Suburban Homestead Store
Meat chickens, turkeys and rabbits are the quintessential small livestock used for meat production on farms and homesteads of all sizes. But other fowl, like ducks, should not be discounted as a viable source of food and income. In fact, ducks are thought to be easier to raise then meat chickens because they are heartier and don’t require expensive housing. They can handle many different climates very well. They eat a variety of foods, from kitchen scraps to garden culls to small critters like toads and snails. Ducks are also beneficial. They produce good quality fertilizer while ridding the garden of weeds and bugs. And, they are not as susceptible to avian diseases as chickens are.
So—if you’ve mastered raising your own meat from other small livestock and want to try something new, try ducks.
The more popular meat duck breeds include the Pekin, Rouen and Muscovy. The White Pekin is a favorite of the three because it produces delicious, healthy white meat. The Rouen is second to the Pekin with its flavorful carcass. Rounding out the trio is the Muscovy because the meat is similar to ham or sirloin steak, yet much leaner (98% fat free). Read the rest of the story »
Fall is a time for wonderfully hearty meals like stews and goulashes and chunky soups. But, when one pot meals get a little tiresome we turn to a few of our favorite meat recipes like this Apple Jack pork tenderloin. It’s super easy and the gravy gives it a rich and elegant touch.
Popular in colonial times, Apple Jack is a strong apple liqueur produced by concentrating hard cider. As the marinade is cooked it is transformed into an indulgent sauce; the apple essence becoming sweeter and playing off the spicy Dijon mustard and salty soy sauce. Our favorite recipe is below and when served with mashed potatoes, a seasonal vegetable like butternut squash or green beans and a chunky applesauce it makes the perfect cool weather meal.
2 1-pound pork tenderloins
¼ cup firmly packed brown sugar
¼ cup minced green onions
¼ cup Apple Jack
¼ cup soy sauce
¼ cup Dijon mustard
¼ Tsp. fresh ground pepper
½ Tsp. cornstarch
Trim pork tenderloins leaving a thin layer of fat. Combine all ingredients, except the cornstarch, in a reusable container; add pork and chill for 8 hours or overnight.
When ready to cook, remove pork, saving the marinade. Preheat oven or grill to 350. Grill or bake about 8 minutes on each side or until a meat thermometer registers 155. Remove from grill or oven and let stand for 10 minutes.
While the pork is resting, combine the marinade and cornstarch in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring constantly for 1 minute. Slice pork diagonally and arrange on a platter, drizzle with the warm sauce.
What better way to enjoy the season.
I woke at 5:15 this past Saturday. Something I rarely do. I’ve never bought into the romanticized notion of waking up before the sun if you live on a farm. But, this morning was different. A long productive work week, a relaxing movie and dinner with my sister, a chat with my friend and fellow suburban farmer about kids and school; life and the future, plus a hot soak in the tub and a sound restful night’s sleep was the perfect storm of circumstances my body needed to raise me at that hour. It’s okay though, because this weekend was about switching gears.
The first weekend in November is our traditional “get ready for winter” weekend. Regardless of the weather, it’s the time when we close the door on hot weather, cooling clothes and light meals; and hunker down to cozy blankets, fires and hearty stick to your ribs meals.
It was still dark when I woke. Not even a sliver of daylight crested the horizon. I could feel the cold air hang over me and knew the predawn hours had dipped towards freezing. I lay in bed for awhile, thinking, snuggled down under a mound of blankets, our cat nestled at my neck, planning the day ahead. There would be much to do, making ready for winter.
When I finally emerged from my warm cocoon, at 5:30am, the furnace had already gone off several times (and it was set at 60). I slipped into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, pulled on a pair of warm socks and headed for the living room. Although we had stacked our outside firewood racks to overflowing I hadn’t put the wood grate back into the firebox. In spring and summer my firebox is home to a tiered wrought iron candle holder, but on the first weekend of November, the candles come out and the firewood grate goes in. Read the rest of the story »
I love today.
I love Fall.
I love the dusky umber October Light.
I love the big orange moon.
I love the black night and bright stars.
As a farmer.
As a woman.
Goal! © by Barbara L. Hanson
Fall is when my lambs are sold.
Fall is when I store for winter.
When Brianne goes back to school.
Fall is when the leaves turn red and orange and gold.
Autumn at Mt Macedon © by Ryk Neethling
When bugs are gone.
When wood is gathered.
When hay is laid in.
When a fire takes the chill off a cold night.
Campfire on Honeymoon Beach, Isla Danzante © by lowjumpingfrog
Writing this, I think to myself:
My favorite book sale is soon.
I should call my friend Jane, who loans me her cabin,
Up above the mountains’ tree line.
I will surprise her,
And take her some firewood,
And give her some fruit,
And find her a book,
And tell her thank you for being my friend,
Because she deserves it.
It will be my honor to Fall.
Autumn Leaves © by dtaylorcreative
This weekend has been dedicated largely to everyone’s comfort here on the farm. The rabbit has a freshly strawed box in which to spend the winter; all the nesting boxes have been cleaned and repacked with a generous amount of shavings; my tender container garden of salad greens and spinach have been covered with float clothe to keep out the night chill and the wood racks are stacked high with seasoned, split eucalyptus.
The fire stack near the front door and a festively carved Jack-O-Lantern greets friends and neighbors on the front porch.
It’s been a weekend of settling in…to fall…to cooler weather…to fewer outdoor chores and long awaited indoor projects. The farm seems barren as I make my nightly rounds, checking on animals, gathering eggs, topping off water troughs and breathing in the cool crisp air. Most of the fruit trees are losing their leaves and much of the garden has been dismantled, save for a few containers filled with greens. New raised beds await a truckload of composted cow manure; compliments of a fellow 4-H family. And, the rest of the old garden beds have been removed and the whole area weeded and staked out for the new greenhouse and garden.
The weatherman is calling for low 40’s tonight. It was the incentive we needed to stock the wood rack to get ready for roaring fire. The stove has been was bubbling all yesterday, loaded down with chicken carcasses that were transformed into a luscious seasonal Chicken Pot Pie. Paired with a simple salad and a rustic apple pie, it was the perfect end to this all hallows weekend.
Halloween means a lot to me. It is my favorite holiday. It’s not about the scary costumes or the candy or even the wild revelry. Don’t get me wrong… I don’t begrudge people that kind of fun; it’s just not for me. Halloween to me is a time to reflect on seasons past, to find a place of calm after months of busy gardening and animal raising. It’s a time to be grateful for what we have, the food that we’ve grown, the animals that will feed us all winter and the people in our lives. The ancients marked this day as the beginning of a new year. It was a somber day full of remembrances and gratitude. So for me this has been a quiet day of slow and steady work without much fuss.
My morning started off quiet with a breakfast of pumpkin pecan pancakes, bacon and a few fresh eggs thrown in for good measure. I try to make as many pumpkin inspired dishes as possible this month. It just doesn’t seem the same (or right) any other time of year. I sat at my kitchen table, looking out the window, the chickens running from one end of the yard to the other, Sophia flapping her wings the whole way. Two big black crows sat watching from atop the pepper tree. It has been said that crows seen in pairs is a sign of good luck. It’s nothing special to see them alone, but boy if you see them together you’ve got a good sign. My fall décor consists of folk art I found while on a trip to Vermont and Oregon. Hallow themed prints with pumpkins and owls and, you guessed it, crows. My fall quilt project is a primitive crow appliqué pattern I found at a quilt show a few years ago. When I saw it hanging on the display wall it reminded me of the crows on the farm and I just had to have it, so I forked over the cash to buy it.
Someday it too will be part of my hallow festivities; wrapping Brianne and I in its warmth. Farm girls making our way together. Now that’s a pair teaming with luck.
Picture By: JMS
I ran across this article in my saved file. Something I meant to post weeks ago, but never did. After re-reading it and considering the fact that we are about a month away from the biggest turkey holiday of the year I thought it only right to go ahead and post it.
It makes me pause and wonder, with amount of turkey’s recalled this summer, how does that bode for our Thanksgiving holiday. It also makes me glad to know that I could grow my own – if I liked turkey enough. Our Thanksgiving centerpiece will be a 10-pound roaster raised on our farm and butchered this past spring.
Read More Here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/09/11/cargill-turkey-recall_n_957316.html
We have a tradition this time of October. My sister and I head up the coast, through a small wine region into a secluded valley at the foot of a mountain, kissed by the coastal fog. But, it’s not wine we are tasting. It is apples!
See Canyon is a microclimate that gets the right amount of cold nights; perfect for growing apples this far south. The air is cool and damp from the coastal fog, but that never deters us. We are on a mission you see; to taste apples that we would never be able to sample, even at the Farmer’s Markets.
The orchards are small, organic and each one as unique as the one before. Not like a commercial operation at all. These farms grow over 60 different varieties with names as enticing as Heaven Sent, Splendor, Caville Blanc and Mohawk. Some are great for fresh eating while others stand up well to baking.
Long tables covered with red checkered tablecloths served as tasting stations with more than a dozen varieties to sample. Not all varieties ripen at the same time, but this is still more than we would ever see at home. College students man the tables and are eager to slice off a chunk for us to eat. Some have red skins, some burgundy, some green and some mottled. There are even a few that are black. We had a light breakfast, saving ourselves for this very moment.
Apple farm apples are all different shapes and sizes. Not the uniform specimens found at chain supermarkets. These have dents and creases and bug holes and rough spots near the stem. These are real apples grown by real farmers. Picture perfect is not what it’s all about up here. Taste and texture is all that matters.
After discounting varieties we could get at home we tasted eight varieties that sounded interesting. They were all crispy and juicy, and snapped when we sunk our teeth into each slice. In the end, though, we settled on Heaven Sent, a small, tender, super sweet apple with great storage life, and Splendor, an unusually large, tender, pink apple that stays super crispy when stored in the fridge. We bought 10 pounds of each so we could divide them amongst our households.
The second part of our trip was about tasting this seasons’ apple cider. We can only grow a few varieties of apples on our farm because we don’t get very many chill hours. And, the varieties we do grow are better eating apples than cider apples, so cider hunting is a special treat. Or, should I say necessity?
After we made our way through all the farms and tasted cider from many different apples we bought 8 half-gallon jugs of a blended cider from Creekside Farms. That should keep us going all winter.
Once out of the valley we stopped at a local hotspot for chowder and bread before heading home. Our cider tasting day-trip is a fun fall tradition and the best part is we don’t have to worry about a hangover.
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Anytime I have apples that become too soft for fresh eating I make them into a chunky applesauce that’s great along side pork, in oatmeal or as a replacement for bananas in our favorite banana bread recipe. Here’s how I make it: Read the rest of the story »
Looking Into Not-Too-Distant Future, Joel Salatin Sees the Spectre of Animal Rights Haunting Small Farms
Dear SH.com Readers, I found this piece, based on an article from Good Housekeeping, on another website and wanted to share it with you. I don’t know what your experiences have been or what your thoughts might be concerning this issue. Agree or Disagree. But, it certainly is food for thought – pardon the pun – and something we may very well have to deal with in the future.
Believe it or not, there’s a food issue lurking out there beyond food rights and food safety. Joel Salatin, the Virginia farmer-author-activist is worried that that next issue is animal rights. He’s already seeing evidence of it at Polyface Farm, his own farm in the Shenandoah foothills. During a tour of his farm Saturday for 150 attendees as part of a fundraiser for the Farm-to-Consumer Legal Defense Fund, Salatin said he’s been reported to his local animal control officials by area residents who have had concerns about the treatment of his cattle.
In one case, someone reported him because one of his steers was limping. In another case, he was reported because his cattle were “mobbing”–hanging out close to each other as a herd in a new pasture. In each instance, “We had to spend two days with local vets explaining what we do”…and he was off the hook.
His view of animal rights as an emerging issue for owners of sustainable farms rates a chapter in his upcoming book, Folks, This Ain’t Normal: A Farmer’s Advice for Happier Hens, Healthier People, and a Better World. It’s due out in early October.
During the Saturday farm tour, Salatin wondered aloud what other problems the animal rights people might find at his farm. He pointed out how, during recent heavy rains, the chickens (who stay outside in mobile structures) got pretty wet, which isn’t unusual. “We have days when our chickens are out here in the rain and cold and shivering. I know there are people who would like to go out and buy them L.L. Bean dog pillows.” Read the rest of the story »
Apples hang low on branches that bend to the ground. Picking time is just around the corner. There’ll be cold crunchy crispness for fresh eating, sliced sweetness in pies and tarts, savory baked apples and “just past prime” apples cooked down and made into an applesauce that is perfect with a succulent roast pork.
Bread rises in the warmth of a kitchen then is pulled hot and fresh from the oven on a holiday morning, smothered in butter or honey or a homemade summer jam. It’s heady aroma filling a quite farmhouse.
Chicks pip and crack, making their way, wet and weak, from the warmth of their eggshell cocoon. They grow plump and fat, peck and scratch the ground, finding bugs and worms while growing into stately layers or succulent roasted dinners.
Daydreams. A cool, late summer evening to celebrate the past and dream of the future; to praise protectors that make it possible for a single mom and a child to live a farm life, at the edge of suburbia with the help of a few good friends, a pen full of lambs and a coop full of chickens.
Eggs hidden in corners and behind bales of hay like small nuggets of buried treasure, waiting to be collected or hatched to replenish an aging flock, or cooked into a hearty breakfast fit for a farm girl.
Fruit trees spread their branches, pushing their blossoms out to become a new year’s crop blushed by the sun and ripened in the heat of summer.
Gardens grow rich and green; tangle and twine through their beds before producing brightly shaped crops perfect for eating fresh, freezing or canning.
Hands dive deep into rich black soil, making way for a fall sowing of seeds. Pulling spent crops, moving manure from coop to compost and from compost to bed.
Imaginations wander, thoughts emerge, ideas form and a town lot slowly transforms into a productive oasis of food and fiber; simplicity and self-reliance.
Jam bubbles and sputters on a red hot stove; releasing its summer juices for a concoction that will remind us of warmer weather on a cloudy winter’s day.
Killing goes hand-in-hand with the raising and growing, providing the family with safe, wholesome food for the year. Prayers go up from grateful hearts for an animal’s good life, which sustains ours.
Lambs jump and frolic, getting strong and fat on good feed. Their fate…to some a cold death, to others a year’s worth of dinners wrapped in paper and stacked in a freezer.
Mason jars line the shelves, gleaming with our brightly colored harvest; enough to feed a family all winter long.
Night time falls silently over our little farm, quietly relinquishing its hard working inhabitants to sleep.
Owls hoot from high in the trees, swooping down to earth anytime a mouse scurries across its path.
Pumpkins gleam in the dusky autumn sun, waiting to transform our farmhouse into a fantasy of fall splendor before being turned into pies and butters and breads and cakes.
Quilts lay out like rainbows over the horizon; pieced together from scraps of fabric or worn out favorites to keep a family warm from the harsh winds of winter.
Rain storms roll through the valley, coming down in sprinkles and showers; downpours and droves, nourishing the parched spoil, renewing life on our little farm.
Season’s change; from the long sunny days of summer filled with fresh eating from the garden to the cool crisp days of fall and harvests put up for winter store to the promise of spring with the turning of soil and the planting of seeds.
Time chases us as we plan and work and move toward a more self-sufficient life, building and planting to live self contained. But, time is also our friend, for life is about the journey and not the destination.
Understanding comes from days working the soil or tending the animals. Old worries, past ambitions, long held desires fade into the distance as new truths take hold and become part of who we are becoming.
Victories abound on our little farm; barns are raised, skills are learned, chicks are hatched, kits are born, lambs grow, gardens produce and animals give their lives to feed a grateful family.
Wash hangs on the line, blowing in the soft breeze, taking in the sweet scent of a contented farm.
X-altation from a life lived simply brings contentment and comfort.
Yarn spun from a harvest of wool; washed and carded and put on a wheel, wraps around clicking needles or flies through the strings of a loom; emerging as hat or scarf or sweater, bringing warmth and comfort to the wearer.
Zucchini’s flourish in compost rich beds; dark green and golden yellow even striped become the base for breads or cookies or muffins; sliced or sautéed or stuffed and baked. They become the center of our meals.
We have come a long way since the first spade plunged deep into the soil; the first animal walked our land. We have much still to learn, but we produce our own crops and raise our own meat. That’s enough.