Annabessacook Farm

Happy New Year

2012-01-01T08:15:00.001-08:00

Happy Fertility And Rebirth

2011-04-24T06:57:00.000-07:00

Spring is here, there's no mistaking, farmers tilling soil from coast to coast. Today, Christians celebrate Easter. Farmers celebrate new beginnings. Miracle lambs and baby goats. Seedlings poking through wet soil. Pullets dropping eggs like rain.

Enjoy your celebrations.

Spring Babies

2011-04-16T06:39:00.000-07:00

A slideshow of baby goats Stew and Boter, and our surprise lamb Mushroom, born in the rain and mud. Best viewed in full screen mode.

My Mother's Cake

2010-12-26T10:21:00.001-08:00

When I was about seven or eight, I began to teach myself how to bake from recipes in the original Betty Crocker Cookbook. The paperback culinary bible was so old, so worn out, some of the pages disintegrated between my fingers upon turning. The whole thing had to be held together with a pair of crisscrossed rubber bands.

I made a yellow sheet cake first. I didn't understand the concept of creaming the butter and sugar together. It turned out like sweet cornbread. My mother said it tasted good, though. Guess she wanted to encourage me to keep trying. And so I did.

She used to come home from work every afternoon and ask me what I had learned to bake. Looking forward to tasting whatever it was. It must have been summer for I wasn't in school. And there I was heating up an already hot kitchen with a child's experiments. She never once complained. Eventually, I figured out the art of building a cake from scratch that was moist and light and downright sinful. I perfected an old fashioned burnt sugar caramel cake and then had the nerve to figure out how to make hand-churned caramel pecan ice cream to go with it. The combination became my mother's favorite a most requested dessert.

Yesterday, I made my mother's cake for the first time since August 2001. I wanted to be with her for Christmas to see how she's faring since receiving the news that she's now facing a mortal challenge in her bone marrow. Still too exhausted from the year, I wasn't able to make that happen. So I made her cake instead. Talked to her over the phone just as I was spreading the batter into the pans. Because of her diabetes, she can't have any sweets anymore, but she sounded pleased that I was building her heaven anyway.

We hosted a dinner at the farm for six. Before devouring my mother's cake (alongside a warm apple pie in a pâte brisée to die for), we indulged in a dinner of crab bisque, grilled lamb chops, roasted rabbit in Dijon cream (a repeat from Thanksgiving too good to wait another year for), wild black and mahogany rice, and steamed haricot vert tossed in sesame oil and orange zest.

Hope your Christmas celebrations included friends, family, peace, and lots of love.

Burnt Sugar Caramel Cake

For the burnt sugar syrup:
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup hot tap water

Dump the sugar in a skillet over medium-low heat. Shake the pan to spread the sugar and then let it melt, shaking again to keep the syrup browning evenly. Once it becomes the deep bronze color of an old copper penny and begins to smoke, gradually add the hot water. The sugar will get all bubbly and smoke even more. If you stir the syrup, use a metal spoon and stir just enough to mix the water so all the sugar dissolves, which takes about 8 minutes. Remove from heat, set aside, and let cool. They syrup will thicken as it cools.

For the cake:
3 cups unbleached cake flour, sifted
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
2 1/2 teaspoons double acting baking powder
3/4 cup butter, softened
1 1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs, separated
2/3 cup burnt sugar syrup
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cup sour raw milk or buttermilk, room temperature

Preheat oven to 350. Sift together flour, salt, soda, and baking powder. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, cream butter, adding sugar gradually until light and fluffy. Add one egg yolk at the time, beating thoroughly after each addition. Add the vanilla. Stir in cooled burnt sugar syrup.

Alternately mix the flour and the dairy into the batter, beating gently until smooth.

Beat egg whites on high until stiff but not dry. Fold into batter.

Spread batter evenly in two 8-inch greased and floured cake pans. (I add a circle of wax paper to the bottom of each pan to ensure a moist texture.) Bake for 20 - 25 minutes until the centers rise and a toothpick comes out virtually clean. Remove from oven and cool on wire rack for 5 minutes. Invert pans on rack to remove cake. Let cool completely.

For the caramel frosting:
3/4 cup butter
2 cups light brown sugar, firmly packed
Dash of salt
3/4 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted

Mix butter, brown sugar and salt in a saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a boil. Let bubble for 15 minutes, stirring constantly. Mix in cream and cook for another 10 minutes, stirring.

Remove from heat, stir in vanilla. Transfer to a stainless steel bowl. Beating at high speed, gradually add confectioner's sugar until it comes to a spreading consistency. Sparingly add more cream if necessary.

Garnish frosted cake with pecans.

Cross-posted to Fumbling Toward Divinity

Let There Be Food

2010-09-13T12:59:00.001-07:00

Over Labor Day weekend, while selling raffle tickets in front of Audette’s, a fellow Rotarian told me not to bother dropping off any fresh organic produce at the Winthrop Food Pantry for the next three weeks because it would be closed. My heart sank. In these difficult times, how can we allow our community food pantry to go dark for even a single week?

On Labor Day morning, my 13-and-a-half-year-old dog J.B. dragged himself into Con Leche the Goat’s stall and lay down on the pine shavings and hay. He looked like he was going to die. He hadn’t eaten in days, refused all food, even his treats, his skeleton pressed through his sagging skin like a warning. We were so sure he was going to be dead by nightfall that we dug his grave out back under the giant weeping willow tree. I could hardly breathe.

The next morning, J.B. almost ate my hand. Not rabid, but ravenous. Didn't feel right to call the vet, so the night before I took him BBQ ribs and brown rice. He devoured them. Early morning, the same. Late morning, I took him a hamburger on a bun and while Con Leche the Goat looked on, he ate it so fast, he almost ate my hand.

Groaned.

Like he meant it.

Any creature that wants to eat wants to live.

Food is life.

We cannot allow a single person among us to go hungry for a single day.

My fellow Rotarian told me that the people who currently run the pantry, who generously give of their time so people can live, are ready to move on but have stayed around because no one else in the community has stepped up.

Well, I’ll step up. And I’m sure I can recruit a team of volunteers to step up with me. We can run the Winthrop Food Pantry with the same diligence as the current volunteers because we must not allow a single person among us to go hungry.

In the meanwhile, if you rely on the kindness of others for sustenance in these difficult times, then please consider Annabessacook Farm at 192 Annabessacook Road your adjunct food pantry. If you want to call ahead, call 377-FARM. If not, just stop by at your convenience, any day of the week, and take whatever food you need. If we’re not home and there’s nothing on the farmer’s porch to your liking, feel free to walk out to the field behind the big red barn and pick whatever you like.

People who want to live need to eat. And there’s no reason whatsoever that we can’t come together as a community and feed them.

::

We're In The Boston Sunday Globe

2010-08-30T03:21:00.000-07:00

This article, entitled With a map and a mission: 500 miles, 10 days, 1 bike, appeared in the Boston Globe today. It features Annabessacook Farm. It promotes Annabessacook Farm. At least I think it does. And it's very well-written. Yes. I remember the biker/writer. She really did enjoy her breakfast. Took some trail mix with her for the road. Simply fabulous that she would write about her experience here so.

The part about us goes like this:

The lakes region is within a day’s ride of Portland. Had I not gotten lost it would have been a gentle start. I spent my first night in Winthrop, a faded resort town that straddles Annabessacook and Maranacook lakes, a good jumping-off point for the area. Serious bike tourers camp out, but I was glad to sink into a mattress every night and start the day with a feast. Friendly Annabessacook Farm Bed and Breakfast served a particularly fresh spread: homemade goats’ milk yogurt, granola, and just-laid eggs. Another way that cycling beats driving: You can eat all you want.

We do like to fill up our guests with lots of hearty, wholesome, homemade food.

Don't you want some?

Come and get it.

Fried Green Tomatoes

2010-07-25T13:24:00.001-07:00

Slice thinly two or three fat green tomatoes. Season with salt and pepper, cover and leave alone for half hour. Less if time is tight. Heat a wide skillet with 1/2 inch olive oil. Crack a farm fresh egg, beat it, add a dollop of raw milk and blend. Add some dried herbs, some Old Bay and a little more salt and pepper. Dip tomato slices in the liquid and shake in a paper bag with just enough flower to cover them all. Drop slices into hot oil and cook on both sides till golden brown or darker if desired. Drain on kitchen towel and enjoy hot or cold. Serves two. Or one if you love them as much as I.

The End Of The Rainbow

2010-05-18T14:10:00.000-07:00

Enjoy a visit to our restored 1810 farmhouse. We are located just ten miles west of Augusta and 15 miles northeast of Lewiston. The farm, one of the earliest in Winthrop, is set on 25 acres with lake frontage on Lake Annabessacook, one of the deep water lakes of the Winthrop Lakes Region.

We feature an organic farm stand with a cornucopia of vegetables, fruit, and herbs, community supported agriculture shares, and community garden plots for rent. We grow all of our produce by hand with the occasional tractor for initial tillage and a rototiller for cultivation. A garden rake, hoe and pitchfork, a mosquito net as necessary, a green thumb or two, and as many daylight hours as the sun above can muster is all we count on to produce our harvest. We also sell free range farm fresh eggs.

As the Winthrop Lakes Region's premier bed & breakfast, you won't go wrong with a short or extended stay. In the summer, enjoy private swimming, boating, and fishing at the lake, hiking, or reclining in the sun by the pond. Winter brings cross-country skiing, sledding, snowmobiling, or day trips for downhill skiing. Other nearby activities include golfing, antique shopping, and a state museum.

Annabessacook Farm is ideal for weddings, receptions, retreats, family reunions, meetings, location shoots, and other events. Any of our rooms may be rented for extended stays, perfect for executive lodging, seasonal workers, government employees, or even film cast and crew. The farm is non-smoking and pets may be boarded in the barn during your stay.

(Click on photos to enlarge.)

Our comfortable home includes two parlors, a large living room, three fireplaces, a breakfast porch with a wall of windows, and a huge antique stove in the kitchen which seems to warm the whole house. We have artistic and colorful decor, insterspersed with early American furnishings and collectibles from Africa and the Far East.

"It's so comfortable here. I needed a break from all the stresses of the big city and wanted to try something new. Your B&B is the best kept secret in Maine."

-- Janine

"Your TLC made for a most welcome getaway weekend... Thank you for your warm welcome and superb cooking."

-- Andrew & Samuel

"Words can't express the myriad of experiences at Annabessacook Farm. Your energy & creativity has found the perfect environment... Our spiritual & physical souls were nurtured & healed. We plan to return!"

-- Carole & Les

Come discover your pot of gold.

Collard Greens

2010-03-14T10:00:00.000-07:00

NOVEMBER 2009

FOR TWO years, they didn't have garden-fresh collard greens.

For all of my childhood in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, my father grew a small garden in our back yard that yielded incredible produce. We didn't call it organic gardening back then. There was no need for such a description. It was what it was: gardening. No chemical fertilizers, no pesticides.

Well. Almost. One year -- I can't remember how old I was but I was in elementary school -- the insects were so bad, my father chose to shake garden dust over all his yet-to-fruit tomato plants, which were being devoured by hornworms. He cried. He was afraid he would poison his family. Afraid that we would starve if we didn't have any tomatoes to eat fresh or can for later so he chose drastic action. But he left alone the collards and other leafy greens. "I can't shake no dust on those. They go directly into our mouths, so we're going to have to pick the bugs off with our fingers."

::

Summer 2009, I stood amidst my collards in one of the many gardens on our 25-acre organic farm in central Maine talking to my pregnant sister on the phone. I told Gina that my collards weren't growing as well as I'd like. That because of the unceasing rain the insects were winning.

That's when she told me.

In the last two years of our father's life, when the pancreatic cancer made him too weak to tend his garden, she and my mother had no fresh collards. The rose chafers, Japanese beetles, cabbage worms and whatever else loves this bittersweet brassica had devoured the leaves down to skeletons.

"He simply had no energy, Craig. And we couldn't help because it would have been an admission that we knew he was sick, and since he never told us, we couldn't let him know that we knew."

I simply could not fathom my family back home in Milwaukee went two years without Daddy's collards. Could not fathom why my sister had never told me about it till just then. Could not fathom why my mother had never told me about it at all.

I stood amidst my insect-infested collards and wept.

Losing my father on March 14, 2007, a month to the day after he turned 87, began the most transformative right of passage in my life to date. The man who taught me about discipline, respect, honor, dignity; about how to rise up after being knocked down; how to dream great dreams; how to love; how to live had left this world and left a hole in my soul as big as the lake on which my farm sits.

Two years later, in early spring, when I finally came up from under, I saw my father walk from the side of the road right up the gravel driveway and into our house. I don’t know if I was sleeping or awake, but I saw him nonetheless. Later that day, I stood before the unquilted stretch of land and told my husband of my plans to become a bona fide farmer. He thought I was crazy. Said it was too much. That I'd never keep to it.

Love a challenge. If you tell me I can't do something, I'm determined to prove you wrong.

Five months later, I opened a farm stand on the side of the road right in front of our house and began selling the succulent vegetables our land offered up.

Now, I'm addicted to growing things. I've turned a mere half-acre of our farm into a sweep of organic gardens. Composted manure from around the barnyard, a small tiller for cultivation, a few farm hands, a garden rake, hoe and pitchfork, a mosquito net as necessary (which is always, much as those critters love me), and as many daylight hours as the sun above can muster is all we count on to produce our harvest.

Now, I can't stop opening a new patch of earth to plant some new variety of heirloom tomatoes to round out the cornucopia from Annabessacook Farm: arugula, beets, Belgian endive, collards, kale, mesclun, mustard greens, romaine, Swiss chard, spinach, turnips, corn (the sweetest in the area, say my customers), carrots, celery, fennel, golden beets, radish, basil, chives, cilantro, parsley, rosemary, sage, tarragon, thyme, leeks, onions, scallions, blackeye peas, okra, green beans, soybeans, sugar peas, several varieties of peppers, summer squash, winter squash, gourds, pumpkins, cucumbers, eggplant, asparagus, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, kohlrabi, Brussels sprouts, blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, wild black raspberries, cantaloupe, honey dew, watermelon, and anything else I can trick to grow in this northern climate. Can't stop. As though all the energy my father didn't have at the end of his life has fueled me to work from sun up to sundown, planting, weeding, hauling, turning, picking, packaging, selling. Eating.

I'm even making fresh cheese and yogurt and ice cream from the goat milk hubby massages out of our goat every evening after his day job. Baking breads and quiches and pies and cakes and hearty cereals. Preparing meals for B&B guests, private dinner banquets for neighbors and friends.

And we’ve got two new greenhouses. Can't wait to see what they can produce in winter. Before long, we’ll be growing our own wheat, making our own honey, and slaughtering our own meat.

::

I stand on my father's shoulders. He whispers music over mine as I open the earth, loving her--tenderly, deeply, desperately--and whisks mosquitoes away from my ears so I can hear his music more clearly.

He shows me the way.

I've never been more committed to anything in my life. Never been happier. There is simply nothing like living off the land and nothing simpler. Knowing exactly where your food comes from because you produce it yourself.

My customers appreciate every bag of spinach, jar of yogurt, crown of broccoli they get from here. And I appreciate them. Their concerns and requests, their own gardening triumphs and failures. Our exchange of ideas and recipes and tricks. I never would have imagined I would become such an integral part of a local food chain. Never would have imagined I could sell thousands of dollars of organic produce and prepared foods in a single season without vending at a farmer’s market or supplying a restaurant. Never would have imagined folks would stop by simply to thank me for doing what I do even though they buy their produce at another local farm. I think now of Michael Pollan's words from his must-read book In Defense Of Food, “In a short food chain… [f]ood reclaims its story, and some of its nobility, when the person who grew it hands it to you.”

So when I told one of our regular customers the story of my father's collards, my sister's recent heartbreaking confession, we all shared a moment of spontaneous silence in his memory. And I swear to God, within a week, my collards were on their way to the biggest, sweetest, greenest collards I'd ever grown.

::

Cross posted to Fumbling Toward Divinity

Sweet Potato Pie

2009-10-17T09:46:00.000-07:00

About Sweet Potatoes

For my money, sweet potatoes are one of the most, if not the most, versatile foods you can buy at a North American farmer's market or grocery store. You can boil them, bake them, mash them, hash them; puree, roast, French-fry, scallop or candy them; bake them in muffins, pies, cakes, biscuits, bread, souffles and casseroles; thicken stews and sauces, sweeten greens, tenderize meat with them.

And, yes, you can grow them north of the Mason Dixon Line. If you can start them early indoors and keep the field plants warm with mulch and compost, especially during the early tuber initiation stage, you'll be good to go. Your best bet, of course, would be to cultivate a local variety. The plant, which looks like a bush bean variety, flowers like a morning glory, to which it's distantly related. Some varieties have deep purple leaves and are grown purely for ornamental purposes.

The plant is native to Central America and unrelated to the potato. In most European countries, sweet potatoes are hard to find unless the country boasts an immigrant population who traditionally eat the tuber.

Many folks in the United States refer to sweet potatoes as yams, but this is misnomer. Yams belong to a completely different plant species than the orange-, white-, yellow- or purple-fleshed sweet potato and remains an important crop around the world, especially in Africa and the Caribbean. They are rarely found in the States.

Select unblemished, firm tubers with small soft spots and no broken skin. Do not refrigerate them. Ever.

Sweet Potato Pie

4 large sweet potatoes, washed and scrubbed
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) butter
1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tbsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
3/4 tsp. ginger
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. lemon zest
1/2 tsp. orange zest
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. cardamom
Splash of fresh squeezed orange juice
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cup heavy cream
4 large fresh eggs, room temperature
3 9-inch deep dish pie crusts

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Place sweet potatoes directly on middle rack and bake until juices run and potato skins separate from flesh, about an hour. Place strips of aluminum foil on the bottom of the oven to catch the juice.

Remove potatoes from oven and let cool until comfortable to handle. Pull off peels and place potatoes in large boil. Add butter and mash. Add sugar, spices, zest, orange juice, and vanilla extract and mix well. For a smooth, custard-like pie, transfer filling to a food processor, puree for five minutes, and return to bowl. Adjust spices and sweetness to taste. (I prefer a sweet pie, so I tend to sweeten the filling to taste with pure maple syrup at this point.) Using a hand beater on medium high, slowly add cream and beat until smooth. Add eggs one at a time and beat until smooth after each egg. Pour filling into crusts and bake until center of the pie rises like a souffle and the edges crack, about 60-90 minutes depending on your oven.

Remove pies and place on racks to cool. Serve plain or with fresh whipped cream flavored with your choice of liqueur, essence, extract (all the above) or vanilla ice cream. Of course, if you want to be ghetto/country, you can always pull out a vat of Cool Whip and smother a slice with it, but I suggest you read the ingredients on the vat and stay as far away from that mess as possible.

Pies may be stored at room temperature for two days, in the refrigerator for 10 days, or frozen for up to 6 months. If freezing, wrap pies tightly with several layers of food plastic, place in air-tight freezer bags, and store in freezer as far away from the door as possible. The crust will separate from the filling on the sides when thawed out. You won't notice till you plate a slice.

::

The Edwardian

2008-10-14T13:07:00.000-07:00

(Click on all photos to enlarge.)

King Bed, Private Bath, Large Shower, Wheelchair Accessible

$110 - $135

Rates are exclusive of 7% tax and subject to change without notice.
Ranges based on season. Discounts & extended rates available.
Open year-round. Reservations required.
We accept Master Card, Visa, cash, and Traveler's Checks.
Arrival time: 2:00 pm; Departure time: 11:00 am.
Fax and wireless Internet services available.

The Farmhouse Rooms

2008-10-14T13:00:00.000-07:00

(Click on photos to enlarge.)

The Blue Room
Queen Bed, Shared Bath

$75 - $95

The Purple Room
Queen Bed, Shared Bath

$75 - $95

The Ivory Room
Double Bed, Single Bed, Shared Bath

$75 - $95

Antique Clawfoot Tub

Marble Shower with Rain Showerhead

Rates are exclusive of 7% tax and subject to change without notice.
Ranges based on season. Discounts & extended rates available.
Open year-round. Reservations required.
We accept Master Card, Visa, cash, and Traveler's Checks.
Arrival time: 2:00 pm; Departure time: 11:00 am.
Fax and wireless Internet services available.

The Pond Suite

2008-10-14T12:53:00.000-07:00

(Click on photos to enlarge.)

King Bed; Sitting Area; Library; Private Bath with Twin Sinks; Two-Person Marble Shower with Rain Showerhead, Two Traditional Showerheads, and Foot Faucet; Pine & Cedar Sauna, Two-Person Whirlpool Bath; Washer & Dryer
Minimum Stay of 2 Nights Required (exceptions considered)

$250 - $325

The Kitchen

2008-10-14T12:30:00.000-07:00

"...Lord
Don't let me die before I wake
I don't dare to miss Craig's breakfast pancakes."
-Sadada

Wake up to a full, hearty country breakfast prepared by your hosts and served in the kitchen or in the dining room of our renovated summer porch. Enjoy farm fresh organic eggs, blueberry pancakes, homemade cereals, pies, and pastries, homemade yogurts and cheeses, and fresh organic fruits.

Craig flips his prayer-inspiring strawberry chocolate chip pancakes.

Guests who can't resist the aromas of the magical kitchen may opt for a Breakfast at Night package for any evening during your stay.

Tuscan display of braised pork chop with tarragon, risotto with spring greens, baked stuffed onion, and red and yellow peppers with tomato and basil. Vegeterian cuisine is also a speciality of the farm.

What night breakfast would be complete without delectable, homemade, award-winning desserts? Tell stories in front of the antique woodburning stove while delighting in world-class cheesecake, apple cobbler, decadent cookies, or frozen custard.

A freshly baked sweet potato pecan pie cools nearby while Craig slices roasted peppers.

The Lake

2008-10-14T09:52:00.000-07:00

The Grounds

2008-10-14T09:17:00.000-07:00

"What a sweet spot - the land is singing with your attention. The house is such a happy place to wake up."

-- Matthew

Private Dinner Parties

2008-10-14T06:41:00.000-07:00

Would you like to host a gourmet dinner party in the privacy of someone else's home? Annabessacook Farm is for you. Our dining room is perfect for 6 to 10 dinner guests. Some dinner party favorites include:

Traditional Soul Food Dinner
Mediterranean Bouillabaisse
Creole Gumbo
Annabessacook Farm Barbeque
Seafood Lasagna
Coq Au Vin

UPDATED December 15, 2008

WE HOSTED a private holiday dinner party for 12 guests last night. The group of friends has an annual party every December at the venue in the area, but had never been all that satisfied with the food wherever they chose to go. So they gave us a try this year. Hubby works with one of the guests. The menu:

Thai Shrimp Dumplings in Coconut Milk with Lemongrass

Carrot Soup with Orange and Ginger

Fall Salad with Apples, Dried Cranberries, Candied Pecans in a Maple Balsamic Vinaigrette

Grilled Tenderloin of Beef and Butter Poached Lobster over a Lobster, Corn and Sweet Potato Biscuit with Citrus Butter Sauce and Butternut Squash Puree

Heaven's Cheesecake with Raspberry Coulis and Fresh Blackberries

We cooked all day, decorating along the way, stayed up late into the night, and pulled the whole thing off without fussing. Two of the guests said it was the best meal they'd ever eaten in their entire lives.

The biscuits were an unexpected hit. Even I was surprised. Never built them before, couldn't even find a recipe, so I suppose I can claim an original creation. I concocted the dough early enough in the day and baked one to taste. If they were a complete miss, I'd have a chance for a do-over. Hubby, a biscuit connoisseur, approved.

I also never prepared an entire beef tenderloin. Marinated it for a day in garlic, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, red wine and herbs. Started it outside on the grill so it could get a good flavor and finished it off in the oven. Let it rest, covered with foil, for half an hour before slicing. It melted in the mouth like butter.

Speaking of which, we used 5 pounds of butter to make this meal. Five pounds. And 18 lobsters. The stock pot was ecstatic.

I've worked in lots of restaurants, but only in the front of the house. Much as I've always loved to cook, when watching the chefs and cooks behind the line with multiple pans on the fire, I used to think, I could never do that. Well, last night, as I whisked and stirred and shimmied and shook pots and pans of squash puree and butter poaching liquid (two kinds) and cream sauce and sweating leaks, all the while biscuits were baking and that precious log of beef was resting, I stood outside myself and watched with the same awe.

Like Daddy was standing over my shoulder watching with me to make sure I didn't mess anything up.

Of course hubby was also nearby. He built the dumplings and the soup and served as all-around prep cook, dishwasher, busboy, host, and waiter. We both wore all those hats, actually. Later, as we soaked our sore bodies in the jacuzzi, he said he understands now why so many people in the restaurant business turn to cocaine.

I turn to warm baths.

It's always a bit nerve wrecking to make such a meal when you know you have no margin for error. To hear the moans and groans at first bite give way to the peace-filled quiet of people eating good food made my night.

I went to bed satisfied. And proud.

Holiday Parties

2008-10-14T04:00:00.000-07:00

We host holiday parties for offices and families up to 35 people. The party featured here was last December for an office of osteopaths in the Winthrop area.

We served:

Caribbean Crabcakes
Shrimp Cocktail
Bacon-Wrapped Scallops
Chicken Satay
BBQ Babyrack Ribs
Homemade Pate Platter with Stuffed Dates and Relishes
Farm Fresh Deviled Eggs
Spinach Salad with Warm Bacon Dressing
Champignons with Toast
Butternut Squash Soup
Heaven's Cheesecake
Sweet Potato Pie
Sweet Potato Pecan Pie
Handmade Chocolates

They couldn't decide what they liked the best. "That (those) was (were) the best [insert one: deviled eggs, butternut squash soup, ribs, pate, cheesecake] I've ever eaten," flew out of many mouths.

It's humbling when people genuinely enjoy your work.

It was a roudy group. They told lots of jokes that had me rolling. And they played some very creative games, including opening gifts with gloves and betting on unknown gifts with monopoly money.

We'll gladly host them again.

The Food

2008-06-24T08:42:00.000-07:00

Fresh Vegetables & Produce

Fresh Eggs

Arugula
Beet Greens
Belgian Endive
Collards
Kale
Mesclun
Mache (Corn Salad)
Mustard Greens
Romaine
Spring Greens
Swiss Chard
Spinach
Turnip Greens

Corn

Beets
Carrots
Celery
Fennel
Golden Beets
Radish
Turnips

Basil
Chives
Cilantro
Parsley
Rosemary
Tarragon
Thyme

Leeks
Red Onions
Scallions
Yellow Onions

Blackeye Peas
Green Beans
Kidney Beans
Northern Beans
Soybeans
Sugar Peas

Okra

Beefsteak Tomatoes
Yellow Tomatoes

Jalepeno Peppers
Poblano Peppers
Red Bell Peppers
Tobasco Peppers
Yellow Bell Peppers

Butternut Squash
Cucumbers
Eggplant
Gourds
Pumpkins
Zucchini

Broccoli
Cabbage
Cauliflower
Collards
Kale
Kohlrabi

Blackberries
Blueberries
Red Raspberries
Strawberries
Wild Black Raspberries
Yellow Raspberries

Cantaloupe
Honeydew
Watermelon

For Breakfast
Poached Farm Fresh Eggs with Farm Fresh Hollandaise on Homemade Whole-Grain Cockaigne
Scrambled Eggs with Micro Greens and Sweet Potato Hash
Huevos Rancheros with Fresh Salsa
Omelette with Herb Chèvre and Spinach and Fresh Fruit

Fried Chicken and Waffles
Shrimp and Grits
Porkchops and Buttermilk Flapjacks
Biscuits and Gravy
Blueberry Sour Cream Pancakes
Strawberry Chocolate Chip Pancakes
Blackberry Crème Brûlée
Heaven's Cheesecake
Sweet Potato Pie
Sweet Potato Pecan Pie

Homemade Granola
Greek Yogurt
Hickory Smoked Bacon
Blueberry Sausage

What We Love To Make
Fresh Chèvre
Greek Yogurt
Homemade Granola
Trail Mix
Whole-Grain Bread Cockaigne
Sweet Potato Pie
Sweet Potato Pecan Pie
Heaven's Cheesecake
German Chocolate Cake
Raspberry-Laced Vanilla Cake
Creolo Gumbo
West African Beef Stew
Curried Goat
Macaroni & Cheese
Leek Tart
Crispy Collards
Applesauce

All of our food is guaranteed fresh. If we don't grow it or raise it ourselves, we buy it local, which for us means from a farmer or fish market within 50 miles. All produce is organic, grown in green- and brown-manured compost enriched soils and without any foliar sprays other than garlic, cayenne pepper, oil and water. All beef is grass-fed from start to finish, all chicken and pork is pastured, all seafood is wild caught or raised without chemicals, all dairy is made with raw goat or cow's milk, all fresh eggs are fertilized.