Fleur-de-Lessons

There’s something going on in our neck of the woods. My guess is that the local foods movement has reaped a fascination with cooking for the 20-something generation.

First came a request from my nephew Andre: Next time you come to State College, can you teach me how to make jam?

It was one of those 90+-degree weekends and no AC in the kitchen, but we persevered for the sake of the preserves! Andre mashed and stirred and ladled and canned his way to a half dozen or more beautiful jars of blueberry jam on that muggy Saturday night. I’m sure more than a few beads of our perspiration flavored the batch.

And now, it’s elderberry season. We have a bumper crop and our wooden ladder stands ready, leaning on the hammock tree, for me to climb to the upper berry clusters that flip and droop when heavy with black, ripe fruit. Plenty for the birds, our customers, and us. We’ve gotten calls from as far away as Lancaster from people in search of the berries because so many wild elderberry bushes are being hacked down or sprayed with pesticides to eliminate the “weeds”.  One person’s weed is another’s treasure. A few days ago I was filling baskets of elderberries to the sounds and smells of a merry weed-whacker ridding his stream bank of anything taller than 2 inches.

Next on the cooking lesson hotline was a call from my son, Richard. He is living in State College with my mother and he was making dinner. He wanted to double-check the directions and yield for couscous.

I patiently waited until the next day to ask if the meal was successful.

“Nonna kept asking, ‘What do you call this rice?’” Richard told me. “But she ate it.”

Nonna didn’t need to know that couscous isn’t rice, but granules made by rolling and shaping moistened semolina wheat (or, depending on the country, barley, pearl millet or corn). I can’t type Arabic, but the Arabic name for this dish, traditionally served under a meat or vegetable stew, is pronounced “kuskus”, meaning well rolled or well formed, which is how we get the name “couscous”.

So, my son, who honed his tact and coping skills as a Rotary Exchange Student in Brasil, is polishing those traits as he lives with his 81-year-old grandmother. “It’s not rice, Nonna. It’s called ‘couscous’.  It is so good they named it twice – cous cous.”

Three is a charm, and my third cooking lesson request came from Destiny, the young woman who wrote about Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market for a Kutztown University writing project.

She emailed to see if I would share my recipe for pesto or show her how to make it. With 20 years or so of pesto-making under my apron, I don’t follow an actual recipe … so I had to make it first to measure how much basil fills the salad spinner, find the actual measurement of a good handful of walnuts, and figure out how much olive oil makes the sauce moist but not runny. Then, I made a date with Destiny.

I asked Destiny if she had a food processor.  “No.”  So, my first advice for the bride-to-be was to list a Cuisinart on her bridal registry. Then, we went through the following steps.

1. Place 4 or more cloves of fresh garlic and a cup of walnuts in the Cuisinart fitted with a metal blade and pulse a few times.

2. Add four cups of washed and spun-dried, fresh basil leaves. Pulse until leaves are chopped. Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste.

3. Process the mixture while slowly pouring in 2/3-cup olive oil. Scrape bowl, pulse again, and then fill about four 1-cup containers with the pesto and freeze.

4. To prepare, thaw pesto. Mix with one pound of cooked pasta. Toss in one cup of freshly grated Parmesan or Romano cheese, and a sprinkling of pine nuts, if you’d like. Serve hot and yummy.

Destiny, who is planning a June 2011 wedding, left with a batch of fresh pesto, the recipe, and a Written on Slate engagement memento:

Love, be true to her.

Life, be dear to her.

Health, stay close to her.

Joy, draw near to her.

Fortune, find what you can do for her,

Search your treasure-house through for her,

Follow her footsteps the wide world over,

And keep her husband always her lover!

 -- Old English Toast to a Bride

This week at Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market: Taxi, Violet Jasper, Egg Yolk, and Tim’s Black Ruffle tomatoes, chartreuse Armenian cucumbers with long, wrinkly ribs, tromboncino squash, elderberries, blackberries, kale, chard, German White garlic, Picasso shallots, purple and red sweet peppers, red, white, and blue potatoes, eggs, honey, and our Veggie Sampler boxes (a selection of cucumbers, squash, and peppers).

… And, a Saturday Barn Sale: The Queen of Yard Sales snapped me and our outbuildings into shape last weekend and we’ve organized boxes and bins of assorted paraphernalia for your recycling pleasure. A bounty of baskets, boxes of Victoria magazines, tons of children’s books, sports gear for youngsters (cross-country skiis, baseballs and bats, rollerblades, skateboards, boogie boards, bicycles, etc.), games, gobbledygook, craft and canning supplies, and even an old-fashion iron bed.  One woman’s clutter and memories can be your treasure!  Laurie Lynch

Fleur-de-LlamaBeans

 

noun

1.  the pelleted manure of a domesticated pack animal of the camel family found in the Andes and at Fleur-de-Lys Farm. 

2.  the perfect way to heat up your compost pile and get all of that organic matter cooking!

3.  free and bagged, while they last. 

4.  the perfect excuse to come see the crocuses, winter aconites, snowdrops, Lenten roses, and yes, our beautiful llama lladies, Liberty and Fleurry.

Llaurie Llynch

Fleur-de-Detour

Things have been noisy on the back four acres this week. PennDOT is working on the steel-grate bridge that crosses Mill Creek on Eagle Point Road. What this means for those who drive to Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market by way of New Smithville is a detour. Instead of turning onto Eagle Point Road, follow the detour signs which will take you out Long Lane to Route 222. Turn right at the light, and then take the first right onto Hottenstein Road and keep driving until you see 440 Hottenstein Road. For those of you coming from Kutztown on Eagle Point Road, clear road to Fleur-de-Lys Farm.

The hammering, grinding, scraping, and spraying in the tarp tunnel encasing the bridge are enough to jiggle the teeth out of a woodchuck, so just think what the sound is doing to the hens on the hill. They may lay scrambled eggs. And imagine working inside that plastic tunnel in this heat!

Along with eggs this week, we have elderberries, blackberries, cucumbers, summer squash, peppers, tomatoes, potatoes, garlic, shallots, kale, chard, basil, dill, assorted herbs and flowers, and peace and quiet after 5 p.m., when the road crew goes home. Laurie Lynch

Written on Slate: Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she laughs with the harvest.  Douglas Jerrold

Fleur-de-Destiny

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Hello from Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market, 440 Hottenstein Road, Kutztown, PA 19530.

This week I'm taking a vacation from the typical Fleur-de-Lys newsletter thanks to Kutztown University student Destiny Van Kooten. She interviewed me a couple of weeks ago and wrote the piece on the following link: 

http://writingsummer.wordpress.com/2010/07/15/a-mother-hen-tends-to-fleur-de-lys/

Be sure to make a comment and give her some feedback at the end of the blog.

At Fleur-de-Lys this week: eggs, red, white, and blue potatoes, cucumber and summer squash samplers, purple Islander peppers,  kale, blackberries, black currants, fresh garlic and shallots, bunches of basil (it's pesto-making time) and other savory herbs. We're also picking tomatoes ... Taxi and Egg Yolk kicking off our season ... I don't have to tell you what color they are ... but I will: Screaming Yellow! Take care. Laurie Lynch

Fleur-de-Followup

Good Rainy Morning,

It's too wet to go into the field, so I'm reviewing email responses to the meaning of the saying: "A hen doesn't cackle before she lays the egg."

Mara, Valerie, Karen and Wendy interpret it to mean: "Don't boast until you've accomplished your objective."  Along that same line, Joanne said, "Don't brag until you do the deed" and Debra wrote, "Don't brag about something until you know it's a sure thing."

Rich looked at the quote from a slightly different perspective, "Don't celebrate before the work is done", as did Sandy: "One shouldn't brag about their impending wealth if one hopes to keep it." And, Christine takes it to mean, "The lull before the storm."

Sometimes we look too deeply into simple things. What bothers me in the saying is the word "cackle". To me, it is more of a derogatory sound, i.e.  The witch cackled, "My pretty one." Often, I'll hear the hens on the hill cackling when a red-tail hawk swoops overhead. They make a ruckus and head for shelter. But when it comes to laying eggs, I think hens make more of a contented "clucking" sound.

I'll end with thoughts from Ruth: "The hen doesn't celebrate (or brag) until she's done the job. We know as well not to count our chickens until they've hatched. It's interesting how many of these sayings go back to our farming past." Ah, the words and world of farming, such a fascinating place. Laurie Lynch

Fleur-de-GloriousRain

Early Saturday morning two-thirds of the very unofficial Kutztown Walking Club faced the dawn through a veil of drizzle, the first precipitation we had felt in weeks. Soon, the drizzle turned into pelting monster raindrops, and at one point, as we turned a corner, we even felt a chill – something sincerely welcome after days of 90+-degree temperatures.

When we got to the end of our soggy jaunt, Laurel said she couldn’t remember having such a good time on a walk, It reminded her of being a kid, playing in the rain with absolute abandon. It reminded me of “Reilly Loop”, a 5.2-mile course Paul and I used to run in State College. Reilly Loop was named after Bill Reilly, a Penn State distance runner who competed in the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. One day the final leg of our run ended in a deliciously soft rain, washing away our cares and our sweat, transporting us into a magical, otherworld experience. The memory of that run and rain became such a strong one that it resurfaced years later. In 1992 our son was born on my father Richard’s 70^th birthday. Paul and I named the babe Richard Reilly Lynch.

Treasure each day and each memory, Laurie Lynch

Plants Loved It: If humans, who can walk in and out of air conditioning and drink cool water at will, appreciated Saturday’s rain, imagine how the plants felt! We recorded 2.5 inches in our water gauge and I swear several droopy-looking pepper plants actually came back to life.

Special Thanks: To Lenore for helping a farmwoman duel with weeds and worries on Sunday.

At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market This Week: Poona Kheera and Pickles cucumbers, Verte et Blanc scallop (French heirloom from the 1800s), Zephyr, and Italiano Largo summer squash, German White garlic, rainbow chard, new potatoes, kale, eggs, honey, dill, basil, parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. (Apologies to S&G.)

In the News Last Week: Our friendly Cooperative Extension Director shared a July 8 Wall Street Journal article entitled “Fowl Fans See Golden Eggs in Catering to Pet-Chicken Market”. It seems that people have become so enamored with pet chickens that all sorts of businesses are cropping up – chicken diapers (so your chicken can live in the house), chicken saddles (to protect hens from frisky roosters), and even chicken costumes (stars and stripes for July 4 and Prince Charming and Cinderella for Halloween). Why, there is even a Chicken Whisperer who hosts a daily hour-long Internet radio show on raising backyard chickens. But the best quote came from the founder of the site BackYardChickens.com, Rob Ludlow, who said chickens “are the only backyard pet that can make you breakfast.” I have to remember that one.

Written on Slate: This space is usually reserved for favorite quotes that I’ve painted on slates and sell at the shop. This week’s is a little different. I found an old saying, but I just can’t figure out what it means. Maybe it is the residual heat on my brain or a mid-50s meltdown. I need some help. Here is the saying: “A hen doesn’t cackle before she lays the egg.” If you can see the wisdom better than I, please send it along.

Fleur-de-WetTShirts

Let me be upfront. There is no contest at Fleur-de-Lys Farm, wet T-shirt or otherwise. Gravity is not a pretty sight.

But we do have plenty of wet T-shirts. First, there is the early morning sloshing of the watering can as we dip into and out of the rain barrels to water seedling beds. Then, there is the leaking and squirting of too many hose connections and spray nozzles as we water transplants and fill animal troughs. Adjusting the irrigation water tower controls in our main growing field calls for another drenching. Last, there is the good old natural, hard-working, sweat version of wet T-shirts. During these intoxicating days of 90- to 100-degree heat it is not unusual to peel off a second change of clothing by 6:45 a.m.

Regardless of the sweltering temperatures, it is garlic-pulling time. The dry weather, while adding extra watering hours to each day, is perfect for harvesting garlic bulbs. We haul them to the barn, where they’re bunched, tied up with twine, hung from ladders, and cured for a month or so. We will also have a stash of fresh garlic in the shop for your immediate garlic gratification. Laurie Lynch

Garlic Hall of Fame: A photograph of our field-grown garlic is on Page 39 of the August/September 2010 issue of Organic Gardening magazine.

Today in History: 13 years ago today we bought our farm at 440 Hottenstein Road, Kutztown, PA,  Richard, Marina, Paul, Dr. Seuss (the Bouvier), and I camped out on the floor of the family room our first night. The U-Haul got stuck in our driveway and we had to call a tow truck.

Celebrating Summer in Sweden: Marina and her friend ZIggy fell in love with Stockholm on a recent visit and frequented an Italian restaurant. Instead of bouquets of flowers on each table, the restaurant had clay pots containing basil and rosemary plants, so diners could pinch off fresh herbs for their meals.

One Way to Cool Down: While in Stockholm, they also went to an Ice Bar, built of blocks of ice and flowing with cool blue lights and outer space-type music. Drinks were served cups of ice and all guests were attired in fur-lined parkas to take the chill off.

At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market this week: German White garlic, red, white, and blue potatoes, basil, dill, and parsley, cucumbers, zucchini, black currants, kale, honey, eggs, and sunflowers.

Written on Slate: There is nothing finer in life than true love and a home-grown tomato. – Gary Ibsen