Syrup Sunday and Squash Flower Pancakes

Early in our marriage Weldon and I realized that breakfast had a myriad of bothersome time-constraints.  Plain eggs, homemade yogurt, or some other quick bite just didn't do justice to the variety of options that should have been at our fingertips.  So, we decided that on random Sunday mornings we would celebrate this oft-rushed meal.  We called it Syrup Sunday.  Whatever was on the menu, it would be drizzled with straight-from-Vermont pure maple syrup (locally purchased from an organic farm/orchard during our family's annual October reunion).  Waffles, french toast, and pancakes graced our plates.  It became obvious that pancakes won out as our favorite...so we had a household-sized IHOP on our hands.  Blueberry pancakes, peach pancakes, strawberry pancakes, banana pancakes, and the list goes on.  This weekend we were inspired to have a Syrup Sunday after visiting Weldon's aunt and uncle's garden on Saturday morning.  At one point, his aunt nonchalantly asked, "Do you want any squash flowers?"  With our own squash plants falling prey to vine borers, I jumped at the chance and instantly put a Syrup Sunday on the docket for the following morning.  "YES!!" Weldon exclaimed at his good fortune.  Below is my tried and true pancake batter recipe with an adaptation for squash flower pancakes. Here's hopin' you find a Syrup Sunday in your future!

Land, Ho!

This month will go down in my history as a major "FIRST".  I bought land!  I married into 40 acres that Weldon already owned; but these 30 acres we eyeballed, calculated, negotiated, and signed on the dotted line for together. This post is about land ownership -- an integral part of our homestead -- but it is just as much about a more subliminal subject: money.  In a day and age when this topic is politically hot and socially taboo, our culture is motivated by excess and plagued by financial illiteracy.  I'm no financial expert, but in the last five years I've taken my education into my own hands in a desperate search for balance, simplicity, and security.  So far, I'm living on the smallest paycheck yet, but with a greater sense of abundance and the most financial freedom I've ever had.  Had we not had enough of our greenbacks in a row, we never would have been able to scribble our signatures on a deed when the right moment fell in our lap.

The Quirky World of Kombucha

Sweet Tea (Right) meet Kombucha (Left)

Kombucha (Kahm - BOO - chuh) sounds like the name of an alien queen about to launch an inter-galactic attack.  Fortunately for you and me, it is actually a fizzy, refreshing beverage that's simple to make at home and, like all ferments, carries a litany of health benefits (Sorry, no vaporizing laser guns). Weldon brews a batch of this fermented black tea nearly every week.  We typically gulp the last drop just in time for the next batch to be poured up and chilled in the fridge. While some fermented drinks also create alcohol (think of grain-based beers or fruit-based wines), kombucha is not an alcoholic ferment.  It's bubbly zing has a tasty finish that resembles a yeasty apple-y cider -- though go figure, it doesn't contain any apples.  It's a healthful and delicious treat for anyone.  Despite its exotic name and persona, kombucha is one of the easier ferments to undertake, in my opinion.  If you're interested at all in incorporating fermentation into your culinary skills and dietary enjoyment (and health!), I highly recommend kombucha as an introduction.  Soon, you may find yourself collecting crocks and jars to also make sauerkraut, pickles, vinegars, and more!  For more detailed reading about fermentation including specifics about kombucha, anything by Sandor Ellix Katz is a MUST.  The recipe below is derived from Katz's Wild Fermentation.

How Does Your Garlic Grow?

Once upon a time there was a little girl who ate raw onions like apples, broccoli by the head, and garlic bread by the loaf.  As a tween, she thought it was cool to wear a t-shirt which read, "A Clove a Day Keeps the Devil Away."  She grew up healthy and strong (and routinely knocked out entire villages with her dragon breath).  Now she is living happily ever after in her garden where she grows onions, broccoli, and tons of garlic.  THE END...sort of.

Breaking Bread...and Beans

This past Thursday marked the 237th anniversary of our nation's founding. Americans from coast to coast celebrated with thunderous fireworks, patriotic melodies, and gluttonous cookouts.  Many inches of rain falling on south central Kentucky added a particularly sloshy feel to our week's activities. Our grills may have been dampened, but our spirits were not. Both sides of our family still gathered for belt-loosening cook-ins complete with mountains of potato salad and rivers of sweet tea.  There was much story-telling, many good laughs, and lots of family catch-up...a perfect holiday if you ask me.  Surprisingly, of all the meals, traditions, and visiting this week, it was another communal activity -- one significantly less detrimental to the waist-line -- that lingered in my mind as I sat to write this week's post.  It was the ritual of breaking green beans.