Roots and Panini

Bologna: Yup, That's the Italian Dictionary

I’m Italian. By most standards I’m actually a mutt – a quarter Italian, a quarter Russian, and a half mixture of German, Dutch, English, and a bit of hazy after that.  But of all the wonderful cultures that grafted themselves together to yield my family tree, I'm convinced that my Italian roots have a direct sap-line to my heart. Growing up my sisters often remarked about my olive insta-tan skin and my inclination to communicate through food. In college I enrolled in Italian 101 and studied in Bologna for a five-week language intensive program. Five years later, my mother (who is half Italian), took our family on a two-week trip to Tuscany in a splurge of generous exuberance. I soaked up every ounce of it like a dry sponge thrown into the ocean. Even now, seven years since, I catch myself deciphering how to say something in Italian. It doesn't sound as pretty from my lips as it once did…but I want to make sure it can still be done. The older I am, the stronger the kinship I feel to the homeland of my great-grandparents. But it’s more than the country itself that enraptures me. It’s the mindset, the values, the nuances of BE-ing Italian. In many ways, my homestead way of life echoes and encourages similar points of view. And, of course, there’s the food...which is much more a way of life than merely a source of nourishment. To which I say, “Exactly!”

Chicks Dig Brooders

Though this is a homestead blog, I feel compelled to clarify that by "chicks" I don't mean girls and by "brooders" I don't mean mysterious & moody boys...though I suppose one could argue the point. I'm talking much more literally about the fuzz-bodied winged variety and their nursery of sorts.

This week was significant on our homestead. First, Wednesday was the beginning of spring a.k.a the vernal equinox -- when the sun spends identical shifts above and below the horizon making day and night equal in length for a 24-hour period. As of this day, winter had to relinquish its reign to spring...at least in title if not yet in temperature. To know spring is officially here makes my cells dance with excitement. To top it off as an unofficial christening to the season, our batch of one hundred chicks arrived this afternoon!

Gettin' Eggy With It

It was snack time in second grade. My friend Stacy* and I sat with the cornucopia of our lunchboxes displayed before us, playing and joking about who knows what. Somehow relating to our reverie I picked up her egg salad sandwich in its tidy zipper bag and nonchalantly smushed it with both my hands. If you envision a rambunctious little boy squeezing a tube of toothpaste with the cap on just to see what would happen you have a glimpse of the scene. The two of us then continued with our giggly play. At the end of snack we packed up our boxes and returned to our lessons...and I obliviously went about my morning. Later our teacher Mrs. Jones came to me questioning why on earth I would smash Stacy's sandwich leaving her lunch-less. I innocently replied, "I really don't like egg salad." Naturally, a mild reprimand ensued and I (being somewhat of a goodie-two-shoes) promptly apologized to Stacy and hung my head in shame. When lunchtime came around I munched on whatever blase item was packed for me...but Stacy got to choose a delectable offering that Mr. & Mrs. Schmidt were serving for hot lunch in the cafeteria. Lucky! Surely I had done her a favor...

*The names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent. The only exception would be me -- who was absolutely guilty as charged.

Demolition Derby: She's A Brick House...Or Used To Be

I'm speechless...well, almost. I was tempted to post only pictures for this one because, as they say, they're worth a thousand words. However, my affection for the written word cannot be suppressed. While the photos throughout will tell almost all of the tale, I'll obligingly provide the embellishments.

Yum, Yum Eat 'Em Up

Despite the fact that we ate sitting on the living room rug with our chins practically resting on the coffee table, last night's dinner was so delicious it felt like we were celebrating! In hopes that folks the world over will replicate and relish in it as much as we did, I'm writing a special food post (which I intend to do more of in the coming weeks). Besides the delectable taste, the greatest parts about this meal were that it was easy to make, included a healthful smattering of ingredients, and featured an almost pedestrian dish -- pork chops. Chops get a bad rap because they're common fare and often poorly cooked. Nothing says yuck like a shoe-leather, rubbery chop from factory-farmed pork; but a thick-cut pastured pork chop cooked to perfection warrants some major mouth-watering. I marched to our deep freezer yesterday morning to find what vestiges I could from last year's hog. Sure enough a package of 1-1/2 inch chops was beaming with celestial light in front of me. Yum. Below are very simple iron skillet instructions for the tastiest chops ever. The accompanying veggies that graced our plates alongside the meat are also well worth it (*Don't miss the veggie recipe at the bottom.*).

Demolition Derby: Bringin' Down the House

I confess I'm feeling muscles today that I haven't felt in quite a while. I suppose five hours of hammering, chiseling, squatting, bending, pulling, and wrestling with a pry bar could be the culprit. Yesterday was the official start of our newest homestead project -- a house demo.

Living Room Flooring Before

Living Room Flooring After

SOLD! ...To the Highest Bidder

This time of year in our neck of the woods we're on the cusp of something grand -- Auction Season! In our county there are land and real estate auctions year round, but Weldon and I neither have the pocketbook for nor interest in such large-scale purchases. However, our interest abounds in treasures untold, stuff that has a story, and...let's be honest...a good bargain. Spring fever has started to perk but we're not quite ready to get caught up in the great outdoors. Instead, we've begun eyeing the newspaper for sales and can feel in our bones that Auction Season, like spring, is about to unfurl in a glorious array before our very eyes. From now until autumn the affairs are frequent and the variety of goods available exponentially increases. So much for Sotheby's -- we're off to a good country auction where the mono-syllabic babbling is peppered with jokes about cornbread and the concession stand is graciously goopy! Just last night we bought a passel of new and nearly-new tools that will come in handy for homestead construction projects in the coming years. We also chalked up the outing as our celebration of Weldon's birthday (which he gladly shouldered). We gained MUCH more than we spent in the evening and had a blast. What a win-win!

Spoils from last night!