Bread & Butter Pickles

I love to cook. Experimenting with food can sometimes backfire, but I otherwise love to try new flavor combinations and recipies.

That's part of the reason why I love my garden so much. It's a heafty workload, but well worth the sweat and bug bites. I love the feel of the dirt in my hands, the sense of accomplishment after you pick a vegetable off the plant you've babies for months. And there's nothing better than crunchy, fresh vegetables.

We always find ourselves with more than an abundance of fresh vegetables. I'll give them away to anyone willing to take them.

But...cucumbers are another story. A few years ago my mom and I decided to dig her old recipe out of her cookbook. it was hand-written on yellow legal pad, tucked neatly into an old cookbook about southern pickles. We decided to see if we'd rather try something new.

Definitely not. Most of the recipes called for us to "remove the scum" off of the top portion of cucumbers sitting in salty water, sometimes after weeks. Yuck. Here is my mom's easy, and awesome, recipe:

Ingredients:

4 qts medium cukes, thinly sliced (i use the long, thin cucumbers)

6 medium onions, sliced

2 small yellow squash, thinly sliced (this is my addition to the original recipe)

2 green peppers, chopped

3 garlic cloves

1/3 cup pickling (or sea, or kosher) salt

crushed ice

5 cups sugar

3 cups apple cider 5% vinegar (or white vinegar with a little extra sugar)

2 tbs whole mustard seeds

1.5 tsp ground turmeric

1.5 tsp whole celery seeds

Combine cukes, onions, peppers, garlic and salt in large bowl. Cover with ice, mix, and let stand 3 hours. Drain.

Combine remaining ingredients, pour over cucumbers, and heat just until boiling.

Spoon cucumbers into mason jars, fill to .5 inches from top and process 10 minutes in warm water bath. Or, if you're going to eat them within a reasonable time, just put them into the jars, wait for the pop, and put them in the fridge.

Mmmm...

Tears of Joy

My husband may be a redneck, but he's a sensitive redneck. It's one of the reasons I love him. He cried over a good birthday card, a sad movie, and especially over the beauty in our son.
But tonight, Jasen surprised me. he cried at dinner not because Juni said "I love you Daddy" or I gave him a heartfelt card. He cried because Juni loved his babyback ribs.
That's right. My husband teared up because our son was gnawing on a pork rib like a tiger cub after its first kill.

Donkeys do NOT Enjoy Pedicures

Donkeys are wonderful, gentle animals. I love Bud and JD very much...if they could be cats, I honestly believe they would take the offer.
With that said, donkeys are not called jackasses for nothing. They are indeed the epitome of the jackass. They're stubborn, and smart. They're strong, and tireless. Basically, they're a giant toddler.
Donkeys need diligent hoof care just like horses. Our donkeys have not had this hoof care, and definitely needed pedicures. If their hooves are not ferried every so often, they will turn into what looks like elf feet, and it can become painful.
It took me almost two years to find a farrier to work on donkeys. Most larger businesses refuse to work on donkeys because, unlike a horse, they kick to intentionally injure the farrier. They're faster, they tend to bite more, and they're smarter. Not a safe combination.
I found a young guy, just starting out, who hadn't been hurt enough to refuse Bud and JD.
The first time he worked on the donkeys it took almost four hours, with Jasen holding them. At one point the farrier had a rope wrapped around both him and the donkey, and was holding onto his back leg for dear life. This guy wrestled with that donkey for 45 minutes before he took the first snip at his hooves.
It was terrifying, and amazing at the same time. He never shouted, never hit, and never gave up.
Today was a different story. We sedated the older, ungelded donkey. He doesn't like anyone near the family jewels, and I can't blame him. But that makes it incredibly dangerous to work on his hind legs.
Apparently, donkeys have a unique gift ... they can ignore sedation and fight back. We dosed him again, and tied him to a cemented pole. He rared up, struck his hind legs toward the farrier, and clawed his front hooves up and over the fence. He snorted, even growled. Sweat began dripping off his body, down the farriers nose, and beaded my upper lip.
It was a good 90 degrees today, and painfully humid. The farrier hoisted bud's front left hoof up under his body. That didn't work. He led him in circles and retied him to the post. That's didn't work. He had me hold him. Nope. Nothing. So we gave up.
With the smaller, younger gelding, we opted out of the sedation, because when he was castrated he had an adverse reaction. Last time JD fought for a while, but eventually submitted. This time he knew better and refused.
I'd never had to twitch an animal before. Until today. The apparatus was too large, since it's made for horses. So I had to use my hands. Try to picture this:
Grabbing a donkey's upper lip with my right hand, and twisting. Then grabbing the lower lip with my left hand, and twisting. Then, when they rare back, I don't let go. It was horrible. he was completely pissed, and just didn't give in. I let go instead of hurting him.
My options are basically to let them be (and possibly have pain in their hooves), sell or give them away to be someone elses problem (although they are very sweet, this whole farrier thing is a pain) or to have a vet come out and sedate them to the ground, which is several hundred dollars per animal. Ouch. I haven't decided what to do yet, since all of those options just plain suck to me.
Right now the farrier is licking his pride wounds, and I'm looking at the rope burn on my left hand and wondering just how sore my body will feel tomorrow.
The second we let the donkey's back into the field tonight they ran to the opposite fence, pouted for 30 seconds, and then ran back to me like nothing had happened. That's my definition of Jackass.

Bacon of the Month Club

There is only one person I know of that loves food more than my husband, and that's my dad. The man would add bacon and ham hocks to pancakes if it was socially and palatable acceptable.

I come from a long line of avid eaters. It's a gift, really. Given to me by my dad's dad, my Grandaddy. He loved all types of food, and I know he's be extra proud of me today, for I have found the ultimate father's day gift for Jasen and my dad...

The Bacon of the Month Club.

That's right...bacon, to their door, every month for a full year. And this is the good, thick, artisan stuff. Made at sustainable and eco-friendly farms, from crazy breeds of pig I've never heard of, with methods I've never heard of and flavors that sound like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.

Check it out for yourself...it sounds delectable...

http://www.gratefullpalate.com/

The Whole World is his Toilet

Jasen isn't a bathroom kind of guy. He believes in the great outdoors. He believes in feeling the elements while he does his business. He believes the whole world is his toilet.


My sister, her husband (whom at the time was her boyfriend), my dad, Jasen and I met for dinner one night at a local restaurant/bar. We'd just began dating again, and knew it was leading to marriage. I desperately wanted my Dad to like Jasen. This night definitely helped.


Talk of poo, gas and other tummy problems is always commonplace in my family. We call it the "Thrasher Belly." It's disgusting, I know, but it's my family. My dad has an especially severe case of Thrasher Belly, second only to his father. I finish a very close third, but that's beside the point.


This particular night Jasen and my Dad stuffed themselves into oblivion at dinner. And then it happened...Jasen got a case of Thrasher Belly. But apparently, he didn't feel comfortable curing said Thrasher Belly in the public bathroom.


Instead, my redneck husband felt much more comfortable in the bushes. The bushes outside. Beside the restaurant. And in an elderly woman's back yard. Nice fertilizer, I guess.


I was mortified. It was then that I found his secret stash of toilet paper in his truck, kept conveniently hidden for just such emergencies. Even now, he frequently squats beside a tractor, behind a truck door or somewhere in the woods...all while on a job site.


Lucky for me, my Dad finally felt comfortable around Jasen from this moment on. He'd joined the Thrasher Belly club, and took it to a new, if more disgusting, level. Our dinner discussions temporarily took a more subdued tone while my Dad dated his wife, but since they've been married the poo talk is back up and running.