Know That Some Day, I Will Kill You

I learned with my first batch of chickens that they will not start laying eggs until they are about six months old. This created a bit of a quandry last year… see, Dave got the birds in July, so they weren’t mature until mid-winter. That introduced lesson number 2: chickens won’t lay eggs when the days are short. They are pretty tuned in to the seasons in that respect. This kind of prompts the question that if chickens won’t lay eggs in the winter, then how do the stores keep them stocked year-round? Are they shipped from other parts of the planet?!? After some more reading and consulting with other poultry peoples, I learned the trick. Extend the birds’ day. So, Dave rigged a small lamp in the coop on a timer, and, lo and behold, the eggs started coming! Beautiful colors, too: different shades of blue and green. Dave and I joked about how this was our method of “torturing” the birds, since the practice does cause a certain amount of stress to the chickens. We did not want to be cruel about it, so as the days lengthened, we adjusted the light’s timer accordingly, until about April.

As the days are now once again getting shorter, the egg train has parked for the season. Dave and I have decided to not use the light and the timer again. “Why?” you might ask, “Don’t you still want eggs?” Well, yes, we do. I actually had to buy eggs for the first time in over a year a few weeks ago, and I was really irritated about it. “Then why not use the light again?” Well, while hens may live as long as 5-10 years, their egg laying capacity diminishes exponentially after the first year. Many are culled at this point. This is why you see different kinds of chickens available at the store: roasters / fryers and stewing hens. After a certain age, the meat gets tougher (think about the difference between lamb and mutton), and a chicken that is over a year old is really only suitable for stewing or soup making. Our girls’ laying was getting spotty through September, so Dave and I decided that we weren’t going to push them through the shorter days… we were just going to get them processed instead, and then get some new chicks for a family Christmas present. That should work out so that the egg production will be starting just as the weather stabilizes and the days are long enough.

I have been letting them out of the run more often, now that the garden is pretty much finished for the year. The girls have been in chicken heaven being able to scritch around in what was left over. They’ve truly enjoyed the cornucopia of tasty bugs, worms and slugs, not to mention the tomatoes that had fallen from the plants and the cast-off leaves from the cabbages and collard greens. The chickens even assisted me when I was digging the potatoes and planting the garlic. My birds have led a happy and healthy life, and I feel no misgivings whatsoever about ushering them into their next starring role, as some soul-warming chicken noodle soup.

I am seriously considering giving the next batch a little ‘get to know you’ speech upon arrival, just to clear up any potential misunderstandings: “So that everyone is on the same page, know that some day, I will kill you. And, you will be delicious.”

Falling Over Ourselves

There’s been a lot going on here lately. As of September, I found myself in the category of the (f)unemployed, which has been both a good thing and a bad thing. Even though I no longer have the nine to five, I seem to be twice as busy, with less “free” time. The job market here is barely limping along, so while I seek the next employment, I have thrown myself headfirst into being the domestic homestead goddess, which, in my humble opinion, is massively more rewarding than the desk job ever was.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve broken down the done parts of the garden, like the tomatoes, savoy cabbage, sweet bell and banana peppers, hot peppers and carrots. I’m a little concerned about the late crop of potatoes, but anything wrong with them would be my fault, since I got them in way, way too late… mental note taken for next year. I’ve still got collard greens, swiss chard, broccoli and red cabbage going like gangbusters since they are frost resistant. That being said, our little pocket of the world is weird like that, as we may not get a truly killing frost until next month. The shorter days are now my nemesis.

Dave continues to experiment with meat, and has made some exceptional smoked ribs and even a smoked pulled pork. We are both pleasantly surprised at how much less meat we’ve been eating since he started experimenting with charcuterie. Now we are more likely to use meat as a flavoring within a meal versus a “main course.”

October was an amazingly busy month – Dave and I embarked on an adventure into the West. We had traveled to Portland, OR together before (both of us having friends and family out there), but I was shocked to learn that Dave had never had the opportunity to see any of the in-between, say, like the Rocky Mountains, from anything but a plane. I had the opportunity to travel West somewhat frequently growing up, since I had some family in Colorado Springs – I decided this was part of my soul that I needed to share. So, we flew into Denver, rented a car and drove to Grand Junction, CO via the scenic routes and the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. From there, we took the train to Portland, OR, by way of Salt Lake City, through Sacramento, CA - to give him a saturating visual experience of some mountains, among other things. I’m such a nature geek that I get all kinds of excited about the stark difference in the flora and fauna that you get out west versus here in Ohio– pronghorn deer and sagebrush, the very different fall color palette that you get at higher altitudes (mostly the yellow of the aspen and evergreens), the different flavors of mountains as you travel from state to state.

We visited my sister Meg and her man, Dan, in The Dalles, OR (about 80 miles east of Portland, along the Columbia River), and had some great fun wrecking havoc in their kitchen. Dave and I gave them a bacon tutorial, made possible by a quick stop at a charcuterie shop in Portland. Meg and Dan have only been in The Dalles for about a month, and are still settling into their spacious house. I think Dave and I helped at least a little in acclimatizing them to the myriad of wonders that are collaborative kitchen efforts – it can be a little frustrating to try to make culinary magic in unfamiliar territory (and potentially destroy what used to be a healthy relationship), but Dave and I emerged from the ordeal as friends, and I hope we gave Meg and Dan the courage to try new things together.

I had forgotten how daunting it can be to cook when you are just starting out. Meg and Dan are not new to cooking at home, or sharing the same culinary space, but a new, big house in a new, smaller town, after a small apartment in a large metropolitan area can be a lot like starting from scratch. I envy the copious cabinetry in their kitchen, and there is part of me that wishes that I could be a bigger part of the filling of those spaces, but I have faith in them. Dave and I set them up with a set of decent knives, and a few other necessary objects, like a good pepper grinder. Meg and I talked a lot about how to decide what to stock in the pantry, and the sometimes elusive art of weekly meal planning. I assured her that it was a process for me, and that I am certainly still learning. I have failures, too. I encouraged her to never give up and to try to not be afraid to experiment, and even though we are 3 time zones apart, she is always welcome to call me with questions, or to commiserate. I am proud of her for just being willing to try!