It is a funny kind of irony that moving to the land and leaving the grid resulted in a break from some of our better eating habits. There were some needed compromises and some not-so-needed and I (and my many excuses and justifications) take full responsibility for this as the kitchen-dweller of the family. We were…
Every 24-48 hours I head out to the garden, usually in the evening. It is often when I am standing at the clothesline as the sun begins to fade that I look over to see the okra – as tall as me now – waiting to be picked. So Joshie and I play a game…
My sourdough starter kicked the bucket about a month ago… or, more accurately, I brought about its demise through sheer neglect. Still, not one member of the bread-eating family was prepared to say good-bye to fermented bread and just about that same time, with plenty of milk between Mabel and the goats, milk kefir was back…
For some time we were eating gumbo several times a week, that spicy meaty stew served in seven rice-filled bowls. The bowls of okra were swiftly making meals and all was in balance… up until about three weeks ago. That’s when the children collectively decided they were completely done with okra. It seems as though they…
