Big Boy Does Not Like the Dog Days of Summer

We never quite get acclimated to July and August in South Louisiana.  It is hot and humid and those are just the facts.  We deal with it as best we can, often asking each other, "When do you think the first cold front will blow through?"  While we can go inside in the nice air conditioning and sit under a fan to cool off, the animals don't have that luxury.  Big Boy, our Great Pyrenees dog, loathes the summer.  With his big furry coat, he is not exactly cut out for this climate.  Great Pyrenees dogs come from a mountainous region bordering Spain and France.  Needless to say, the climate is a bit different in our lowland, swampy locale.

Big boy, however, has ways of trying to stay cool that doesn't include air conditioners or fans.  He digs holes.  Did I say holes?  I meant to say craters.  Although he has plenty of shade in his hangout in 'the grove' underneath the trampoline, Big Boy still seeks cooler temps.  Where does he find it?  In the cool dirt, of course.  A freshly dug hole unearths soft dirt untouched by the summer sun and heat.  I know it is hot and don't really begrudge his excavations as I know it cools him off.  He's a dog.  A Hot Dog.

It's just that it s never just one hole.  You see, that dirt he lays in doesn't stay cool.  It warms up due to Big Boy's body heat and the ambient temperature.  This provokes him to dig another hole...  And another and another.  I've gotten to the point where I have placed cinder blocks, ladders, wagons and all sorts of items around the base of a tangerine tree so he doesn't dig around it, expose its roots, and kill it.  This eyesore of a random assortment of digging barriers I've laid out would get us kicked out of a subdivision, if we lived in one.

The constant digging has loosened dirt and this is causing erosion problems during big rains.  This has caused me to use cinder blocks to build a retaining wall to keep Big Boy's dirt from washing down the ditch during big rains.  This was a lot of work and I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't look over indignantly at Big Boy while installing the erosion-slowing wall.

I just wish Big Boy would listen to the wise words of Will Rogers, who once said,

"If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging."

A Smorgasbord of Beans and Peas

Tricia and I were having an afternoon cup of coffee on Saturday, sitting out on the swing in the backyard.  It was pretty hot and we were discussing how the month of June is a very busy one in the garden.  July - not so much.  By the time July rolls around, the tomatoes are done, the cucumbers have all but quit producing and the yellow squash and zucchini squash are waving white flags at the heat.

In July the crops still producing include okra.  My goodness, okra is such a hardy crop.  The hotter it gets, okra doubles down and grows taller, adds more blooms and produces pods in open defiance of the sun.  Peppers are also really hopping.  Jalapeno, sweet bell, and banana peppers load up.  Last but not least are the numerous varieties of southern peas, lima beans and and pole beans.  It is at this time that those peas and beans spread like wildfire across the garden.

While they were planted in an orderly fashion in neat rows with the intention of keeping things separated, something happened along the way.  It is as if they had a mind of their own and decided that there are no barriers and they resolved to intertwine themselves into a jungle-like mass of vegetation.  That's okay, I thought.  I'll just harvest them all, even though they are mixed up, and enjoy the different colors and shapes and sizes of peas and beans.  I brought them in and shelled them.

A non-exhaustive list of peas and beans include: purple hull peas, Ozark razorback peas, blackeyed peas, dixie speckled butterbeans, baby limas, whippoorwill peas, Reverend Taylor beans, Cades Cove peas...  I think I'm forgetting a few, but who's counting.

I remember growing up, from time to time, my mom would buy a package of dried beans and peas that represented a mixture of different types.  It was called 13 Bean Soup.  We always enjoyed it.  We like to re-create that dish when we have a plethora of peas like we currently do.  We soak the beans overnight and then add tomatoes, onions, garlic, peppers.  For a smoky flavor, Tricia adds cut up smoked sausage to the pot. 

This dish is a hearty one that sure can warm you up on a cold winter's day.  However, I'm not going to push this away on a hot summer's day.

The peas and beans are continuing to produce in the heat and we continue to harvest and shell them.  We have another bowl of our version of 13 bean soup ready to be worked into the rotation for supper one night this week.  We'll need to make some cornbread, too.  Nothing like crumbling some cornbread on top to take this dish to the next level.

Factory Eggs

I wonder if hens get cabin fever?  Do they get tired of being 'cooped up?'  (Pardon the pun)  Do they just want to stretch their wings?  Like William Wallace in the movie, "Braveheart," do they ever want to scream, "FREEDOM!!!!?"

I bet they do if they are factory hens raised in a metallic shed all their lives in cages.  The other day Tricia and Benjamin were driving and ran across a popular (around here) egg producer's headquarters located in a neighboring state and they took a few pictures.  Isn't this a pastoral sight?  I think not.

For the record, I'm not a "tree-hugger."  I do consider myself a conservationist.  According to Genesis 1:26, I believe that God gave mankind dominion over the animals.  I believe that our "ruling over" animals comes with great responsibility.  We are to watch over them and protect them and treat them kindly.  I think that part of that means that we should try to keep them in their natural setting as much as possible.  That's what we try to do with our hens.  Most of the time they are out on the pasture, eating bugs and worms and grass.  They also hang out in the shade on hot days under the trees, taking dust baths.  The only time some of them are "indoors" is at night.  Some of them roost in a hen house.  Others roost on top of the woodpile, in a pecan tree, or random places.

I don't think that chickens were intended to live out their lives caged in barns like this.  Although from the exterior, the chicken egg factory looks clean and tidy, I know inside the poor birds spend all their lives under bright fluorescent bulbs and are packed into small steel cages, never to see green grass and blue skies.  To avoid pecking that undoubtedly happens when animals are crowded into cages, I've read that the hens are de-beaked.  Also, it must REALLY stink in there!

I like to think our happy hens appreciate that they are allowed to roam around outside.  They are treated well and give us healthy, delicious eggs in remuneration.

The Definition of Milk

milk
noun 1. an opaque white fluid rich in fat and protein, secreted by female mammals for the nourishment of their young.

At 5:45 am in the morning, on the AM radio station I listen to there is a Farm Report where they talk about prices of calves and pork bellies, the cotton crop and yield estimates.  On Monday, however, they were discussing the definition of milk.  It seems the Food and Drug Administration (at the behest of the Dairy lobby) is now going to start strictly enforcing the definition of milk.

As you may have noticed, there is now almond milk, soy milk, cashew milk, hemp milk, etc.  None of the plants that produce these beverages are mammals and, thus, cannot lactate.  For years now, they've co-opted the word milk to connote that these nut "juices" have equivalent health and nutrient benefits as milk.  The FDA says, "no more."  For some reason almond juice just doesn't have the same ring to it, now does it?  Milk will be milk and all the copycats will have to find a new term.

On a similar note, I heard that there is now something called vegan butter.  It is made with coconut oil.  But wait, I thought that a butter substitute made with vegetable or plant based oils is called "margarine?"  Maybe that will be now called a 'spread' or another term.  Will peanut butter have to be renamed, too?  It's all so confusing.

We love our milk and dairy products.  They taste great and are great for you.  We think everyone should drink it - the real stuff, that is.

"Get off your horse and drink your milk."  - John Wayne

A Friday Afternoon Treat

Most of the time, we like to eat homegrown food raised right here on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm.  It is good stuff and we enjoy growing it and cooking it and especially eating it.  On some Fridays, however, we bend the rules a little bit.  Our family jumps in the car and heads due west.  The paved road soon turns to a gravel road and the dust billows up in big clouds behind us, making me glad that the car hasn't been recently washed.  We slow down as a mama duck and her ducklings cross the road and enter a ditch and hide in the grass.

We drive over the small bridge that brings us over Bayou Chene.  A family is standing on the edge of the bridge peering into the water below.  Several young boys take aim with their BB guns at a turtle or a stump or perhaps a snake.  We wave and continue westward, coming to a stop sign where the washboard road makes us bounce a bit.   After a minute or two, we turn onto a paved road and drive due south for about 3 miles, reaching our destination.

We get out of the car and go inside.  Right behind the glass case under a heat lamp, we see our prize - Boudin Balls!  Boudin that has been battered and deep fried!  Sometimes we get the plain spicy boudin balls.  Other times we get the boudin balls stuffed with jalapenos and cheese!

We climb back inside the car with the box of boudin balls and dole out napkins for everyone.  We can never wait until we get home to eat them.  Boudin balls are quite tricky to eat in the car.  As you bite into them, the napkin doesn't quite catch the pieces of rice and meat that fall onto your shirt and into the cracks of the car seat. 

We drive back home full of boudin and turn back in our driveway.  The sun is now setting as we disembark.  It is a nice little treat that we enjoy.  Boudin balls are hard to beat!

Black Beans For Breakfast

Earlier this summer in THIS POST we talked about experimenting with growing and drying black beans.  We ended up with a large bowl of shiny, beautiful black beans.

So what to do with them?  Tricia recalls growing up in South Texas (Corpus Christi, to be exact) and fondly remembers a meal that her mom would make them for breakfast.  Tricia's mom made this meal with pinto beans, but we're going to make it with black beans, since we grew some in the garden this year.  Pinto beans, Tricia says, are more of a 'South Texas thing,' whereas black beans are more of a Mexico staple dish.  She wanted to prepare it for us.  First she soaked the black beans and cooked them on the stove.

Then, using a stick blender, she pureed the black beans and continued cooking them until a lot of the water evaporated.  They began to really thicken up.

While they were thickening, Tricia began to make homemade tortillas.  You can buy tortillas at the store, but I'm not gonna lie, I'm spoiled to the homemade ones.  It takes more work, but they are far superior to store-bought ones.

Once they're all rolled out you pop them in a heated skillet, flipping them once until they are golden brown.

So now to continue in a walk down memory lane with Tricia and her recollections of comfort food as a kid.  Taking a warm tortilla in your hand, spoon out some black beans onto the tortilla and spread evenly on one side.

Fold the other side over and then place in a skillet with oil and fry the 'black bean quesadilla,' flipping once in the oil until both sides are golden brown.

Now, you are ready to eat!  I added some sliced red and green jalapenos from the garden that I just picked and squeezed a lime over it.

Tricia was interested to see if it tasted like her childhood.  She said it did.  Black bean tacos for breakfast!  Muy bueno!

Good Neighbors Share Their Figs With You

"Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man."  - Benjamin Franklin

"All will concede that in order to have good neighbors, we must also be good neighbors. That applies in every field of human endeavor."  - Harry S. Truman

"A good neighbor shares his figs with you" - Ernest Hemingway 

Okay, I jest.  I just made that up.  Hemingway did not say that.  It seems like something that he might say, but not that I know of.  Our neighbors have three fig trees.  They had a fourth tree, but it died last year.  The other day, the neighbors asked if we'd like some figs.  "Of course," we replied.  In two shakes of a billy goat's tail, Tricia, Benjamin and I were circling the three fig trees, picking the ripest ones.

The figs were plump and sticky sweet.  We sampled a few right off the tree.  They were real good!

An interesting fact about figs is that it is an inverted flower.  The fig itself is not technically a fruit, but is a flower.  Odd.  What's not odd is what we are going to do with the figs we gathered from the neighbor's tree.  We ate a bunch of them raw and fresh.  The rest we have frozen - about two gallons of figs are now individually frozen and stored in zip loc bags in the freezer.

We'll add the sweet frozen figs, peaches and local honey to goat kefir smoothies for breakfast.  Thank God for good neighbors who share their figs with us.

Strange Fruit Indeed!

Way back in 2016, we posted THIS ENTRY in which we had a taste test of strange fruits that we were not accustomed to eating.  Well, we found another fruit to add to our 'strange fruit taste test challenge.'  After church on Sunday night, a church member asked us to go to the fellowship hall since she had something for us to try.  She said that she knows I like to grow strange stuff in the garden and thought I might like to try something.

She then pulled these unusual things out of a ziploc bag:

Strange indeed!  They look like sea urchins or a little like the seed pod that falls off of a sweet gum tree.  There is a local donut shop in our town that a couple from the Philippines owns.  They ordered a big bag of these things from back home and shared them.

What are they?  They are called rambutan and are a tropical fruit native to southeast Asia, but has spread to other tropical areas.  Rambutan is derived from the Indonesian word for hair or "messy hair" in Vietnam.

The spines aren't sharp and the skin is leathery and separates easily from the fruit.  The exposed fruit is translucent white.

The fleshy fruit pops right out of the outer protective skin.  It is round and soft to the touch.

I just popped it in my mouth whole, but was told to be careful as there is a large seed inside.  The seed is about the size and shape of an almond.  Sow what does it taste like?  It tastes great!  It has a sweet taste most similar to that of a grape, but is much better in my opinion.

Russ had already studied them and tasted them in college.  I wanted to save the seeds and attempt to grow them, but Russ told me that they will not grow here.  There was an effort to introduce them into the United States, but the only place that they can get them to grow is Puerto Rico.  Too bad.  Rambutan are really good eating and I'd love to be able to grow some weird fruit at my house.

From Cropland to Subdivisions

Sometimes things sneak up on you.  Gradually, slowly, things around you change and you don't even notice.  For some reason on the drive home the other day, I turned the radio down and began looking out of the window and noticed building taking place.  That is a good thing.  People need jobs.  Jobs provide money for families to purchase necessities, provide sustenance, engage in commerce and keep the cogs of our economy turning.  Those families launch their kids out into the world and the cycle continues.

What I noticed on each side of the road, was farmland being taken out of production and being sold primarily for homes to be built on. The photo below is right off of I-10 and shows a sugar cane field that has been sold and is being converted into a large, master-planned subdivision. Work is in the midst of being done, digging ponds, setting drainage, building roads.  Lots are being sold.

This photo is a bit closer to home off of Hwy 26.  It shows a parcel of land I judge to be around 80 acres.  It was in rice production for as long as I can remember, but is now fallow, overgrown with ragweed.  The yellow thing you spot in the middle is a Century 21 Realty For Sale Sign.  This land, I presume, will soon be subdivided and new homes will sprout up where rice formerly grew.

Progress, I guess.  The photo below is right in front of our home.  It has been fallow, but was previously in rice and soybean production.  The parcel of land in the background has lots for sale with homepads ready for new homes to be built for families fleeing the city in hopes of their kids attending the small rural school.  The land in the foreground where you see the tractor working has been planted in soybeans this year, but will soon have homes cropping up where crops once grew.

From the 2012 USDA AgCensus Report I learned the following:

In 2012, just over 40 percent of all U.S. land was farmland. The amount ofland in farms essentially held steady between 2007, when the last agriculture census was conducted, and 2012. In that same five-year period, however, the number of farms in the United States declined, and average farm size increased.

From that same report:

The United States had 2.1 million farms in 2012. This was 4 percent fewer than in 2007, continuing a long-term decline in the number of farms.

We see a revolution taking place.  Fewer farms with larger farm sizes.  In effect, corporate farms.  The family farm is slowly going extinct.  Agricultural research has doubled crop yields.  Technology has enabled fewer farmers to be able to manage vast acreage.  Our farmers are so efficient, able to feed the United States while also exporting commodities worldwide. 

While from a business perspective, this is an assuredly positive development.  But the stewardship of the land, I fear, will suffer.  Family farms had people with a vested interest in the land.  Land passed on from generation to generation.  I'm old fashioned.  Such "progress" saddens me.

I can remember working so hard to clear farmland to plant, picking up pine knots, piling them up to burn, clearing tallow trees and pine trees to make way for cropland to plant on "rested land."  It was hard work.  Land like this is now being paved over, making way for homes and strip malls.  It will never be cropland again.  Empty Wal Mart bags will soon be blown by the wind, littering land that once was productive cropland.  I never want to see this happen to our farm. 

Made a Few Jars of Pickled Banana Peppers

This year I had the foresight to plant my banana peppers on the opposite side of the garden from the jalapenos.  Last year I planted them too close together and all the banana peppers were hot.  Don't get me wrong, I like hot peppers, but there is a time and place for them.  I also like a mild banana pepper that has been pickled in vinegar to eat alongside rice & gravy and meat. 

The pepper plants have been producing and we eat them mainly raw - most of the time right off the plant.

The other day I picked all the big ones off the plant, but there are many more little ones growing with blooms that promise more peppers.

It was time to do a quick batch of pickled banana peppers.  I put a pot on the stove with 3 cups vinegar, 2 cups water, 2 tablespoons kosher salt and 1 tablespoon sugar.  I brought that to a boil and then let it completely cool.

Meanwhile I crushed a garlic clove and put one in the bottom of each of the four jars of peppers that I was pickling.  Then I packed two of the jars with sliced banana peppers.  I packed them in real tight.

For two of the jars, I cut the banana peppers into rings, just to mix things up.  I packed those in tight, too. 

Then I poured the cooled pickling liquid into each of the jars, bringing the liquid all the way up to the top.

Then I placed them in the fridge where I'll let them 'marinate' for a few days before I eat them.

We may even have these jars polished off by the time the next crop is ready to be picked and pickled!

Beetle Power

Yesterday at work I spotted something interested moving on the sidewalk.  I had to stop and pick it up.  It was an amazing huge beetle - the biggest I've ever seen!  It was greenish-colored with black spots.  I admired it and brought it inside to show the folks that work in my office.

I had no clue of what it was so I did a Google search on the image and then was able to research it further.  As it turns out, this beetle is the Dynastes tityus or Hercules Beetle.  This is actually the female as the male has a large horn protruding from its head.  It is called a Hercules beetle because it can carry 850 times its weight!  It is among the largest and strongest of beetles.  Their lifespan as adults is only around 4 months and it feeds on rotting wood.  It lives in the southeast and its range extends to eastern Texas, so it is right on the boundary of its normal range.

I let the old girl go in the grass on the side of the office.  If its lifespan is only 4 months, I figured it had places to go and people to see.

One Of Our Favorite Ways to Cook Okra

We've been picking a lot of okra lately.  We have one row of closely planted okra on one of the last rows in the garden.  The thing about okra is that it will continue to produce okra for months!  That also means that you have to have more than a few ways to cook okra in your repertoire or you'll tire of it.  I pick a colander full every day.  Everyday picking is a must or your okra will get too big and "woody" and will be inedible.

The three varieties we have are shown below.  On the left is Clemson Spineless Okra.  In the middle you'll see Burgundy Okra.  On the right we see Beck's Big Okra.

One of the favorite ways that we like to cook it is Oven Fried Okra.  First thing we do is cut up the fresh okra into bite size pieces.  The recipe (we found on the Internet) calls for 4 cups of cut up okra.  To be honest, I think our family has graduated to doubling the recipe as we gobble up four cups mighty fast!

We preheat the oven to 425 degrees and put 3-4 tablespoons of coconut oil on a baking sheet.  We place the baking sheet in the oven and let it warm up.

To make the 'batter,' we combine 4 tablespoons of cornmeal, 6 tablespoons panko breadcrumbs, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon pepper, and 1 tablespoon Parmesan cheese.  We put it all in a bowl, but you might also use a ziploc bag or paperbag. 

In a separate bowl we beat two eggs and toss the cut up okra into the beaten eggs until they are coated.  Then we toss into the cornmeal mix until the okra is coated fully with the batter.

We arrange on the baking pan with the heated coconut oil in one layer and bake for 15-20 minutes, turning once during baking at the halfway point.  Continue baking until they are golden brown.

This is a family-pleasing meal.  Take my word for it.  There will be no leftovers!

Bidding Farewell to the 2018 Tomato Crop

When temperatures are hotter than 85-90 degrees during the day and 75 degrees at night, tomatoes will stop setting fruit.  Since we've surpassed those milestones, the tomato crop of 2018 has come to a close.  This doesn't mean the plants themselves stop growing.  To the contrary.  The plants that once were trellised neat and orderly, have become a jumbled mass of itchy vines, buzzing stink bugs, and reminds me of a jungle.

Each day I've gotten on my hands and knees and crawled underneath the canopy of tomato vines to harvest tomatoes, but the actual harvest has dwindled to almost nothing.

Even though there are a few tomatoes that continue to ripen, they are few and far between and the quality of them is suspect.  The stink bugs have done a real number on them and most have soft spots on them that make them impossible to store for more than a day before they start to go bad.  Sweet potato vines that grew up volunteer from last year's crop have started to vine up on the tomato trellises.

Knowing the crop was done, on Saturday Russ and I assembled a wagon, a machete and some clippers and got busy.  It was a hot, humid, and rigorous task, but we ultimately prevailed over the vines and removed the entire tomato crop and trellis system.  The garden is open now and looks so strange after having foliage covering these five and a half rows for months now.

This healthy Beauregard Sweet potato will now thrive with its competition removed.  Its vines are a little trampled from Russ and I walking on them while we were removing the tomatoes, but it won't take long for them to heal up and spread out all over the rows once occupied by tomatoes.



Here is a Golden Wonder heirloom variety sweet potato that came up on its own.  Although small, it will spread out in no time.

The ground doesn't stay fallow for long.  We rotate crops and even rows within the garden, but as soon as one crop ends, we follow up with another shortly.  All in all it was a fantastic year for tomatoes and we put up a lot of tomatoes in the pantry.  So much so that I'll probably drastically scale back my plans for a fall tomato crop.  Farewell 2018 tomato crop.  Only 6 months before we plant the 2019 crop.  Tick tock....