One Small Thing

Although it wasn't a great year for gardening, we did manage to sneak out a little produce. The chickens recently decided that they really like eating tomatoes, so now even the sad green ones left on the vines are in jeopardy. First my kale, now my tomatoes. "Ladies," I said in the sternest voice I could manage while addressing a flock of chickens, "I expect that if you're going to eat my hard-earned organic produce, you will at least lay some eggs in return." They stared back at me with their chicken eyes and made noises which I could tell were full of remorse. Then one of them crouched down and stuck her tail feathers up, which is chicken talk for "Let's get it on." Only a chicken who is laying will do this. I reached down and scratched her back, and explained politely but firmly that she and I cannot have that kind of relationship and while I think her feathers are just lovely, I think it's best if we keep things between us professional. She continues to fail to respect my boundaries, and every time I walk out into the yard she propositions me. Our chickens don't usually want to be touched, so the boys thought it was odd she was being so submissive. "What's she doing mom?" they asked. "Trying to make more chickens, but she doesn't know I'm not a daddy chicken." That is the kind of technical chicken language we use around here; 'daddy chicken' as opposed to 'rooster.'

The most organic, most locally produced meal I've ever eaten. Everything pictured grew within 50 feet of me.

Even though it's been a slim harvest, I still really wanted to make something that was exclusively produced on our property, even if it was just one small thing. Aaron asked what I was making for dinner. "First I'm going to make something that won't actually fill us up and later I'll make something else, but right now I feel a strong need to do this." "That's fine," he replied grinning. Five years of being married to me has taught him not to question what I do in the kitchen; it doesn't always work out, but he knows I'm going to do it anyway. I chopped, roasted and sauteed. I sprinkled, fried, and plated oh-so-carefully. It was totally worth it. While not exactly a feast fit for a king, it made a really satisfying snack for two. Everything on that plate came from our yard, except the olive oil and salt. Jack didn't care to try it, but when I told him that everything on the plate had been grown by us his whole face lit up and he said "Cool." The good news is that I would make this again, regardless of whether any of it was produced on my own soil. It was independently tasty, but was made even better by the huge dose of karmic satisfaction it gave me. Farmer's Breakfast(or lunch or pre-dinner snack) 2 medium-sized red potatoes, scrubbed 3 baby leeks, cleaned 5-6 cherry tomatoes 1 egg Fresh rosemary, chopped Fresh chives olive oil salt First, dig up some potatoes. This is best done while your kids are "helping" in the garden and your husband is installing the new nesting boxes he made for your chickens. Next, pull up a few leeks(which are actually thriving because they don't mind not having an actual Summer). Hunt around your sad tomato vines for a few gems the chickens missed. Check behind the door of the chicken coop for an egg, and tuck all your treasures carefully in a basket. Scrub and chop the potatoes, then toss them in a frying pan you've drizzled with olive oil. Roughly chop the leeks and toss them with the tomatoes, some olive oil and salt, then roast them in a small dish on 425 until they get wrinkled and soft. While those two things are going on, go outside and pick a little rosemary and a few chives. Chop the rosemary and sprinkle it over the potatoes, which should still be cooking. When they're done, transfer them to a plate and spoon the roasted tomatoes and leeks over the top. Carefully fry the egg and serve it sunny side up, nest it on top of the potatoes and sprinkle the whole thing with chives. Feed your husband a bite and feel a deep sense of connectedness to the earth and all living things. Then send your husband to the store for some halibut because, karmic satisfaction or no, you still need more food.