Amuse Bouche

Weekend Farmstand Haul

A sunny Saturday and the top down. I went out rte 119 to Groton, back to Pepperell and Littleton and then a stop in Concord.  Here is a paleo girl's haul of goodies and delights.

John Crown Farm for another free range chicken, a rib eye, some grass fed ground beef, and a lovely bunch of red onions.

Springdell Farm for some of their goat for curry, beef tenderloin for his majesty, he who only likes the tenderest part of the cow, and a few packs of pork chops.  I also grabbed one of their punnets of cherries.  There is a little sign that says they come from a local gentleman's tree.  I bought one last year and I don't think it made it home intact.  I spent the ride popping cherry pits along 119 like a crumb trail.  This time it made it home and The Stig, as you can see, enjoyed them as well.

Spring Brook Farm for milk for husband, cream, fresh garden peas, a few ears of corn on the cob (yea, not paleo I know, but Native Americans were HUNTERS AND GATHERERS. 1 ear people, I had 1 ear), Cabot cheddar from the wheel for his majesty the cheddar lover, a yellow tomato, eggs and a few zucchini.

Again Stig would like to show you how good the peas were.

Last stop was Concord Fish & Prime for some steaks for the grill and more goat which was absolutely divine.  Really people you need to climb aboard the goat train it's delicious and unlike goat cheese can do goat meat does not taste like a goat smells.  

Later I'll tell you about the porchetta we did on the spit on Sunday.  The Stig was waiting for me to finish.

 

 

 

John Crow Farm Spit Roasted Free Range Chicken

See that deliciousness spinning down below?  That my little chicken skeptics was the finest chicken I have eaten in a very, very long time.  It might involve a little work or travel to get it, but it was worth every delicious bite.

My Dad moved to Newburyport a few weeks ago and I told him I was looking for grass fed beef so if he passed any in his travels I asked him to let me know.  Bright and early on a sunday morning he sent an email with just this picture enclosed.

He lives near the Newburyport farmer's market which runs on Sunday morning and he had seen this vendor there.  A little google detective work later I found out the farm was located out near my favorite driving route out through Pepperell and Bolton.  It was a gorgeous sunny day so I threw some ice in the cooler and Panther and I hit the road.

The farm is right off 119 on Old Ayer Road and is really easy to find.

I pulled up and these ladies cruised right on over.  Yup, about as free range as can be.  You know the seagulls in Finding Nemo?  I kept hearing these chickens saying "car.  car.  car. BUG!, car, car".

And there were these lovely bovines hanging out under a nice shady tree.

There is a small store on the grounds with a few chest freezers inside and some products from the nearby Herb Lyceum sprinkled around.  One freezer was empty but the other had these lovely chickens inside.

I chatted with the woman for a bit and found out there wasn't much in the store because they had picked up most everything that morning to hit the farmer's markets.  They go to three on Sunday alone and there is a link on the website that shows their farmer's market schedule.  I'm probably going to contact them next time to see if I can have what I want to order remain at the farmstand so I can pick it up.

This past Sunday after a gorgeous morning spent at British Car Day at the Larz Anderson museum I decided it was time to break out the grill and the spit. I raided the herb beds, made a compound butter, tucked it under the skin, threw the rest inside with some lemon chunks and strapped it on the spit.

I could spend some time here trying to find some nice florid prose to describe the taste, but really, in the end what I would be trying to say is that it tasted like chicken.  Real chicken.  Not flaccid grocery store, factory raised, corn fed chicken, but real chicken, almost quail or pheasant like.  It had *gasp* TASTE!  We had some for dinner that night and then I made the rest into some killer chicken salad for lunches this week. 

So if you are looking for a nice ride on a weekend and some delicious meats, look for them at the farmer's market or take a nice ride down 119 like I do and hit all the amazing places.  I'm sure I'll be there this weekend.

John Crown Farm- Groton, MA

 

 

 

Route 119 Windy Roads and Farm Stands - Oh My!

Another gorgeous Saturday morning in New England and I packed the ice packs in the cooler bag.  Grabbed my Gran's harvest basket and sprayed on the sun screen.  I packed everything in the convertible trunk and set the ipod to a favorite playlist and headed out.

First stop was the Waltham farmers market.  I will admit to being disappointed this year, perhaps it is still early, but there are only two vendors selling produce, okay three, if you count the ladies with the greens.  There is no way I can get to the two other newton farmers markets during the week because of the hours they run, not to mention they don't even start until after the 4th of July, so I rely on Saturday markets to stock up. Oh you crazy California kids who have year round farmer's markets go ahead laugh as you watch the East coast brethren suffer with just a few measly months a year. Wipe that smug look off your face right now, I can see you. Waltham market is great if you want baked goods, eggs, photography, purses, soap or music, not so great for vegetables.  I'm going to hope more vendors add on later in the season.  I did manage to get a very large zucchini for $1.00.  That will get sliced in rings, dredged in spiced flower and sautéed up with some haloumi for dinner next week.  You can keep all your tiny zucchini, give me the giant-seed-filled-hidden-under-the-leaves-until-it's-a-baseball-bat-size zucchini any day.  The red leaf lettuce looked gorgeous so I grabbed one for salads and a nice punnet of red gooseberries will make a lovely fool later in the week the gooseberries lightly poached, cooled and then mixed with crushed up meringues and whipped cream.  When husband heard the plan he said, why bother, you married one - those silly Brits.

I left the market and headed out West on route 20 through Weston and Lincoln to Concord and picked up rte 2.  At the rotary I headed off the 2nd spoke towards Acton and route 119.  I lived in Acton for a few years so this strip of the road is quite familiar, just a few malls and plazas with grocery stores and clothing stores, but I did notice a big Brazilian presence with flags on the roadside and a shop in one plaza called Popular Brazil.  I'll have to go back and check that out on another trip. I decided I would head all the way out to Ashby mentally marking all the places I would stop on the ride back.  Why Ashby? Ashby has the finest stretch of 119 a stretch that is absolute heaven to drive. It winds though Willard Brook State forest on a freshly paved piece of tarmac with gorgeous curves, shaded tree canopy over head, streams on the side, places to pull over and picnic, oh, and did I mention the curves?  Panther really, really likes curvy roads.  I drove it to the end of the stretch, turned around and wound my way back down again with a very happy grin on my face.  Now it was time to start hitting the farm stands.

First stop was the Spaulding Cooperage.  The building hangs right over the falls and the sound is just gorgeous. 

Inside is an antique co-op filled with old and new doodads, gee gaws, shappy chic and grandma's closet.  I poked around for old tea towels and kitchenalia and headed out again.

My first farm stand stop was Greg's Farm in Pepperell a stand who tempted me with a sign that said Butter and Sugar corn.  In June?  In Massachusetts? The ears were very small, but the corn perfectly formed.  I am guessing they must have a field further south near Connecticut and they move it up here.  None of the corn fields I passed are high enough to be producing anything yet.  But I succumbed and bought a few ears.  They had local peas and strawberries and the first summer squash and zucchini, but I knew I had more stops so the corn would have to do. 

Off to the next stop R. Wilkin's Farm.  The outside is loaded with plants and herbs to buy and I noticed the sign as I walked in that sad florist and the inside looks like just that, an old florist shop.  I am guessing that they grew over time from a florist to a garden center and as an afterthought added some produce.  They had a few local cherries and strawberries and local grown hothouse tomatoes, but everything else was bought from a produce wholesaler.

Coming into Groton I stopped to take a picture of this house.  I'd love to know the history behind the house.  I love the imposing gates and the stone walls all locally found I'm sure.  Since it is in the town center and the center is pretty old I am guessing the house is old as well.  If anyone knows the story behind the house drop me a line.

My next stop was Spring Brook Farm.  A combination garden center and farm store they also raise and sell their own beef. 

I hopped out of the car and wandered over to visit the cows. 

Very curious about this crazy lady with the camera they wandered over and eyed me suspiciously.  I did get one nose rub in though for good measure. The store is small and quaint with a freezer case full of their own meats and some local cheeses and half gallons and pints of their own milk.  They had local peas, so I filled up a bag and they had early zucchini. The corn said it was from Connecticut but the hothouse grown tomatoes here smelled right so I picked up a few.  A jar of their rhubarb jam leapt into my hands and an interesting barbecue sauce.  I've been craving barbecued chicken for awhile now so I'll report back on how it is later.  The sauce is Kansas city style if any one cares to know.  Across the street from Spring Brook is yet ANOTHER farm stand, but I will save that one for another day. 

Out the lot and left again I would my way to Springdell Farm the last stop on my trip today.  It wasn't the produce I was after here, but they have grass fed beef and they carry local farm raised pork products and I was looking for some country style ribs for my SD's retirement party next weekend.  Sadly they were out of pork, but I spied a little sign next to some half pints of cherries.  The sign said they came from one of their uncle's cherry trees and I couldn't resist.  I'd show you a picture, but they didn't last the ride home on the passenger seat.  I left a trail of cherry stems from Littleton to Newton.

All this and more on Route 119 and I didn't even get to tell you about the ice cream stands, The Herb Lyceum, Meat market, small shops and antique shops I passed on my journey.  This road is going to be getting a lot of time over the summer and I can't wait to drive it in the fall!

A brief Mid Coast Maine Roadtrip

My Freedom Fridays will be ending soon with the arrival of Summer Camp at Create a Cook.  Classes all day 5 days a week.  34 new faces will parade through the door every week through September.  Add to that corporate events and date night weekends and a few other things we have up our sleeve and it looks to be a very busy summer.

Mom and SD are driving to Canada next weekend for a family reunion with SD's family so I took a last chance drive up to visit Mom before the insanity begins.  Mom took the day off working from home and we hopped in her Jeep and headed out 17 to the coast, mid coast Maine, Rockland area to be precise.  We had a few missions from some research I did and @mainelife told me not to miss Beth's Farm Market so a plan was hatched.

Mom had been seeing ads for Moose Crossing garden center in Woldoboro so we mosied over there first using the good old iphone as GPS.  We passed the infamous Moody's diner crowded with lunchtime patrons and tooled a bit further up rte 1 to Moose Crossing.  I'm sorry to the locals who adore it but no garden center in Maine that I have seen will ever beat Longfellow's in Manchester.  We had the obligatory walk around the greenhouses and picked up some herbs and a few black eyed susan vine to replace the bunny snacks.  Mom picked up a sweet autumn clematis to replace the one she lost two winters ago and replete with our purchases we re-configured the GPS to get us to Beth's Farm Market. 

Beth's is decidedly off the beaten track but the occasional hand painted sign stuck to a pole or a tree with BETH'S and an arrow kept us on track which is good because AT&T has zero signal in that hood.  We turned a corner in the road and admired the fields being worked and on the left was a flower filled adorable barn. Inside? Holy mother of yumminess! They had some of the most perfect freshly picked still damp peas which I immediately stuffed in a bag, my finger is still tinted green from all the shucking but those were the sweetest happiest popping bursts of pea flavor I've had since Grandma's garden.  It's so important o have peas as close to when they were picked as possible.  They had their own greenhouse grown cucumbers, yes, 1 please.  Then I stood and read the sign above the tomatoes.  They grew them locally in their greenhouses.  I thought oh yea sure, another greenhouse grown tomato how good can it be?  I picked up a choice one and sniffed it.  Damn, it actually smelled like a tomato.  Mom wandered over and expressed her doubts about hothouse tomatoes, but we decided based on the smell to pick up 3 anyway.  Let me not keep you in suspense.  That tomato was so DAMN good Mom and I stood over the sink with the kosher salt and ate it all while occasionally moaning and exclaiming how we could not believe we were eating something that tasted like a REAL TOMATO in early June in cool and cloudy Maine. We picked up a jar of their house made spicy dill pickles and pickled hot peppers for my stepdad's Bloody Mary's.  I picked up bread and butter pickled fiddleheads (I KNOW!) and something labeled grape juice.  Grapes are put up in a syrup at their peak and left to steep.  The liquid is a gorgeous reddish purple and the little grapes are floating around inside just WAITING to go on a spear for a grape martini later.

Then I noticed those shore greens.  I've never heard of them before so I grabbed one of them, rather like a blade of grass and bit in.  Instantly you get a nice salty bite with a green background.  Delicious.  I asked what you would do with them and the girl said some people cook them like fiddleheads and others just cut them up and add them to a salad.  A really unique sensation.  I didn't buy any here but later at the fish market we found in Rockland I had to grab a bag. The last grab were some punnets of fresh dug red potatoes. 

We left Beth's and headed to Rockland proper to track down a fish market to finish our now formed dinner of garden peas, fresh dug potatoes with garden chives and a salad with those heavenly tomatoes. A quick iphone google and we found Jess's fish market right on South Main Street in Rockland.  Small, clean and well stocked with beer, wine, and fish, they even pack to ship.  They had smoked Alewife, soft shell crabs, local oysters, house smoked Finnan Haddie and loads of other tempting items.  We picked up some swordfish for dinner at Moms request and then I bought the most gorgeous halibut steak I have seen in ages to take home for husband on Saturday night and a Finnan Haddie for chowder later.  They graciously packed it all in a styrofoam box for us with some ice because not only had I not brought my camera (all photos are iphone) but I also forgot to pack a cooler and ice packs.  I'm obviously out of practice. Jess's market is highly recommended I wish I had a local market like this in Newton. 

On our drive home I chewed on goose grass and drank a local ginger beer and we lamented the fact that we didn't live closer to Beth's Farm market because that place could be seriously addictive, but an hour and a half drive for produce probably isn't going to happen all that often.  We wound our way home and feasted on a dinner that all came from the borders of our favourite state. Maine.  The way life should be.

12 hours in the Kitchen with Ali: Osso buco, Veal Stock, Split Pea Soup, Lancashire Hot Pot and an experiment

Ali was back home from the UK on another school break so I invited him over on friday for an all day cook-a-thon while my chimney guys came and repaired the flu for the living room chimney.  All week I plotted and planned to try and decide what we were going to cook. In the end it was rather a hodge podge of dishes, but braise and simmer seemed to be the keywords.

I started at 9:00 getting the bones ready to roast for the veal stock.  30 pounds of veal bones hit the oven to get nice and brown.

Once the bones hit the oven we started the split pea soup. Bernie, my half pig from Heritage Hill Farm had a few gorgeous smocked hocks and one of husband's favourites is split pea soup. I thawed a hock out and tipped that in a pot with some sweated carrot, celery, garlic and onion, tossed in a few bay leaves and 1 package of green split peas, 1 package of yellow split peas and a load of water and set the white pot on a diffuser plate on a back burner to simmer away.

Meanwhile Ali kept checking the stock to see if we needed to skim the scum.  

Next I had seen something over at Ideas in Food where they made perfect soft scrambled eggs using an Isi cream dispenser.  I forwarded the link off to Ali who is obsessed with all things related to molecular gastronomy or new cooking techniques.  I picked up a new Isi at Restaurant Depot on Thursday and set up the thermal immersion circulator on the counter.  Eggs, butter, salt, hot sauce and skim milk were mixed and then poured in the canister.  This sat in an 82C water bath for 1 hour. 

We let the canister rest and added to nitrous charges and shook, shook, shook the canister, but sadly in the end we had to scrape out the eggs.  82C is below eggs coagulation point of 180F so we aren't sure why it didn't work so we will test it again dropping it a degree or two and doing it for a little less time.

They tasted mighty fine though.

While the soup was simmering and the veal stock gently bubbling we started on the osso buco.  I'm not going to bother giving you the recipe because we loosely followed the one in Molly Stevens All About Braising and if you don't own that book yet I really don't know what you are waiting for.  Every damn idea in that book is delicious.  We started them on the stove and popped it in a low over to do it's work.

Here they are at the half point stage.

And here they are completed.  At this point I popped it in the fridge and then last night as the teenage trick-or-treaters were stealing all of the candy in my bowl in one fell swoop, I reheated it in a low oven with a bit more of that fresh veal stock and made the risotto bed. Need I say yum?

The last project was a surprise for husband.  I made him Lancashire hot pot and braised red cabbage. I'm sad that I don't have any pictures of this dish because it was gorgeous with a cap of perfectly placed potatoes in concentric circles on the top. I will definitely be repeating this one again. Lamb loin chops, dredged, browned and added to a ton of onions, carrot and swede (rutabaga or purple topped turnip to me and you), veal stock and a few other things simmered UNDER a crust of thinly sliced potatoes.  

Here's Ali prepping the cabbage for the braised red cabbage and in the foreground is the gratin dauphinoise he whipped up with the leftover thinly sliced potato from the hot pot.  He had just made one last week when he took the Teens Cook: Julia Child class and this one was spectacularly good!  Traditionally Lancashire hot pot is served with pickled cabbage but husband who professes to hate vinegar and all things pickled said he would have preferred having the pickled cabbage over the braised cabbage.  Who knew?  I can't keep up. Ali ate so much of the red cabbage raw his lips and entire mouth were stained deep purple when I eventually sent him home with his Dad. I also apologised profusely to his Dad since i introduced Ali to Ideas in Food, StudioKitchen, JB Prince, Le Sanctuaire and a few other dangerous places. He left as excited as a kid at Christmas since he finally found where to order an anti griddle and a pacojet.  I don't think he shall ever be the same. He left on Halloween morning to go back to school for another semester but he'll be back for a long break in December and I have to come up with some plans to keep him busy!

Thus ended our long day mucking about in the kitchen.  Yesterday morning I portioned and froze the soup and then strained and packaged up the veal stock, labeled it and divided it amongst the freezers for the long winter ahead.  And I just have one thing to say about that stock.

  Look at that gelatin baby!

Heritage Hill Farm - The Half Pig

Oh the silence around here is deafening isn't it?  Well, I'll confess that there is some very big news coming soon, but I need to wait for some i's to be dotted and t's to be crossed before I share in the meantime I could use some crossed fingers okay?

In the meantime though I want to talk about pork.  Amazing, moist, delicious, kindly raised, well fed and nurtured pork.  You can read all about Heritage Hill Farm and the work Lani and her husband are doing to raise longhorn cattle, chicken and pigs and Lani's produce CSA. Go on, I'll wait.

Okay, now back in May when Mom called to tell me about the sign she passed on the road near our house in Maine I contacted Lani and had her send me a brochure and when I read it I had a passing thought about purchasing a pig, but really, where can one put a half a pig?  Then over the summer when I went to visit Mom we stopped by Lani's farm and I met the pigs, chatted with Lani about what they were doing at the farm and decided then and there that I was going to try and make this happen.  I started weeding though the chest freezer in the garage.  I wrote to Lani and asked how much space it would take up, 2X2X2 feet in case you were planning, and so I arranged the freezer with a big space in the center to bring it all home.  Lani and Mom and I went back and forth about dates.  The closing date for Maine is set in stone once Mom buys her plane tickets and so the first weekend in October was it.  Lani worked really hard to get the butcher and the smokehouse to coordinate.  Emails flew back and forth and a time was set for the pass off.  Mom and SD arrived just as the truck was arriving and 2 men loaded the pig into the trunk of the car and Mom wrapped a blanket around the box to try and keep it cold.  PIGS in a BLANKET...GET IT?  Alright, we thought it was funny.  I met Mom on route 1 in Saugus at her favourite pizza joint and we loaded Bernie into two coolers and had lunch before their flight.

Back home into the freezer Bernie went and I assure you there was not one spare inch of space in that freezer!  This weekend I broke out a package of the bacon to have for Sunday breakfast with some of Lani's eggs.  If the bacon was a precursor of what was to come, we were in for some great pork.  Lightly smoked and cured with I am assuming no nitrates because it was not that shade of nitrate pink we fried it up and had it with a golden yolk egg and plotted the roast for later.

I thawed out a 3.75 pound pork loin roast on the bone..mmmm...bones.  I consulted Delia and Hugh Fearnley-Whitingstall, Cooks and Pork & Sons, Bruce Aidelles, Anne Willan, Andre Soltner and Bourdain.  In the end I decided to wing it and combine a few ideas, but I followed Hugh's Sizzle, Roast and Rest method.

I made a paste of garlic and sage from the garden and poked some holes in the roast and pushed it in.  Then I salted it with flaky Maldon sea salt and popped it in a 450F oven for 20 mins.  At the 20 min mark I pulled it out and smeared it all over in Dijon mustard and then pressed on a mixture of panko crumbs, black pepper and more fresh sage, I put in the temperature probe set to 150F and put it back in the now cooler 325F oven and cooked it for 20 minutes per pound OR UNTIL the temp timer went off.  It took close to 2 hours. 

Once it reached 150F I removed it from the roasting pan and let it rest on the cutting board covered in a nice blanket of foil.

It rested for 20 minutes while the root veg got a good blast of heat.  It took every ounce of resistance I could muster to not start picking at the outside for a taste.

Finally we carved the pork. Moist does not even begin to describe this roast.  And people can I tell you something? It TASTED LIKE PORK.  REAL pork.  Not today's cardboard masquerading as pork but the real deal the stuff I remember from my childhood.  There was bone gnawing and lip smacking and praise to Bernie all around.  I made a pledge when Bernie came home to the freezer that I was going to do my best to honour this pig.  I plan to document every meal we make from Bernie and Lani...next year I want the head and the tail too!

Heritage Hill Farm, Belgrade ME

One day in May when Mom was up opening the house Maine for the season I got a call.  "You need to go on the Internet immediately!  I just passed a sign on the road to Dan's house that said pork and poultry!".  Google came to the rescue and that is how I first discovered the lovely Heritage Hill Farm.  I wrote an email to Leilani and told her that in the summer we live around the corner and that I was really excited to find someone doing this in our neighborhood.  Finally on my last trip up to visit Mom in August we drove by on a sunny afternoon and pulled in the drive trying to avoid all the chickens who were wandering about pecking in grass and the flower beds.  Lani was in the garden and she poked her head up and said 'Sorry, no eggs today'.  I hopped out of the Jeep with my camera and wandered over to the vegetable plot on the rise of the hill. Behind the vegetables were some longhorn steer wondering who this woman with the crazy devil horn hairdo was.

I introduced myself and Lani came down and asked if I'd like to meet the pigs.  Would I?  OF COURSE! So we sauntered across the lawn past the lovely old barn to the sound of large puppy barking his fool head off and came to the edge of the pig enclosure.  They had wandered out of the wallow area though the ubiquitous old New England stone wall to the other area. 

Lani called " here pig pig pig" a few times while we chatted and Mom said "Oh, here they come." And sure enough a mini herd of sure footed fat pigs came barreling over thinking that we were there to dispense some lovely restaurant leftover scraps.  Some of the local restaurants supply her with scraps from prep and being the discerning pigs they are, we laughed to find out that they were not as enamoured with the local inn's scraps because they were compacted a bit too much for their delicate taste buds.  Finicky!

She told me that her husband was in charge of all things with tails and she took care of the chickens and the vegetable CSA, but she knew they were Berkshire and some Berkshire/Tamworth cross.  While I was admiring the snouts that were being presented through the fence Mom turned around and noticed the incoming chicken invasion.

"We're being raided by the chickens".  Lani said they were just mooches and were always there when she fed the pigs to see if there were any good offerings for them.  Besides the egg layers, she had a movable, well movable with some brute force, enclosure for the hens she was raising to sell as roasters sometime around late Aug/early Sept.  I asked her about the cattle on the rise as I wasn't sure they were longhorns since the horns weren't really well, long.  Again she deferred to her husband, the nose and tail man and said they were a cross, but she couldn't recall what they were crossed with.  I asked about the abattoir and how they would deal with the cattle.  They will be field killed and then brought to my local favourite meat market Ballard's to be processed.  I had no idea Ballard's did that so when I swung by Wednesday on my way back home I talked to them about it.  It seems the business started out just to process the meat for local hunters and then grew into a meat market.  One of these falls I am going to ask the them if they would let me intern for a week.  I'd love to really work with a whole or half beast.  I've always loved butchery and the staff at Ballard's are seriously the happiest working group of people I have ever met.

We stood and chatted awhile longer about her produce CSA and this seasons horrid weather and the tomato blight as her father in law strolled past to head to the barn.  It seems the tractor is not playing nice in the sandbox that day and he was going to see if he could be the tractor whisperer and get it going. Before Mom and I left I asked her how long I had to decide whether I would buy a half pig.  Lani said until they are gone!  So I emailed her last night because Mom is heading up the first weekend in October to close the house for the season and she could swing by to pick up my pig for me.  She's going to check with the butcher to see when pickup might be, fingers crossed I could be having some lovely happily raised Berkshire pork this winter.  Oh and Lani...the sign worked!

The 420 mile Locavore or MA to ME and back in 24hrs

My Mom is now ensconced in her summer house for a month.  She and the 3 cats drove up from VA last Friday and of course as is her luck on vacation the weather has been poo.  I needed a break from the grind so Renee pushed me out the door of Create a Cook and demanded I take a few days off.  The pooper had a vet appointment Friday and her latest round of old age induced incontinence meant that husband stayed home and I hit the road for a road trip.

I called Mom Thursday morning and reported that I was hitting the road, but informed her that there would be a few stops along the way, I'd get there, I reported, when I got there.  My favourite kind of trip. A quick stop at the NH state liquor store for some wine meant that I would hit Kittery right around 11:00. 

Why does 11:00 matter you ask?  The well seasoned Maine traveler and the fried clam junkies will know that 11:00 on the dot is when Bob's clam shack opens and I, having not had fried clams a single time yet this "summer", was not going to pass on the opportunity.  Surprisingly on a gray and might i add cold July afternoon, rte 1 was dead as a doornail.  I pulled into Bob's stood second in the queue and ordered up my clams. No fries, no onion rings, no sides, just the clams please. I hopped back in the truck and opened up the $26.00 dollar of clams.  Yes TWENTY SIX DOLLARS worth of clams and this is what greeted me.

$26.00, you would shriek, for that?  Not only was it a paltry sum, but they were teeny tiny nickel sized clams that any clam aficionado would lament had ZERO bellies. Sigh.  Oh well, at least they were fried clams.  I snapped the pic above with my iphone and sent husband the picture with a note that read "I think you can guess where I am".

I pulled out of Bob's parking lot barely looking left or right since there was no traffic to speak of and headed left on route 1.  I like to meander around and up and down until around Ogunquit and then hit 95 again to head towards 295N. I saw far too many vacancy signs on the B&B path and any tourists that I did see out and about walking were wearing thick and heavy sweatshirts likely purchased at the local tourist shop.  In fact sweatshirts are probably the biggest tourist item this summer.  At least someone is making money in this cold and rain.

Around Wells I pulled in to a DD's to get some iced caffeine to keep me going for the 2 hours I still had on the road.

I veered off at 295 in Portland and swung through the bay on my way North.  My next stop, Hannaford's in Augusta.  Mom's friend Lizzie was up staying with her and they already had dinner planned so I had to stop in and pick up some extra supplies.  Of course I never, EVER leave Maine without a Whoopie pie.

This photo was snapped via the iphone and sent to husband along with a note that read..."And of course I had to buy some of these".

I had a lovely chat with a gentleman and his wife in the parking lot about the new restaurant being built on the hill in the adjacent plaza.  The one offering, "a nice view", commented the husband.  Sure, I guess if you like to watch the parking lot of Hannaford's and the Maine turnpike. Believe me in this part of town a new place to dine is BIG news.  He lamented the closing of Rustler a few years ago and informed me the place was "some Texas chain". I hopped in the truck and I took a left again and headed down some of my favourite roads to see my egg lady.  Her husband was out on his ATV in the driveway as I pulled in.  He saw me and turned off the ATV.  "Got any eggs?" I shouted.  He turned it back on and drove over to his porch and I hopped out of the truck and rambled onto his farmer's porch.  "How many?", "Two dozen please".  I took my eggs and we chatted about the weather, like you do, and I asked if he was having a hard time getting his hay in.  He said he only had 1 lot done and by now he should have 5.  I asked him what the forecast was for the next couple days and in his dry drawl he said "Rain, and then rain the next day and then some more rain, and I think rain later."  I chuckled and as I turned around to leave the porch I noticed the 2 freshly hatched kittens on the rocking chair and of course I squealed.  He said "Take one." I looked back at him and he said, 'No, really take one". I gave each kitten a scratch behind the ears and he hopped back on his ATV, "Got to go catch a cow that escaped this morning" and off he went.

I turned right and headed down to Puddledock road to head over to Ballard's my favourite local meat market. 

My buddy here is always waiting around on the other side of the door for a generous offering of bones or sometimes hot dogs. Another iphone snap I sent off to husband to keep him updated.  I picked up 5 pounds of bacon that I just finished sealing up and freezing courtesy this lovely machine.

 

Ballard's will also cold smoke anything you want!  In house that day they had house made smoked sausages and two smoked cheeses.  One was a smoked blue (4 hours in hickory smoke!) and they buy a whole Cabot cheddar wheel and sell enormous chunks of it.  I bought one plain and one smoked.  Mac & Cheese might never be the same, but right now a piece of smoked cheese and some Laphroaig is a pretty good summer evening nosh and tipple.  Especially when summer means 62F. I grabbed a few other lovely things and then headed back on the road to Mom.  I passed a few private roadside grab and pay stands that didn't have enough goodies worth stopping for.

When I got enough bars on the phone, I rang Mom to ask whether I took a right at the old church or stayed straight on to head over to the organic farm. I pulled up on the gravel drive and heard the DING DING of an old gas station air hose bell.  Instantly two barking and wagging Australian cattle dogs were at the truck door to greet me and little Sage popped her head out from the farm stand offering to take me on a farm tour.

I pulled this local yogurt out of the fridge(don't worry about the date, it's still quite lovely) while her mom came around the corner to tell me what had just been baked. 

I took her up on the blueberry pie to bring home to husband.  As I was leaving I snapped this picture and emailed it off saying "Your 3 favourite words!"

I took a left and headed off to Mom's.  On the camp road I scoped out the mushroom situation.  From the truck I could see Chanterelle and a few lobster mushroom, but I'm going to wait until I go the 1st week of August because I think just a few days of warm could make those woods pop!  I pulled down the driveway towards the lake, margaritas and some kittie love.

Thursday night the rains began in earnst.  By Friday mid-morning it was apparent that it wasn't going to let up so I packed up the truck and Mom followed me to Longfellow's to pick up a hanging plant to replace the one that drowned earlier this summer.  I tucked it safely on the floor of the passenger seat, set my iphone up as my GPS system, waved to mom who was heading to ballard's for lobster for her and SD who would arrive that night and headed off to find the Whole Foods in Portland to pick up the few items we would need around for the weekend.

 

I hit the highway around Augusta and followed this poor couple who were obviously on a road trip holiday.  the Harley itself was doing fine, but the trailer they were towing behind was hydroplaning like mad.  I followed him slowly for a few miles to stop the 18 wheelers carrying Wide Loads from riding up his ass and then passing him at 80.  Eventually he waved me on and pulled over under an overpass to wait it out.

Rte295 southbound is still closed so the North bound traffic can use it while their side is being paved.  You could see them working hard on my drive up.

The detour on that stretch of 295 takes you on a lovely 2 lane stretch of road called 201.  The road in fact passes by the dirt that Mom and SD bought last year to build on and retire to. It's close enough to be at the summer house more, yet not so far away they can't come mow the lawn and take in the mail.  Sadly the economic nose dive has put a damper on all that for now, but I told Mom I would scope out her new hood for good food finds on the way home.

My first stop was the nostalgic and soooo adorable Rocky Ridge Orchard.  I took a quick snap of the outside because I didn't want to be *that* food blogger snapping away at everything.  Of course there was already a woman inside with her video camera, *sigh*.  This little slice of perfect nostalgia has a wonderful old pie safe, 5 maybe six shelves high all covered in screen. 

I picked up husband a peach and raspberry pie.  As you can see upon my arrival home, he didn't even bother to wait for me to take a picture. He gave it his "Oh my" followed by food silence approval rating. This little gem of a place has homemade donuts, bismarks, cream horns, cider vinegar, local maple syrup, homemade rhubarb strawberry soda(!), sandwiches, crab rolls and soups set out in crock pots atop the vintage 1920's stove for self service. The creaking, slamming screen door just sealed the deal for me.  I will be back!

I pulled out, took a right and headed further south on 201.  A few miles down the road a pickup truck in front of me had his right directional on, as I slowed to wait for him to turn, I realised it was a farm stand and quickly pulled in after him.

It was the farmer making a delivery form the fields and he nodded and said hello.  His daughter came out to tend the stand and I picked up some of the finest strawberries I have smelled or tasted all year.  A container of just picked potatoes, some green beans and a zucchini polished off my order.  The sign inside the little stand said they grew everything they sold.  I asked the girl if the detour had been good for their business and she smiled and said "oh yea" with a nod. Another notch on my soon-to-return belt!

I knew that L.P. Bisson wasn't far from the farm stand so I turned right and headed for Meadow Road. I was here last year and learned all about this abattoir/butcher shop so I had to come back for more.  Ideas for dinner had been forming in my head as I was picking up items along the way. I bought a gorgeous local chicken, some pork butt for freezing, a pork tenderloin that is brining in the fridge as we speak.  A pint of unpasteurized chocolate milk for husband and I inquired about buying a roast with the skin on for crackling.  I spoke to the gentleman and he said he always keeps some pork shoulder with skin on from their pigs in the freezer.  Since my cooler was already full, I told him I'd be back in a week or so to pick that up!

I set my iphone GPS for Whole Foods in Portland, or course I had to explain no, not Oregon, Maine please, and took a right back on to 295S.  Holy cow, what a Whole Foods!  Ginormous! They have a granola bar to make your own, a macrobiotic and vegan bar, a sweet coffee bar, a rather decent beer and wine selection and parking lot CHOCK full.  I had to circle for space along with every other kayak covered, Mt. bike strapped car heading for their weekend away. One volvo in the lot was loaded nose to gill with interesting looking drum equipment made of gourds and skins and interesting things.

Back onto 295S, coffee in hand and another 2 hours ahead of me.  Everything was lovely until I hit 128S and ground to a halt around Lexington where we c-r-a-w-l-e-d until the Mass Pike exit.  When the truck was finally unloaded and a cocktail was in hand I began to cook a dinner from all the things that I gathered.  I called Mom and reported on my findings giving my seal of approval to her new neighborhood.

Can it be called Locavore or eating local when the goods came from 200 miles away? I think so but only if it involves a visit to see Mom.

Dinner

LP Bisson & Sons Meat ,Topsham ME

When I was up in Maine with Mom last she told me about this new meat market they discovered in Topsham.  They are looking for land to build a house and finally relocate from VA to Maine permanently to be near the summer house and closer to all of us.
Since rte 295 was still closed I took the detour on 201 and decided to stop in to check out LP Bisson.
Take Meadow Road which is right off 201 in Topsham and just look for the power lines and the cows and you will be close. 

It was a bit odd to see the cows out grazing near the power lines, but they seemed perfectly content and barely gave me a second glance when I wandered over to take their picture.

On the opposite side of the street is a much larger field and enormous birds swooping around overhead in the thermals that I believe were turkey buzzards.

The shop is clean and quaint and gives off a real old fashioned vibe. The room is lined with cases of meat all raised, slaughtered and butchered on site. 

There are pictures of the family from the 1940's and an aerial view of the farm arranged around the tops of the cases. 

Bisson raises their own cows, but they also raise pigs but can't produce enough pork to keep up with demand so they do bring in some pork from Canada. 
I was tempted by the cases and I bought some of their house made kielbasa, bacon and I almost came home with one or their whole smoked chickens.  Just as i wsa headed out the door I spotted a case with their own raw milk so I brought husband home a pint of their raw chocolate milk.
You can choose what you want out of the case or make a special request and watch them prepare it in the room off to the side.

I happened to arrive just as he was breaking down a section and I watched him work for awhile while we chatted.

Not only is Bisson a meat market but they are also the local abattoir.  I asked when their busy season was and he said there were a couple times a year when things really got busy.  People were already starting to book for their home reared animals to be brought in for the fall.  There is a sign on the wall explaining all the costs for breaking down the animal along with an admonishment that if you don't pick up your meat when you say you will storage fees will be charged!

If you're in this neck of the woods, stop by Bisson some time, and don't worry Ballards, I'm never going to leave you, but I may stop by here once in awhile.

LP Bisson and Sons
112 Meadow Road
Topsham, ME

Beera Farm and B&B near Dartmoor, Devon

When we began planning our trip we knew we would be driving around and would likely need to stay one or two days in a location before moving on.  I started researching B&B's and then discovered a whole site devoted to staying on working farms in the U.K. that are also B&B's.  This was how we came upon my favourite place we stayed on our trip, Beera Farm. 

Robert is the farmer and his wife Hilary is not only a trained cook, but she manages to run the B&B, help out around the farm and raise three sweet boys.

We drove through Dartmoor Forest and the Moors and stopped to watch the wild horses.

And pondered driving back to here to eat dinner at the Dartmoor Inn (white building to the left on the upslope of the hill).

We arrived down a single track road into the Tamar valley and pulled up at a beautiful house. After the introductions were made and the luggage was hauled in I asked about the animals. 
Hilary summoned her middle boy with the call of "another one to meet the puppy please."

I'd like you to meet Digger. 

He's in training.  Well, really pre-training  He's 3 months old and full, FULL of spitfire.

He'll likely be learning some of his chops from Lassie.  I have never before seen a dog adore and worship her master as much as Lassie adores Robert.  She literally would wrap herself around his leg and lean into him as much as possible all while looking up at him adoringly. 

I spent quite awhile talking with Robert about the farm, the animals he raises, what it's like to be a farmer in England, the changes wrought from the hoof and mouth incident 8 years ago, how being a tenant farmer works and a million other things.  Robert is quiet and reserved, but very passionate about what he does.

Robert took over the farm from his father after sitting an advanced farm management course.  I asked him whether he thought the boys would become farmers and he told me about tenant farming and how the rules have changed three times since his father's time.  The original laws granted tenancy to 3 generations.  During his father's tenure on the farm they changed the law to only allow his tenancy until he was aged 62.  A few years later, the rules changed again, there was a tax benefit to the landlord if he changed the tenancy rules allowing Robert's father to remain until he was aged 62 and then Robert was allowed to take over the farm and remain until he is also 62, this means either he has to buy his own farm, or negotiate with the current landlord, to allow his boys to run the farm, if that is indeed what they wish to do. He said that though it was hard work, there were days when he realised how idyllic a life they have.  The farm rolls over the hills and down to the river on one side and up the hill to the border of another estate on the other side, with acres on the other side of the road.  They live off of a single track road so the boys can roam and run around and ride their bikes wherever they please without worry.

Robert outside the orphan room, the trough is one half of a grist mill wheel.

The landlord owns a large chunk of the valley and the farm is part of a 3000 acre holding originally held by the Duke of Bedford.  Robert and his family are responsible for maintaining the interior of the house, all the stone walls and fencing and of course working the farm to the landlords satisfaction.  But I realised in talking to him that the farming life is nary as simple as we sometimes think it to be.

Every year he heads up to Yorkshire to buy his ewes.  This year, about 850. Each ewe has a yield of approx 1.8 lambs.  Don't ask how we get 1.8.  Some will perish from disease.  Some ewe's milk will dry up and either Robert and his family hand rear them, at a cost higher than the worth of the lamb at market, or they let nature 'run its course' and due to new regulations after the Hoof and Mouth incident they must pay a man to come and remove deceased lambs rather than dispose of them in the 'traditional' methods (burning or a large cement lined pit) and the cost is based on 2 lambs so it pays to 'wait' until 2 don't make it before you call the man in.  Facts of life and death maam.

When I was wandering around one morning taking photos I heard a bleating in the long barn and later Robert took me in to the 'Orphan Room'.  Hilary had bought milk powder in town and they had a large bucket rigged up with nipples for the lambs to feed.  As I stood there taking pictures the lambs eventually wandered up and first tried to suckle my lens cap that was hanging down and then later they had at my fingers.  Those lambs have some mean teeth!!  Robert laughed and told me those were the second set of nipples already on the bucket, they had already chewed off the first set.  No wonder I saw some of the ewe's trying to escape from their lambs!  This year the ewe's yielded 1650 lambs. 

I asked Robert if they raised the lambs for wool at all, and he told me that they were exclusively raised for meat.  It costs 1 pound to shear a sheep and on the open market the wool is only worth 40 pence.  Hardly a money making effort.  But don't think that raising them for meat is easy either, there are a slew of variables that determine how much you get paid. You need to take your sheep to market when it weighs 41 kilos.  This weight will yield about 21 kilos of usable meat.  If the animal weighs more or yields more than 21 kilos you will still only be paid for 21 kilos.  It would seem that the containers that the buyers utilize will hold no more than 21 kilos, so everything on top of that is excess.  There are also other factors that determine how much you are paid per sheep.  There is the E.U.R.O.P method to determine whether the shape of the animal is 'ideal'.  'R' is the middle or basic and animals classed as 'E' or 'U' will yield you a few more pounds, animals classed as 'O' or 'P' less so.  There is also another set of classifications for the fat in relation to the meat.  As all cooks know, fat equals flavour and beef with a higher marbling or fat content is graded higher and therefore worth more, not so with lamb.  They have a set amount of fat that they will allow in order to receive premium pricing, more fat yields a lower price so often that is the meat that the farmer will take home and use for his family, or lucky farmhouse diners.

We also talked about new Zealand lamb and how it has dominated the British lamb market as much as it has in the States.  Robert told me that it made inroads initially as a payback for help during the war.  An agreement was reached that the U.K. would import a certain amount of meat every year.  In theory this would work out as a win/win situation since the lamb season in New Zealand runs at the opposite time of year from the lamb season in the U.K., however last year the market seemed to be flooded with New Zealand imports during the spring which is traditionally when the British lamb comes to market.  Robert blames the large supermarket chains for bringing in the imports and keeping the price of British lamb artificially low.  I had told him about Stillman farms and out meat CSA and how it works and we talked about the movement in both countries for eating things seasonally and locally.  He said Waitrose had approached him about selling his lamb exclusively to them for a higher rice than he could get on the open market.  This would allow them to label the meat as local.  Robert sells his lambs using a co-op and the problem is Waitrose will not allow anyone to sell the lamb to them via a co-op, they want it sold directly to them.  Robert said what needs to happen is farms in the Devon area need to band together and form a large group of farmers who raise and sell the product as Devon raised local lamb.  He says a few farmers are interested, but not enough right now to make a statement.  Perhaps when some of these farms move over to be run by a newer generation this might be possible.

On the other side of the farmyard are Robert's newest venture.  He has purchased a few Charolais cows, yes, the same Charolais from Charolle, Burgundy, I wish we were going to be around to try these. When i mentioned that we never see these in the States he told me that we do raise them here.  I'm going to hunt around to see if I can get my hands on some of the meat to see if it is as good as I have heard.

These ladies are in the upper pen and there are a few more out in one of the other fields.  Raising cattle is a new venture for Robert and one that I hope will be successful.

I really loved staying here.  Both Hilary and Robert are fabulous hosts, never once did I feel like we were invading someone's home.  Our room was large and beautifully furnished, Hilary went out of her way to book me into the local pub for dinner and offered advice on things to see locally and places to eat, and poor Robert spent loads of time answering all of my questions all without stifling a yawn or laughing at the crazy New England Yankee who thinks sheep are cute.  If you ever find yourself in this little corner of Devon be sure to book yourself a room here, I know I will if we ever get back and this time I'm going to have Hilary cook for me.

Robert and Hilary Tucker
Beera Farm
Milton Abbot
Tavistock, Devon PL19 8PL
tel: 01822 870216