Friday 27 May 2016

A serving of with or just go without

Deciding what to cook for dinner has been a problem ever since we came out of the cave and discovered there was choice.  Many choices in fact.  Not just the supermarket version of choice between premium expensive brand and theirs.  The biggest question is what will Max have for dinner.  To describe him as a fussy cat really doesn't give it justice.  He's gone off most of the standard cat food varieties and he won't even look at anything raw.  Fresh chicken slices was met with a look of disgust and the offer of a morsel of freshly caught flathead provided a response that could only be interpreted as offense.  I can't think what goes through his mind.  That we would somehow insult him by offering something that didn't even come out of a tin or a pouch.  Long ago I discovered that the cat foot labelling was somewhat vague.  The majority of brands describe their offering as with Lamb, Beef, Salmon etc.  But they don't actually tell us what 'with' is.  So in our house Max has a can or pouch of With and we hope for the best.  We've tried with all the varieties but lately he's bored with them all.  Frankly we've run out of tinned species.  All that's left are endangered and rare breeds.  And I can't see Whiskas running with a range of With bottle nose dolphin in seafood sauce anytime soon.

Wednesday 25 May 2016

Who needs a truffle pig when you've got an egg dog.


It's a bold step to respond to anything that would indicate I knew about farming but I will say this.  When there's a report in the newspaper that eggs are in short supply in the local supermarket, I know why.  There was the reasons officially given which talked about supply chain problems, new industry regulations about how many birds you can shove in a phone box or something to that effect, but I know it's gotten cold.  And when it's cold my chooks lay less eggs.  They don't know anything about super foods, consumer demand, and free range is actually very free indeed.  Trends don't matter but winter chills do.  They're in bed before I get home sometimes and I apologize for a late offering of the dinner service.  They lay a couple a day at this time of year with one in the nesting box and the other, well anywhere really.  Lately it's in the old shed.  The one that is being held up by the spider population and when it's windy it creaks.  Or that's the sound of all the spiders yelling 'hold on boys, she's blowing a gale'.  I try not to go in there.  My ever faithful cocker spaniel actually goes in there and collects the eggs for me now.  He's a soft mouth breed trained to retrieve pheasants.  Well we're a bit short on those so he's happy to have a job to fetch eggs.  He places them ever so gently at my feet and gets a big reward.  It took a few goes to get it right and a few casualties on the back step but we got there.  Better than fetching a newspaper, what do they know about eggs.

Wednesday 18 May 2016

Betty wasn't keen on the final team building activity

When you're a chicken being a good team member is important.  No matter who your parents were, if in fact you even know, you will be assigned your reporting line rooster each day.  Should you fall out of line with your direct reporting line rooster there will be a fuss made with loud flapping of wings and much chasing about.  Your reporting line rooster will determine the best route for the day.  He will determine best use of sunlight, preferred patch for scrounging (not my bloody roses again) and appropriate scrub area for resting.  But don't expect much of that from what I've seen.  You will eat when told (stay out of my goddam lettuces) and take time off for laying when required, but be quick about it. Team building activities will include running when told, getting yelled at for falling behind and other unspeakable acts that roosters and chickens do.  So sign up and remember, there's no I in TEAM ...or FLOCK.

Monday 16 May 2016

Some days you should just stay in bed

Are we destined to really only do what we want to?  In a veiled attempt to create some variety into my cooking regime, I decided to increase the limited range of soups on offer.  I'm not a soup fan.  I have always associated it with illness or failing dentures.  Tomato soup is acceptable and onion soup only with the boldest of stocks, and a melted cheesy baquette boat serving as a delicious dive wreck at the bottom of the bowl.  The other reason I'm considering upping the soup ante is that I have succumbed to the shared household pre-winter lurgy.  So I started with a pumpkin. A fine specimen to be had from a recent trip to the Launceston Farmers Market.  A joyful looking colour of a vegetable.  So I made pumpkin soup and it was awful.  How can you get something so simple so wrong?  I combined a few recipes and roasted the pumpkin with took dispute with the recipe variations.  Then I added more sour cream and the whole thing became bad soup trying to be a desert - too much cream.  Then it hit me. I just don't like pumpkin soup.  Never have.  Unless it's disguised with enough spice to register itself either Moroccan or Thai the old faithful is never my chosen option.  Perhaps we are just destined to turn out joy in our cooking only when we truly want it.  Or maybe I should just go back to bed as Max suggested and ride out my failing energy levels.  There will be no soup today.

Friday 13 May 2016

No sorry, we gave at the office

We have a few residents on our farm that fit the description of dumped.  Our little farm cat Minnie was found in the bushes one Saturday morning just on a year ago.  She called out to me as I stood there wondering where the meow was coming from and a little face poked out.  Not knowing if she was feral and likely to lash out I stayed a bit weary of her but she kept running after me and rubbing up against my legs.  She was dumped alright.  I suspected the empty cardboard box scraping along the road down the hill may have been her launching pad.  She certainly found the right property when she found us.  Knowing Minnie now I suspect she instructed her driver until she got to our house and said 'yep, that's the one, here is fine, thanks'.  She now occupies her own store room complete with bed containing out of service woollen jumpers and Max's hand-me down Laura Ashley blankets.  Laura Ashley would be horrified if she saw what Max handed down.  Minnie is now our chief mouse catcher and inspector of all newly dug holes.  And a great gate keeper of the veggie patch.

Wednesday 11 May 2016

Not good weather for ducks while Lewis takes shelter...under a lemon

We're very grateful for the rain.  Although winter hasn't arrived yet, the Autumn winds are hammering under the tin roof.  It seems to come from every direction.  Animals know when the weather is about to turn.  Last weekend some dark stormy looking clouds were moving in quietly and before anyone noticed Lewis was up on the gate calling in the clan.  Whilst we were still pottering in the veggie patch the hens had relocated to the chalet and the sheep had headed for their custom built timber shack.  I enjoy the drama of winter weather and think nothing of putting a hand knitted article on my head rendering me somewhere in appearance between warming tea pot and gnome.  We get inside for some reprieve while the leaves swirl around behind us and stand to attention in front of a glowing fire.  The back door heavy from the recent rain only closes with a sludge and slam and the middle duck on the wall takes a 10 degree turn south. Unfortunately his mother took flight and smashed into tiny pieces all over the slow cooker.  So they're on their own now until I can find a surrogate.  I wonder if Lewis would be up to it?

Monday 9 May 2016

Who needs fire when fur will do

So we can forget about putting out the washing I guess.  But I can't complain because it's so great to see grey skies and rain.  Lots of rain last night.  A green tinge has already formed on the chocolate brown cracked fudge that is the back paddock.  The fire was, well fired up as they say.  I'm new to wood fires.  In my previous world heat came from a turned on switch or device on the wall and there were selections of how warm you wanted to be.  But then that was apartment living and everyone had the same unit and the same options.  This is wood and fire heating.  Which doesn't offer many options other than burning or smoking.  I don't actually know how to light a fire.  I know how to put wood into one but somehow just lighting wood doesn't work.  My last attempt at starting the fire resulted in enough smoke signals pouring out of the chimney spout it could have been the new internet. I'm sure there is a Tafe course I can do or something.  In the meantime it's not that cold and I've got a warm ragdoll (pictured) on my lap to keep me warm.  Shame about the washing though.