green bean seeds while enjoying the last of the breeze before it gets too chilly.  Or maybe I will go to bed early and dream of green grass and the joy of spring that lies ahead.

Valentine's Day Confessions

I have a few things to confess.  First, I asked for a mop for a Valentine's gift from my husband.  A mop - like the thing you use to clean your kitchen floor.  And I really wanted it, with all my heart. Secondly, I still lick the beaters when I cook.  I really love cake batter, frosting and cookie dough. Often times, I like it better before it's baked and I've yet to die of egg poisoning.  Finally, as strange as this might sound, I find many blog posts annoying.

I should probably expand on that last one, since I'm writing a blog.  I have two issues with them.  My first issue is that, as a general rule, I barely make it through a day keeping my family fed and still alive.  Looking at people's perfect photos, creative ideas and lengthy detailed descriptions of a cup of soup make me feel inadequate.  My reality is that we had leftover pizza for lunch and I'm typing this one handed with a sleeping child on my lap.  I'm still waiting on a chance to shower.  The other reason is that I am essentially a cut-to-the-chase girl.  I'm a good cook and feel like I'm relatively smart.  I know how to gather ingredients, measure things and put stuff in a pan.  I don't need each step with pictures to scroll through before I find the recipe.  Just give me the recipe.  That's what I need.  I believe that most things that happen are life are actually fairly simple when it all shakes out.

I've not been great at keeping up with this blog, in part because of the demands of everyday life.  The other part is just knowing that I can't compete with all the fanciness others can pull off.  So today I will embrace me.  I'm a farm wife, mom of some pretty special kids, home school teacher, foster parent, chef, laundress, dietitian, business owner and not-so-merry maid.  I will try to share more often, and I will just have to be me.  Be kind.  I'm guessing many of you are more like me than we all like to confess!

So let me share with you a little Valentine's gift.  Here is our family-favorite chocolate cake and some variations you can use to adapt it.  I made it today in a heart shape for a Valentine's treat, but you can make it however!  It's a great "hip pocket" recipe.  And don't forget to lick the beaters!

Best Ever Chocolate Cake

2 1/2 c. flour

2 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 c. cocoa

1 tablespoon white vinegar

1 cup milk

1 cup butter, softened

2 cups sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla

1 cup hot water or hot coffee

Preheat oven to 350.  Stir vinegar into milk and set aside.  In a mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar until fluffy.  Add eggs to butter mixture and beat on high until lighter in color.  In a separate bowl, sift flour, soda, cocoa and salt.  Add vanilla to milk mixture.  Alternately add the sifted dry ingredients and the milk mixture to the creamed butter mixture in the mixer.  Once all ingredients are blended well, slowly pour hot coffee or hot water into batter and continue to beat until well mixed.  

Pour batter into greased pans and bake at 350 for 40 minutes for a 9 x 13, 30 minutes for 9 inch pans and 15-20 minutes for cupcakes.  This batter makes around 3 dozen cupcakes.  For the heart cake, I used a 9 inch square and a 9 inch round pan.  Cool cakes on rack and frost with your favorite frosting. 

Here's a couple of good chocolate frosting recipes:

Easy Mocha Frosting

Cream 1/4 cup softened butter in a mixer.  Sift 3 tablespoons cocoa powder and 2 cups powdered sugar in a separate bowl.  Add slowly to the creamed butter.  Add 1 tsp. vanilla and several tablespoons of cooled coffee to make a frosting that is a spreadable consistency.  Make sure the coffee is cooled or it will melt the butter.  This makes enough frosting for a 9 x 13 cake, but needs to be doubled if you like a thicker frosting layer or are doing cupcakes or a two layer cake.

Deluxe Chocolate Frosting

Beat an egg with a mixer until fluffy.  Sift 2 cups powdered sugar and 1/4 teaspoon salt in a separate bowl.  Add powdered sugar mixture slowly to the egg and beat until smooth.  Add 1/3 cup softened butter, one tablespoon at a time and 2 ounces of melted and cooled unsweetened chocolate and 1 teaspoon vanilla.  This frosting is awesome because it doesn't get "crusty" and dry like other frosting. I doubled this one to use for the heart cake.  I also used it on my nephew's birthday cake.  And it is super creamy and chocolaty.  

The Struggle Is Real...

Ah, the quaint vision of the farm.  The serene pastures with happily grazing cattle.  White-woolen sheep in small groups bah-hing for their frolicking lambs to come in to the huddle.  The soft cluck, cluck, cluck of the glossy feathered hens pecking through the yard looking for tasty snacks.  The contented pig wallowing in the mud.  The jolly barnyard, right?  All is calm, all is...

Not really this way!  I've seen paintings of these farms.  I've seen pictures of them in books.  I've seen them depicted on television.  Smiling farmers and their wives carrying buckets of feed to contented critters and toting filled-to-the-brim buckets of eggs and fresh veggies back to the cute little farm house with the checkered table cloth.  Oh, how I wish it was all so glorious.  But the struggle is real, my friends.

Sleeping in?  Nope.  Well, you might get to sleep in, but you will always pay.  I can't count the number of times when the early morning knock on the door pops us into consciousness with the panicked question of "What's out now?"  The 6:00 a.m. phone calls from our neighbors telling us the cows are in their yard.  The late night barking of the dog alerting us to the cattle who are now nibbling the grass in our orchard.  These moments have given us opportunity to bond with our neighbors and make some great friendships.  Early morning walks with the folks up the road bringing the herd home provide quality moments that will last a lifetime.  It even gave our dog and their dog a chance for a "play date".

My favorite (I say half jokingly), was the Saturday when the cows went on quite the expedition.  My parents had to come stay with the kids while we went after our cattle who had gone over a half mile away and joined another pasture of another neighbor's cattle.  It ended up being a several hour and multiple neighbor process of getting them home.  As we were working on sorting our herd from theirs, the other farmer commented on being glad it was someone else's cattle this time instead of his! My feet were blistered as I left in such a hurry I didn't put on socks with my boots.  I needed my coffee.  We ALL needed coffee.  We had just gotten the cattle back in their pen and I looked at our neighbor's t-shirt which read, "Let Me Drop Everything I'm Doing and Solve Your Problem".  I cracked up.  I love a good irony and that definitely qualified!  Thankfully he was willing to do that for us.

Enjoying a late dinner out?  Nope.  Things need to be fed and if I could pinpoint the testiest of the farm animals it would be the pig.  You'd think those things could read a clock.  Their snouts might be the strongest thing in nature and they aren't afraid to use them for evil.  They lift panels with a single motion and are on the run, their babies trailing happily after.  We even have one sow who has learned to make the grain bin a self-serve feeding option.  You've gotta be there and you've gotta be there on time or there is payback coming.

t.

This is Mary, the very independent pig, getting her own breakfast.  
I even think she might be laughing at us.

 

I love seeing the sheep on grass, until I realize it's actually my backyard and not the pasture they're eating.  Luckily sheep are easy to put back.  God was not necessarily kind when He referred to us as sheep in the Bible.  They will gladly trail any bucket - whether filled with rocks or corn.

Vacations?  Ha.  Once every three years, if we're lucky.  But that's a post for another day.

Add into this equation 10:30 p.m. dinners, missed family reunions at wheat harvest (although this might have been calculated), postponing gift opening on Christmas Eve due to frozen cattle waterers, spending snowy nights pulling people from ditches and missed church services and meetings due to ewes in need of aid, rampant livestock escapees and who knows what other surprises.

But it's funny on the farm because there is the frenzy of fur and feathers when the feeding begins.  Everyone gets excited and the farm becomes a noisy place.  Then there's the calm after the storm.  Swishing tails, hens nestled back into their nesting holes, moms nuzzling babies, babies calmly nursing.  That's what you see in pictures.  What you don't see, is the insanity that ensues just before that picture-perfect moment.  But it's our insanity and we kind of love it, in our own way.

As I sit here typing this, I note the farm silence.  All is fed.  All is well.  For a few hours.

What is Prairie Center anyway?

My husband and I came to the realization a couple of years ago that we are old souls.  We like old things - music, furniture, books, history, people.  We seem to fit better with that group and enjoy learning about the past.  Even as a teen I enjoyed sitting in my grandparents' garage going through an old trunk and hearing stories of life long ago.  One example of these tales is the legend of Prairie Center, Kansas.

Growing up, I often heard my grandma talk about their life at Prairie Center.  If you take Edgerton Road north until you can go no further and look straight ahead you will see its remains.  The grass-covered prairie dotted with small, evenly space buildings is all that marks that location.  Where cows now graze, once was the land of a farming community called Prairie Center, Kansas.

My great x 3 grandparents Jonathan and Irena Gordon were early residents of this community which was founded in 1860.  It was made mostly of farmers and had a population that ranged between 35 and 50, according to some sources. It had many farms and a few businesses including a cider mill, creamery and a school.  There were two churches - a Quaker church and a Methodist church.  For Jonathan and Irena, it was the start of a new life after leaving their home in North Carolina.  For my grandparents, it was where they met and fell in love as a pastor's daughter and a handsome farmer.  It was where their first two children were born.  After passing farmland from one generation of Gordon to the next, this part of the family story came to abrupt halt in 1942.

Uncle Carl outside on the farm
at Prairie Center

In May of 1942, a judge ordered that the town of Prairie Center be purchased by the government and made into an ammunition plant, the Sunflower Ordnance Works, to help with the efforts of World War II.  These families were rapidly displaced into other communities, the churches were moved, livestock was sold and a flurry of activity changed the landscape of this area forever.  I remember my family telling about how they had 30 days to find a new place and move.  For my grandparents, it led to a new exciting chapter in their life where they were able to buy their own farm land and move into their own home, separate from my great grandparents.  Not that this wasn't a difficult time.  They told of milking at Prairie Center in the morning and milking at the new farm at night.  I'm sure it was a wild and stressful time and most likely filled with sadness as an entire community dispersed.  It's difficult to even imagine a town falling off the map that way.  To think of finding a new place for your family in such a short span of time, especially for farmers.

My grandma's father was the pastor at the Friends Church in Prairie Center.  As things began changing in the community, the church was moved to the corner of 143rd and Edgerton Road and then eventually into Gardner.  A portion of the Gardner Friends Church is the original structure from Prairie Center.  My Gordon great-grandparents purchased the land where the church now sits at the west edge of Gardner.  They lived in the house on that property until their death in the 1950's.

Creating our Prairie Center Meats company is a nod to those who used to inhabit this community, to our family heritage.  While the folks moved on, many of those relationships continued, friendships remained.  And some of those changes led to other life changes that have impacted others for generations - including a young Lefmann boy who met a little Gordon girl at a function at that same church that had traveled so many miles from its beginnings.  Deep roots, my friends.  Deep roots make us able to endure the winds of change.  Prairie Center is my deep roots and these deep roots will keep us here for many years to come.

Diggin' the Chicks

It's chicken day!  Our chicks have grown from fluffy cuteness to big ugly birdy-ness.  We (meaning not me) loaded 93 chickens into crates, drove an hour and it's time to unload.   Again, not a me job.  I just do the cooking.  I'm hanging out with Liddy watching a gentle "snowstorm" of what I'm assuming is chicken fluff.  Jack has gone off to play somewhere after talking with the nice Amish gentleman who works here.  It's always an adventure living on the farm and this is our first time wading into the meat chicken world.   I'm excited to try them and am hoping they are super tasty.  I will keep everyone updated on how this all works!

Chicken Quote from my mom:  "If you fry one of those up in a cast iron skillet in lard with cream gravy, that'll take me back to my childhood!'  I think that's a trip I'd like to take along with her!

Our Border Collie, Kit, keeping an eye on her new little friends when they arrived in March.

Kit is completely obsessed with chicks!  I caught her in the tanks with the chicks several times - just watching them.  

The almost final product!  We will pick them back up next Tuesday.

The Reason I Learned to Cook

We definitely all have skills and talents in particular areas.  My husband, Chad, always says life is as  much about learning what you DON'T want to do as it is learning what you do want to do.  Life has provided many of those opportunities for me and I had a great reminder of one of them this morning.

My parents had cattle when I was young and I feel as if our fencing was less than stellar.  I have that sense because it seemed as though our cattle spent a great deal of time wandering freely, rather than staying safely behind the fence.  Maybe we had free-range cattle before it was en vogue?

As a farm kid, I had the opportunity (said sarcastically) to help with farm tasks.  This was not a strength of mine.  Really, I was very bad at everything farm related.  I was given a chance to cut cockle-burs out of the soybeans to earn some money.  I bailed after about 10 minutes because my "toes hurt".  I would like to add at this point that this was a legitimate complaint because I did have ingrown toe-nails as a kid.  I had a brief stint as an animal rights activist when it came to helping with de-horning the calves.   Once I had a chance to help do something with a tractor and some cut hay.  The fact that I don't even know what it was called should indicate how well that particular activity went.  All I know is that whatever I did to "help" required my dad and brother to do it all over again!  I hid pea seeds in my dresser drawer to avoid having to plant them all and I totally hated getting up early on my summer break to walk through the corn patch picking sweet corn to sell with all those dew-laden tassles and corn leaves whapping me in the face.  Picking the wild blackberries with all the mosquitoes and thorns in the back thicket of the Bradfield Place was miserable.  But the worst for me was when the cows got out.

I was small, the cows were big.  When you are 8, cows are big.  Unfortunately, when you are 39, cows are still big.  I remember standing in front of those beasts who stared me straight in the eye and I'm certain they smelled my fear.  My dad would yell, "Be big!  Be a fence!"  I stretched my 8-year-old arms as big as I could and I think they just laughed at me, in their bovine way.  I have to confess, that if they made a move in my direction, it was over.  There was no being big, I was done!  Go ahead, Madame Bovine, have your way!  My life was too precious to stand my ground.

There is a story that is part of family lore, and I honestly don't remember it but enjoy hearing it told.  Apparently, there was one day that we were once again rustling up the loose cows and I had had enough.  After being told for the seemingly millionth time to "be big", I said I was done and walked home.  I have no idea where I came up with the nerve to do that, but it ended up being a good move for everyone.  It was from this point on  that I learned to cook.  This was my contribution to the farm.  Everyone else would do farm-y things and I would stay home and make sure meals were ready.  I had the best time planning menus from my mom's recipe box, developing meal themes and even decorating table-scapes to go with them.  It was a total win-win for all of us.  I learned to work within my strengths and my absence was a most excellent blessing to those who actually had work to do on the farm.

This memory came back to me this morning as I was sitting at the kitchen table.  I looked up from posting pictures to Facebook (you know, that thing you do when you should be cleaning the house to get ready for Easter guests?), when I looked out the windows and saw 5 black Angus steers in the backyard.  Chad was in the shower and I felt the fear of my childhood well up inside.  I frantically pounded on the walls to our bedroom, since this was the one morning he had locked the bedroom door.  "The cows are in the backyard!" I yelled.  He yells back, "Are they just in the back?"  I yelled, "So far!"  And then he yells, "Well, just make sure they don't end up in the front!"

Crap, I say to myself.  Here we go again!  So I go out front, and sure enough one had broke off from the herd and was in our neighbor's field heading towards the road.  I kept my distance, but flailed my arms in an attempt to steer him (no pun intended) away from the road.  He headed across the front yard to catch up with his buddies.  I continued to stay back a safe distance and occasionally pulled out my dad's tricks - be big, be a fence, flail your arms wildly and clap then yell "sa-boss" which is supposed to be the magic word that makes a cow obedient.  They stayed contained but obviously did not consider me to be an authority figure.  Soon Chad came running across the yard carrying a bucket in an attempt to lure them back in the pen.  You could see them weighing their options - grass, corn, grass, corn...  They of course chose grass and started to move towards me.  As Chad poured the bucket of corn in the feed trough, they did opt to head toward the pen but then stopped in the middle of the driveway at the pile of corn he had spilled in his haste to get into the pen.  He yells at me, "Walk up!  Just walk up on them!"

I can do this, I say to myself.  I take a step towards the leader of the pack and he looks up at me.  Our eyes lock and I feel that panic.  Chad yells again, "Just walk up on him!"  Deep breath.  I move another step closer, then another step.  His dark cow eyes followed my every step.  Then, slowly he turns and magically leads the herd back into the pen.  My sweet husband pats me on the back and says, "Good dog!"

I did it!  I conquered my fear and helped on the farm.  I'd like to say I won't have that feeling of terror if it happens again, but I can't say I'm there just yet.  But for now all is well and the steers are where I like them - behind a fence.

So, in honor of my learning to cook and to celebrate cows behind fences, I'm going to share a family recipe, one that my Grandma Audrey made for her brood when they were young and passed on to the rest of us.  I hope you enjoy them!

Congo Squares

2/3 c. melted butter, cooled slightly

2 1/4 c. brown sugar

3 eggs

2 3/4 c. flour

2 1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

1 c. chopped, toasted nuts (optional)

1 c. chocolate chips or butterscotch chips

Preheat over to 350 degrees.  Mix melted butter and brown sugar with a mixer.  Add the eggs, one at a time, beating until mixture changes color (it will get lighter brown).  Add dry ingredients and mix until well blended.  Stir in nuts (if desired) and chips of your choice.  Pour batter into a greased 9x13 pan.  Bake 30-40 minutes until browned and set on top (not jiggly).  Cool and cut into squares.  

My grandma has a note on this recipe in our family cook book that says:

One of our old family favorites and used often.