A View from the Porch

All Hail the Moccamaster!

2011-12-06T09:06:00.000-08:00

Our local source for coffee beans is gimme! coffee. We like our coffee freshly ground and we like our coffee strong, but starting with a good coffee bean was only the beginning in our quest for the perfect cup of coffee. Our preferred method is the French press, but making 3-4 pots of French press coffee for guests in the morning was becoming too complicated. Simplicity and consistency were absolute requirements for a new drip coffee maker, but we were not ready to go for the Bunn commercial monsters which would require the removal of a kitchen cabinet.

Our biggest problem was grind overflow and mess. We tried 4 different department-store coffee makers and 3 different bean grinders. We tried using polar water and another local brand of coffee (sorry, gimme! we had to!) We tried grinding the beans the night before. Nothing worked, and we were not willing to reduce the amount of coffee we used.

Looking for sympathic ears, I put another call into our customer service friends at gimme! and after a few weeks of research they came up with a solution--The Technivorm Moccamaster. Here's the Cook's Illustrated Test Kitchen clip.

It's beautifully designed and sits on the counter top. No timers. No settings. No bells and whistles. No grind overflow and no mess. It makes coffee--perfect coffee. That's all it does. And that's all we need.

What's new at The Hayward House

2011-12-01T09:44:00.000-08:00

1) just this week launched a new web site (many and better pics still to be added)

2) began renovations on the third guest room (opens this spring - fingers crossed)

3) lost 2 cats - R.I.P. Squatter and Joe*. Little Pip and Jake the Dog are still with us (although we think Jake losing his hearing)

4) massage therapy school is continuing to be a life changing event for Michele (more later)

5) now accept credit cards (thanks, iPhone!)

6) often ranked #1 B&B in Interlaken on Trip Advisor (alternating the #2 spot with our friends at the Black Walnut whom we frequently pelt with commercial eggs. Hey, Jack and Rich--remember all those referrals?!)

7) ranked in the top 10% of all b&bs in the Finger Lakes

8) managed to maintain work/life/school balance, good health, and cheerful dispositions but gave up trying to blog frequently.

9) got our riding lawn mower fixed - yippee!

*Gone before I could tell you that he could climb a tree, steal an egg from a nest, carry it in his mouth down the trunk, and devour it in the yard. Cook cat trick!

Daisy, Daisy

2011-09-09T10:22:00.000-07:00

The tenacity of wildflowers! This little daisy, a variety that grows in the dry fields and culverts along the road, took root in a crack of our old stone sidewalk while blue chicory peeks through the dry grass.

I appreciate Mother Nature's eye for garden design. This year she clumped feverfew, anise hyssop, and black-eyed Susans into a lovely summer bouquet border along the side walk, with the thyme and parsley providing ground cover.

Being such a dry summer, I'm surprised we had any flowers at all. My rule of (green) thumb: If it's got a flower on it, it stays right where it is. Any color is a bonus.

Derby Girl

2011-08-25T08:12:00.000-07:00

What pollutes the air and the ground, exceeds the safe decibel limit and wastes gasoline but is fun, exciting, and REALLY BIG here in the Finger Lakes? The Demolition Derby, that's what!

Drawing crowds of people and contestants from all around the area, the Trumansburg Fair's Demolition Derby is the qualifier for the NYState championships. As I walked through the fairgrounds, I notice few people playing games, or riding rides and the carnival people all looked bored and tired. The ticket takers at the Grandstand are working up a sweat, though, because The Derby is by far the biggest draw.

When we were little, my dad took my sister and I to the Allegheny County Fair for the Demolition Derby. I can't remember if it was every year or just once, but the memory of it is burned into my brain. Seeing the cars line up, and hearing revving of the engines and the "10 to go" count, I am a little girl again, cheering, clapping, laughing, and making a fool of myself.

This year's Derby is special: I know some of the drivers. They are our neighbors from up the street, a dad and his sons. And one of them, Shawn, was driving our '93 Mercury Sable Wagon. "Be sure to tell us if you drive it in the derby next year" we said when we watched him drive it away, the transmission slipping and the back end sinking low over the wheel. All winter, the car sat in the field with others awaiting its final fate until last week, when it appeared in front of his garage. Passing it every day I watched it become less of itself, stripped of glass, eviscerated, wire entrails leading from headlight sockets, hatch and seats removed and doors chained shut.

A few days ago, Shawn flagged me down and pointed into the garage where it sat, reborn in a glory of blue and white zebra stripes and ready for the Derby. I got the giggles.

Back at the fair, and sitting in the third row, I watched as the old wagon fared well in competition and Shawn took a second place trophy. The car was driven off the track (not towed as most others were) and maybe still has some life left in it.

As I cheered for Shawn, conflicting thoughts were jostling around in my head: Who knew that car was such a tank?...OMG--this sport is so wrong on so many levels....We should never have sold that car....oh, yeah--I'm coming back next year!

Team Pride

2011-08-19T06:55:00.000-07:00

Kevin took this picture of our neighbor's draft horses. A clear, blue Finger Lakes sky; a proud team at the end of their work day. Perfection.

Feeding Frenzy

2011-08-04T06:39:00.000-07:00

Since early July we have a feeding frenzy in our yard. Most of the resident birds--chipping and house sparrows, baltimore orioles, barn swallows, blue birds, mockingbirds, house finches, starlings, robins, grackles and red-winged blackbirds-- are protecting and feeding their young. I could spend hours watching them.

The fledglings, who can fly only short distances, can't yet feed themselves even though they are out of the nest. Each species has a different method. Some are ground feeders, while some feed on the wires or in the trees. But all of the fledglings, who chirp for their parents and flutter their wings, have one thing in common: They are hungry! And the feeding is a non-stop activity for the parents.

They are an awkward bunch, with tufts of down on their heads and yellow, lipstick-like lined mouths, as they vie for their parents' attention. Watching the young barn swallows at eye-level from the upstairs hall window, feeding happens in a flash of wing and a blink of an eye, their parents arriving swiftly like Jedi fighters from the fields beyond.

Our two curious kittens - Joe (aka Secret Agent Man) and Pip are working non-stop climbing trees, hiding in bushes, and crouching under the cars, preying on the weakest and slowest. Unfortunately, they are often successful even as they duck and flinch in defense of the barn swallows who dive-bomb them while they walk in the open.

Last year while sweeping the front porch, I accidentally bumped a robin's nest. Startled, a small robin flapped and flapped in a weak effort to fly only to fall to the porch with a thump. He hopped into the shrubs. I managed to catch him and place him high in a denser shrub, only to watch him tumble to the ground several times. By this time I've got our big cat's attention. Shoot. I tucked him tightly between some branches and went back to my work. It happened again (where is my brain?). Sweep. ACK! Flap. Thump. Hop. This one I couldn't find and I felt terrible. About an hour later I see the cat chasing the small fledgling in the yard. Broom in hand, I swatted at the cat while trying to grab the bird, its parents squawking and diving at me all the while. It was sad and comical at the same time, and I never did know what finally happened to the two small birds.

The female returned this year and built a nest in the exact same spot again and had two broods. Can you believe I almost did the same thing with the broom again? Twice?

Never a dull moment here.

The Healthy Habitat

2011-06-10T10:40:00.000-07:00

This spring we added 5 new "yard birds" to our list: Gray Catbird, Pileated Woodpecker, Yellow Warbler, Eastern Towhee, and the Bobolink. To qualify as a yard bird, the bird must be seen or heard by you from your yard. Some people extend that definition to include "whatever you can see with a scope from your roof" as a yard bird too! No matter--the fun is seeing the birds and keeping the list. Our list has about 55 birds. While none of these new birds are uncommon for the general area (except the Bobolink which is terribly exciting since its habitat is dwindling) their appearance in our yard gets me wondering. What is different this year? Is it the weather? Did our yard habitat change enough to be inviting to that species? Am I paying more attention and/or getting better at identification? Have they been here all along and I'm just at the right place at the right time? I suspect it is all of the above.

The Pileated Woodpecker sighting was a 5 second stint. From my seat in the kitchen I heard its earnest squawk, which increased in volume as it ascended slightly in pitch. My brain said blue jay?... squawk.... Northern Flicker? ...squawk..... Pheasant?.... squawk!!.... WOODPECKER!!! run! ....SQUAWK!.....I caught a glimpse of it on the side of the pear tree YES!!! and then it was gone in a flash of black, red, and white. DARN! I saw him a few days later in a tree across the road, and my neighbor has seen him too. Maybe he'll be a regular - that would be really cool.

Another surprise was this guy in the picture - the polythemus moth. It arrived (hatched?) yesterday and hung out on the kitchen door until sometime overnight when I suspect he found a mate, did his thing and passed on to the netherworld. That's its sole purpose in this ethereal form. He was a beautiful specimen, about 5 inches across, with fern-like antennae, and translucent spots. I was disappointed to find him gone this morning, even though I knew I would jumped out of my skin if he landed on me.

With birds, toads, dragonflies, fireflies, moths, butterflies, bunnies, and bees, there is never a dull moment in our cottage garden (read: we let some weeds grow). We happily create a healthy habitat for all of us.

How Much Wood SHOULD a Woodchuck Chuck? orCan you say VEGETARIAN?

2011-04-18T11:07:00.000-07:00

A common and abundant marmot here in the Finger Lakes is the woodchuck, a.k.a. the groundhog. You see them burrowing under sheds and barns, poking around in the parks, and smashed beyond recognition on the highways. (How unfortunate when that happens on the first day out from hibernation!) They also like to live under big, old, front porches.

Our first year in the house, we gave permission to an Amish boy down the road to rid our property of the pests, and for a few weeks we would see him hanging around after chores. It was a rather surprising event when my in-laws were visiting. When my brother-in-law looked up from his dinner and said, "Uh, there's a guy in your front yard with a straw hat and he's carrying a gun?" and my response was "Oh, that's just Henry!" I realized how much our lives have been changed. I was willing to have someone do the dirty deed for me, and I wanted to feel okay about it. Us or them, right? I live in the country, and this is what we do. Top of the food chain, and all that?

Prolific breeders, no matter how heavily they are hunted, their numbers sustain. For the farmers who still plow with draft horses, the risk of broken legs or ankles is not acceptable, and I respect that. I've seen Elam become so frustrated that he filled one of the holes with manure. Not effective management, mind you, but satisfying nonetheless.

Our second summer in the house, Kevin started rebuilding the porch. The mama-chuck who lived under it delivered a litter of 6 babies and the barn-dwelling mama had 5. We were overrun. If you have never seen a baby woodchuck, know that baby woodchucks are cute. I mean, really cute in a kitten kind of way. Jake the dog managed to grab 2--and I felt awful about it--but the rest were free to roam the property, even running in very close to Kevin, who was under the porch with saws, hammers, and drills. Each day these babies would venture a few feet further out into the front yard. They feared nothing.

Lately, I've had a front and center view of the critter through my kitchen window while washing dishes. Sitting up on its hind legs, it will nimbly pull the young plants and shrubs to mouth level and munch. This year they seem to like the "chicks & hens," pulling them out by the root, holding the dirt ball and eating. They also love tulip bulbs. First they eat the green leaves, then they come back and dig up the bulb. They decimated a small patch of crocuses which were just starting to show some color. The nerve. What a nuisance. We've got to do something!

No more hired guns, though, just humane traps set by our local pest-management service. Seeing the little furry red-bellied beasts up close, feeding from the tenderest spring growth, their black noses touching in groundhog greeting, we honor their over-breeding, their insatiable but gastronomically upperclass appetites, and their spunk. Once again, I'm conflicted. So I'll save a woodchuck. But just one.

Wave, Everyone!

2011-04-09T04:42:00.000-07:00

wave |wāv| verb : move one's hand to and fro in greeting or as a signal

Anyone who has spent time on our porch notices the same thing about the people who pass by: Everyone waves. It's a simple gesture, warm and comforting, and an affirmation of presence that deeply touches me and those who tell me about it. It says "Hey, I see you there and I'm happy about it." Or, "Sorry I can't stop and talk, but hello nonetheless!" Or, "Hi, neighbor!"

Horseback riders, walkers, truck drivers, Amish, and children all have their own style of wave. From a small, almost unnoticeable tip of the hat to a great wide arm flailing motion. From a buggy comes a tilt forward and a couple of fingers up, with maybe a slight side to side action, or a vigorous, shaky full hand. From behind the wheel of a large farm combine, it may be just a couple fingers raised off the steering wheel, or a salute to the brim of a hat, or a lift of the arm from the elbow. Sometimes it's a raised arm and a shake!

What confounds me is that a wave always prompts me to stop what I am doing and wave back, without even thinking about it. You may be a stranger, but you are now part of my day, and I yours. Isn't that a lovely thought? Wave, everyone!

Ice Blues

2011-03-22T12:46:00.000-07:00

One morning last month, just before sunrise, the temperature plunged to -2 degrees. That's not so unusual for this time of year, but this particular morning brought with it one of my favorite winter phenomena: rime ice (also known as hoarfrost, ice fog, and rime frost). Every inch of every branch, stem and tree trunk, shimmered and glistened with a soft coating of white jagged ice.

It was a spectacular, foggy, winter wonderland against crisp blue skies. On some surfaces it was thick as snow while on others it appeared to be growing in sharp spikes.

Winter birding was a challenge. However, a family of seven lovely, little bluebirds have been with us all winter, feeding on berries in the garden and singing from the trees. Brilliant blue against the white snow and the red berries of the winterberry bush, they flit away from the stingy starlings and manage to out-wit the sneaky cats. At night, I find them huddled in the eaves outside our bedroom window and checking on them has become my bedtime ritual.

Usually all I can see is a tail or two high up in the corner, but many nights one adult is sleeping separately from the group, alone on a ledge but tucked in against the weather. About two weeks ago, however, they stopped coming in to roost even though it is still windy and cold. Are these bluebirds winter birds who have since started their way north? Or are these the same bluebirds we have here in the summer? (will there be seven?) And if so, where ARE they right now? I miss their cheery songs and the promise of spring!

I'll take the B

2011-03-21T13:27:00.000-07:00

As my 12 followers have probably noticed (and those of you who read my blog but don't publicly follow) I've been silent since the New Year. No reason, really. Not bored with writing but I am bored with winter. Seems like it has been a hard one this year. Windy. Cold. Lots of ice. I'm not certain that the weather map data will confirm those facts. It's more of a feeling, I guess.

Life has picked up a few paces with me being in school. Weekend classes began at the end of January, and I feel like I've been playing catch-up with my time ever since. I don't feel overwhelmed, but my brain cells are otherwise entranced in Swedish massage, body mechanics, kinesiology, muscles and bones. I'm feeling exhausted and exhilarated, absent-minded yet organized, buried under chores but ready to open for business. How I can feel all of this all at the same time?

I'm amazed at how quickly I learn some things, yet how slowly I'm catching on to others. I'm learning how I learn. Visually? Kinesthetically? Auditorialy? A combination of all three? I'm reminded by my instructors to be patient. Confusion is good - it means that our brain is processing the new material, and it will arrive comfortably in the land of knowledge in due time. We had our first quiz in kinesiology over the weekend and I missed 3 out of 20. That's a B in the grade book and I'll take it.

PS: Here's a picture of Pip hiding under a hosta last fall. She's our little outcast. Squeemish, timid, and lovely.

Riding in the New Year

2011-01-05T18:08:00.000-08:00

Our traditional New Year's Eve celebration is watching a bunch of movies, creating and enjoying a fabulous multi-course meal, and drinking lots of wine. Just the two of us. Well, three if you include our warm and comfort-seeking dog named Jake. Temperatures were mild enough to start the evening on the porch stoop and drink a cocktail, the barn and shrubs ablaze in sunset. Most of the meal was sourced locally: a standing roast from High Point Farms, a creamy soup of leek and rutabagas from Country Side Produce, chocolate ice cream from Cayuga Lake Creamery, wine from J. R. Dill and bubbly from Lucas Vineyards. It was another perfect evening.

Early in December we made reservations for a New Year's Day trail ride at Painted Bar Stables in Burdette. Neither of us having ever been on a horse, we nervously made our way into the stables, all the while getting safety tips and riding instructions from Erika, the owner. I was to ride Dozer, a sharp looking chestnut gelding. Duchess, a solid paint palomino mare, was saddled for Kevin. We mounted, and with my stomach in my throat, I gingerly directed Dozer to the trail head and I stopped. I can't do it, I thought I said to myself, but Erika--ever present and alert--heard me, and made a suggestion. "Hum a tune, and you'll get over your fear. And don't forget to breathe. The horse will sense that you are nervous, then he'll get nervous. Oh, and don't micro-manage the horse. He knows how to walk through the mud and ice. Just gently suggest what you want him to do." I did, and he did, and all was well.

Creekside, my fear took over again, but with kind encouragement from Erika and the other riders, I kept calm, leaned back and let sure-footed Dozer manage the slope into the water. Slow and steady. That wasn't so bad. All in all, it was lovely ride on a mild winter day through corn fields and meadows, and I can't wait to go horseback riding again. Perhaps this will be a new tradition for us--riding into a Happy New Year.

The Lovely Snow Geese

2010-12-22T12:38:00.000-08:00

There's nothing more beautiful on a cold, clear winter day than a gaggle of snow geese. When first you hear them, you can't help but stop whatever it is you are doing, and look up at their black wing-tipped whiteness against the blue sky.

Although their numbers are much smaller in December than in the spring, they are impressive nonetheless. Like falling snow, they descend into the fields in swirls, circling and circling, their feathers sparkling as they catch the sunlight.

I was working in Geneva, New York the first time I saw the snow geese. Their unusual sound caught my attention; an unfamiliar ruckus of sorts and nothing like our local frequent flyers the Canada Geese. It was more like the baying of hounds, and there were hundreds and hundreds of them in crisscrossing V formations. I was in love!

As I came to look forward to the return of the snow geese, I shared my passion for these lovely birds with my sister while she was visiting one spring. We drove for miles searching the skies for the large masses of snowy white geese. We stopped at every vista, scouring the lakes for their large glacier-like congregations, until we came upon an open field covered in white. We jumped out of the car. There were thousands of snow geese as far as the eye could see. The noise was incredible, even as they took flight in waves and waves of white and black.

Last year some snow geese landed right across the road from our house and stayed for a day or so. However, the snow geese are not the farmers' friends. They forage in the fields, pull the plants by the roots and devastate the crop. But for me, the lovely snow geese are a little piece of heaven in winter.

It's Been Something Seeing You Again!

2010-11-24T06:08:00.000-08:00

We are now closed for the season, but what a season it has been! With almost 180 guests coming through our doors (almost twice as many as last year), we feel so lucky to have met such wonderful and interesting people.

So until next year.....

Now it's been something seeing you again
In this time we've had to spend
You've been so good to be around
I thank you for that special thrill
Keep me going on until
The next time I'm in town

Though I won't be back here for a while
Or hear your laughter, see you smile
And I'll remember what went down
I can't tell you how or when
But I'll be seeing you again
The next time I'm in town

Now the faces and the places range
'Cross the bridge of time and change
Once again I'm homeward bound
There's one thing I promise you
And that's another rendez-vous
The next time I'm in town

Pics are from our Guestbook--yep, the writing's on the wall!
You can listen to this song by Chet Atkins and Mark Knopfler here.
Music: Mark Knopfler/Chet Akins: Neck and Neck; 1990

Crisp, Clear Autumn

2010-11-16T12:53:00.000-08:00

Crisp, misty mornings. Clear, cold nights. Autumn can be surprisingly stunning, with every turn in the road a new, perfect picture: a frost covered, sparkly carcass of a black bear; a narrow band of low clouds over the lake; the whitish, translucent ice of the milky way; a shooting star. I love the mornings this time of year. The mist and fog make everything soft and light.

My morning drive is often an obstacle course of road-crossing mammals. One week, I counted 6 different species, including a red fox and a coyote. A few days ago, though, a large black cow appeared out of the mist. Slowly, steadily it stepped out of the brush, stopping and looking in my direction, the fog swirling around its hefty outline. Fortunately, I was able to stop. When one cow finds a hole in the fence, and you can be sure the others will follow. I put the truck in reverse, and backed it into the owner's driveway only to be met by his camo-covered, ski-masked, gun-wielding son riding a 4 wheeler. I'll never get used to seeing guns up close, particularly first thing in the morning. Cow, I pointed. In the road, I said. Cow? not a horse? he asked through the knitted muffler. (see, this happens more than you think!) I repeated --cow-- pointing up the road to nothing. The beast was gone, as if it were an apparition.

Closer to home, the willow tree still holds its green leaves but our maple trees are bare. One of them exposes the Baltimore oriole's nest, suspended on the end of a branch over the road. I can't tell you how many times I stood in the middle of the road watching that oriole fly in and out--right there--yet I've never been able to see that nest. Bluebirds and mockingbirds are feeding on seeds and berries while fighting off the bluejays, and Canada geese fly so low you can hear the whoosh-whoosh of their wings as they pass overhead.

While I crunch through the frozen grass, I take in autumn's crisp, dry breath, and keep watch for the return of the short-eared owls. Their moth-like flight and piercing eyes will be my entertainment for the winter. Until then, I soak up the ever-changing light, keeping my eyes open for the next beautiful thing.

Weaving Memories

2010-10-31T19:50:00.000-07:00

One of our returning guests handed me a present before she left. It was a handmade, loop and loom potholder; colorful, tightly woven, and characteristically scrappy. Holding it, I was instantly transported to the floor of a friend's house where I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, pleading for my sister to teach me the tricky method for finishing the border of my loom potholder. It was just a flash, but this blast from the past inspired me to pick up the craft again. I've been making potholders in the evenings ever since.

Satisfyingly easy to make, the patterns come alive with color and contrast. It's like quiltmaking, only faster and more functional. This type of potholder is the best you will ever use. They keep out the heat. They are washable. And, their small size keeps the corners from going into whatever you are taking out of the oven. I figure by the end of winter, I'll have a whole basket of functional potholders to share with friends and guests.

I recall spending hours weaving and planning, picking out the unpleasant colors and struggling with the ill-fitting loops. I don't think my sister ever did teach me the trick to finishing the borders. But I was surprised when I picked up the loom again: I knew how to do it.

Just recently, I heard a report of a new memory study which found that the act of remembering actually creates a new memory which is stored in a new space in the brain. I'm happy to have this new memory in this new place.

Apple Cinnamon Muffins

2010-10-14T18:08:00.000-07:00

Here is a quick and easy recipe for apple muffins using the Daring Drake utility apples. The recipe originally called for zucchini (pictured)--and they are wonderful with zucchini-- but I substituted apples this week with very good results. These freeze very well.

Apple (or Zucchini) Muffins or Bread

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
3 eggs
2 cups sugar
1 cups canola oil
1 T vanilla extract
2 cups shredded apples(or zucchini or bananas)
1/2 cup chopped nuts

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In large bowl combine dry ingredients. In another bowl beat eggs, sugar, oil, and vanilla. Fold in apples/zucchini and nuts. Add to dry ingredients. Stir just until combined. Grease and flour two 8 x 4 2 inch loaf pans OR 15 muffin tins. If making muffins, cover each muffin with about 2 tablespoons of sugar. (Trust me, these will be beautiful! See the picture.)

Bake 55-60 minutes (for bread) or about 30 minutes for muffins. Cool 10 minutes and remove pans. Wrap in foil to store. Refrigerate to keep for up to a week. Wrap in plastic to freeze.

Many Hands Make Light the Work

2010-10-05T09:33:00.000-07:00

"The ovens are off!" proclaimed Mary, "We're two hours early!"

Last week, under torrents of rain, I trekked through the puddles to Mary's house to help her and her crew wrap baked goods for the Ithaca Apple Festival. Mary's booth is one of the most popular at the annual event, and people return specifically to purchase her goodies every year. The entire operation is quite labor-intensive with the majority of the work--baking and wrapping--having to be done at the last-minute by Mary. Helping her are some local girls, and her sisters-in-law, mother-in-law, daughters, nieces, and me.

In her commercial kitchen located just off the main house, she produces hundreds of fruit pies, pumpkin pies, pecan pies and shoo-fly pies; banana bread and pumpkin breads; white, wheat and raisin (iced or not) breads; sticky buns; apple dumplings (pictured here), apple goodie and apple crisps; oatmeal, chocolate chip, and pumpkin cookies; Angel-food cakes; and whoopie pies (hers are hands-down the best in the area). Once everything is wrapped and labeled, we pack it all on to trays or into banana boxes and pie chests. The men, arriving after chores, load everything into a large trailer for delivery the next day. The whole process is repeated again the following day.

Often working only by the light from a gas lamp, I cherish the two evenings I spend there with her family reveling in the friendly banter, the laughter, and the unmitigated cooperation. The girls busily work at assembling and cleaning, and share the most unpleasant and arduous tasks without prompting or complaint. Everyone has a job to do, and seems to know exactly what needs to be done and when. Floors get swept and scrubbed, trays are carried and stacked. Older children tend to the younger, even putting themselves and their siblings to bed. Fussy children get pulled aside, soothed, fed, and entertained. Chaos one minute, and in the next, everything is clean and in order. Many hands, do indeed, make light the work.

This year, we all got a chance to sit down and put up our feet as we peered through the windows for the first sign of the truck's headlights on the hill. Elam returned from Ithaca with an empty trailer--a sign of a very good day at the festival--and I got a ride home in the buggy!

Joe, Part II

2010-09-30T06:03:00.000-07:00

The score:

Pip - 2

Joe - 0 (still clueless!)

(painting credit: "Mr. May" by Ron Donoughe www.donoughe.com)

Joe, the Vegetarian Kitten

2010-09-22T12:37:00.000-07:00

I just made an appointment at the vet for our new kittens, Pip and Joe. I've been watching them obsessively, noting their habits and quirks. Their new favorite thing is to climb up into the car wheel wells, then giving our guests a fright when they jump out and flee. I can almost hear them say "boo!"

Pip, in a flash of gray stripes, has been snatching moles and mice from our adult cat Squatter, who, by the way, is getting bigger by the day. It's impossible to feed Squatter separately from the kittens, and so by way of one very large bowl, she's been getting high-calorie kitten food along with her regular chow.

Joe, however, is clueless about the joys of mousing or eating mice. He follows behind Pip, sniffing around the area where the poor helpless rodent met its fate, but makes no other effort towards hunting. Frequently I'll hear some snapping of twigs in the garden, or paws pouncing on the porch, and I'll look out to find that he is chewing on stems, or tossing dead flowers about, or munching on bugs. He's also the first at the food dish, eating aggressively with his two front paws and most of his lanky body in the bowl. Pip and Squatter grab what they can from the space that's left.

I think he's a vegetarian (my friend Suzanne would be very happy to hear that), or maybe just a bit "touched." Maybe boy kittens mature more slowly than girl kittens? The females, as the primary food provider for the litter, have to be primed and ready to feed babies. They are a little more serious about life. A little more focused on eating animal nutrients and not fibrous weedy things. Did I say "babies?" Yikes, I think I made that vet appointment just in time!

Pudding Cake

2010-09-05T10:40:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed that cake is the theme for this year's baking adventures. Thanks to Daring Drake Farm for another interesting variety of apples! This recipe calls for rhubarb, but I made an apple fruit syrup using diced apples and a little apple butter.

Individual Pudding Cakes

Ingredients:

1/4 cup of water

1 1/2 teas. cornstarch

1 cup sugar, divided

3 cups chopped fresh rhubarb stalks

1 cup flour

1 3/4 teas baking powder

1/2 teas. salt

1 large egg

1/2 cup milk

1 stick unsalted butter, melted and cooled slighlty

1 teas. pure vanilla extract

Directions:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees with the rack in the middle. Butter 4 individual 1-cup ramekins OR an 8-inch square baking dish.

Mix together the water, cornstarch, and 1/2 cup sugar in a small saucepan, then add the 3 cups rhubarb (or apples). Bring to a simmer, stirring constantly, and simmer for 3 minutes. Remove from heat.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt and remaining 1/2 cup sugar. In another bowl, whisk together the egg, milk, melted butter and vanilla. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and whisk just until combined. You will have a very thick batter.

Reserve 1/2 cup of the fruit syrup mixture. Divide the remaining syrup among the dishes (or in the pan), then spoon the batter evenly into each ramekin. Drizzle the remaining fruit syrup over the top of the batter. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 25-30 minutes. Cool slightly before serving.

What's cuter than kittens?

2010-09-02T04:31:00.000-07:00

About a month or so ago, Kevin was out of town, and I was changing over the rooms after breakfast and checkout. I heard a truck in the driveway, and I reached the window in time to see it pull out onto the road and read the business name on side panel. That's the guy who stopped in about week earlier inquiring about a reservation, and we got to talking about kittens. He said he had a few ferals he was trying to place in good homes. We said we would think about maybe taking one.

Then it hit me. I ran down the steps, flew open the kitchen door and there it was: A small pet carrier with his business card taped to the top. I peeked through the cage door and I see not one kitten, but two, hissing and terrified. It's 95 degrees outside. I've got a full day of baking and cleaning ahead of me, and he dropped off two kittens. Momentarily overwhelmed, I did the only thing I could manage. I carried them into the barn, unlatched the carrier door, and walked out.

That evening, the kittens were nowhere to be found but I put some water and food out for them. All that night and the next I could hear their mews echoing from the barn. By the time Kevin arrived home, the mewing had stopped, and we saw no sign of them for days. I felt awful.

At the end of the week, however, I arrive home from work to find both kittens sitting under the truck. Hungry and frightened, they would run and hide whenever we approached, or peek out from behind a stack of wood. Slowly we got them to come out for food. Everyday they got more courageous, running around in the yard, chasing bugs, and getting closer and closer to us. One day we woke to find them on the kitchen porch, peeking into the windows and waiting to be fed. I don't think they have been into the barn since! Ever curious, scrambling around, and climbing the trees, they are a bundle of fun. We've named them Pip and Joe.

Our adult cat, Squatter, has adapted so well. She tolerates their adolescent antics. She shares her food with them, including freshly caught field mice and moles. She'll carry her prey into the yard, make a fuss to get their attention, drop it onto the ground, and step aside. The kittens oblige by snatching it and scampering away. I can only suppose that she is teaching them to hunt like good barn cats--good girl!

I could fritter away the hours watching Pip and Joe explore their new world, wrestling and pouncing, hiding and climbing. They make me laugh, and that's a good thing. I mean, what's cuter than kittens?

German Apple Pancake

2010-08-29T17:02:00.000-07:00

Here's a yummy confection using this week's apples from Daring Drake Farm.

German Apple Pancake

1/2 cup flour

1 T granulated sugar

1/2 tsp salt

2 large eggs

2/3 cup half and half

1 tsp vanilla extract

2 T unsalted butter

1 1/4 pounds tart, firm apples (3-4 large)

1/4 cup packed light or dark brown sugar

1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp lemon juice from 1 lemon

confectioners' sugar for dusting

Adjust oven rack to upper-middle position; preheat to 500 degrees. Peel, quarter, core apples; cut into 1/2 inch thick slices. Whisk to combine flour, granulated sugar and salt in medium bowl. In second medium bowl, whisk eggs, half/half, and vanilla until combines. Add liquid ingredients to dry and whisk until no lumps remain. Set aside.

Heat butter in 10inch ovenproof nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until sizzling. Add apples, brown sugar, and cinnamon; cook, stirring frequently until apples are golden brown and beginning to soften, about 10 minutes. Off heat, add lemon juice.

Working quickly, pour batter over apples, starting from the perimeter and working to the center. Place skillet in oven and immediately reduce oven temperature to 425 degrees. Bake until pancake edges are brown and putty and have risen aboe the edge of skillet, about 18 minutes.

Remove from oven and loosen pancake edges. Invest pancake onto serving platter. Dust with confectioners' sugar, cut into wedges, and serve.

Serving suggestion: drizzle with pure maple syrup or caramel sauce.

Note: Firm, tart apples are best. But frankly, if I follow those apple type and use charts I never seem to have the "right" apple on hand. So, I use any apple available and often combine several varieties. This pancake is delicious even if your apples are sweet or turn to mush!

Melons Galore! and Blackberry Syrup

2010-08-14T11:27:00.000-07:00

The DDs are at it again, providing us with yet another lovely summer fruit--melon!

It seems that all of our guests love melon, whether it be the juicy pink and yellow watermelons or the luscious, intensely sweet cantaloupes. Neither fruit really needs anything to punch up the taste, however, we do often enhance them with either chopped mint in a simple syrup, or with a drizzle of blackberry syrup. Blackberry syrup (recipe below) and a sprig of mint on watermelon is an absolutely lovely color combination.

Here's a picture of last week's personal-sized cantaloupes. We scooped out the seeds, and filled the hollow with blackberries and peaches, which were tossed in a simple syrup with spearmint.

Blackberry Syrup
Excellent on watermelon, cakes, and pancakes/waffles, or ice cream

2 quarts blackberries, rinsed and drained
2 cups water
1 T grated lemon peel
2 cups sugar
4 cups water
2 T lemon juice

Crush berries. Add 2 cups water and lemon peel. Simmer 5 minutes. Drain through several layers of damp cheese cloth or jelly bag. Squeeze to extract juice and pulp from berries. Mix sugar and 4 cups water. Boil to 260F (hard ball stage). Add berry juice to sugar syrup. Boil 1 minute. Add lemon juice. Pour hot syrup into hot jars, leaving 1/4 inch head space. Adjust caps. Process 10 minutes in boiling water bath. Yield: about 3 pints.

(My apologies to the non-canners reading this post: I am not well-versed in adjusting canning recipes to freezing or other storage methods.)

Rustic Pear and Honey Galette

2010-08-14T11:00:00.000-07:00

Thanks, Daring Drakesters for our first taste of autumn. Pears make me think of autumn, but I'm not done with summer yet!

Rustic Pear and Honey Galette
This free-form pie is baked on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper --the fruit tends to leak before it is done baking-- so cleanup is minimal. The honey taste really comes through in this recipe.

1/2 recipe sweet pie crust
4 firm, ripe pears, thinly sliced
2 tbsp honey (local, of course!)
1 tbsp lemon juice
3 tbsp granulated sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tbsp confectioners' sugar

Preheat the oven to 375. Roll out the pastry dough into a 13 in round. Transfer to a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Mix the cinnamon and granulated sugar and set aside.

Toss the pear slices in the honey and lemon juice. Arrange the pear slices on the dough leaving a 2 inch border. Fold the edge of the crust over the pears, making any necessary pleats. (Remember, this is rustic! No need for perfection.) Cover the galette loosely with foil and bake for 40 minutes. Uncover and bake for 5 minutes, or until the fruit is bubbling and tender, and the crust is golden brown. Transfer to a wire rack and sprinkle with confectioners' sugar. Serve the galette warm with fresh cream, or at room temperature with a dollop of whipped cream.

Elderberries!

2010-08-14T10:41:00.000-07:00

This week we received a CSA share of elderberries from Daring Drake Farm. Ironically, I've got masses of these growing next to our barn and I never thought to use them myself. Mary, my Amish neighbor, usually comes over to pick them. She makes an antioxidant-rich elixir which she uses for warding off winter colds. Jam and jelly are also popular uses for elderberries.

I confess, I have stacks of cookbooks and cooking magazines. But having a few versatile recipes is all I really need. If you have been following my recipe posts, you'll notice one thing about my baking: I like simplicity. I find no need to fuss or to mess up the entire kitchen or to use every mixing bowl in the cupboard. The end results may seem--at first--to be plain, but the "fresh and in-season" fruit taste shines through. That's important. Here at The Hayward House, we fancy it up a bit in the presentation. A dollop of whipped cream here, a berry sauce there, some lemon zest curls, or few sprigs of mint from the garden and viola! Beauty, taste, and plate-licking satisfaction.

So, I realize you checked here for an elderberry recipe, and all you've gotten so far is words. That's because there is no new recipe! Elderberries will substitute for currants in my recipes. Tomorrow, I'll be putting them in the currant cake, (sans the currants), or maybe I'll add them with blackberries to almost-pie, or toss them into a peach almost-pie, or use them instead of chokeberries in the chokeberry bread or instead of blueberries in the corn muffins. It all depends on when I get done cleaning up from breakfast, and the temperature inside my kitchen when I'm ready to start baking!

PS: I have modified the Currant Cake recipe from its original post.

Aronia Berry Bread

2010-08-08T04:51:00.000-07:00

Daring Drake keeps the baking interesting (and challenging!) with heirloom fruits. Here's one to try with those beautiful, dark Aronia berries (also known as black chokecherries) from this week's CSA share.

Aronia Berry Bread

2 cups Flour

1 1/2 teaspoon Baking powder

1 teaspoon Salt

1/2 teaspoon Baking soda

1 Egg

1/8 cup Shortening

3/4 cup orange juice

1 cup Sugar

1 cup aronia berries or one cup of juice

1 cup Nuts

Sift together flour, baking powder, salt and baking soda. In blender, combine egg, shortening, orange juice, and sugar. Add aronia berries & nuts and chop briefly. Empty into flour mixture. Mix by hand until moistened. Bake in a greased 9×5 pan at 350F for 50 to 60 minutes.

Leading the Team

2010-08-04T11:37:00.000-07:00

For months now, I have been telling my neighbor Elam that I wanted to help him bale hay, thinking the experience of back-breaking, sweaty work would do my soul some good. While he is always more than happy to laugh at me, he obviously gave the request some serious thought. As I watched his youngest brother Levi drive a team of 4 draft horses past the house with the baler and two wagons trailing behind (one of which was carrying his young son), Elam knocked on the kitchen door.

We're baling straw tonight, he says. Just a few times around the field, that's all. Want to help? This is your chance to drive the horses, feel the power of the team as they make their way around the field. Kevin can take pictures, and you can show all your friends at work!

DRIVE THE HORSES? I've never even been on a horse. You would really let me to that? Oh, no. Not tonight, I hear myself say. We have guests. I've got dishes to do. I need a few days notice to prepare for this.

After a few minutes of cajoling, he leaves to continue his work without me, not wanting to force me into it. Kevin looks at me. He's disappointed too. I tell him the truth: I'm too scared. But he assures me it will all be fine. It will be fun! What an opportunity! This is your chance, Michele! Go for it!

So I do. Donning my blue overalls (I mean, what DID I buy those for anyway?) and a long sleeve shirt, I trek out to the back field just as he's getting ready to start. After about two seconds of instructions and a snappy "giddup" we're off, with little Elam Junior on my lap, and Kevin documenting every second of it. A friend of ours remarked that Elam must really trust me. I've been thinking about that trust and his self-reliance, confidence, and spirit of community. How can any society survive without those things?

The ride was bumpy, but what a rush! I did it. Elam helped with the turns. Little Elam Junior sat quitely. Levi stacked the bales. Kevin ran along by my side and took pictures. I was leading the team and no one got hurt.

Fruit Notes

2010-08-02T09:24:00.000-07:00

No new CSA recipes to post today, but a few fruit notes worth mentioning.

I tried a new variation on the Almost Pie (post July 16). I found some beautiful blackberries at the market (sorry, Daring Drake - I cheated on you!) and mixed them with some of Daring Drake's pink currants I had in the freezer. Voila! - a perfectly sweet/tart and crunchy concoction with an amazing berry color. Our guests loved them.

Also, I took Shannon's advice, and combined black currants with chocolate. I sprinkled frozen black currants over chocolate brownie batter before I baked it. The combination was indeed a good one, and the berries made dark polka-dots on top of the finished brownie. A grand way to get those extra anti-oxidants into dessert! Thanks, Shannon!

Faux Peach Pie (Sea berry and Apple)

2010-07-23T08:03:00.000-07:00

Here's a recipe featuring this week's sea berry share from Daring Drake Farm.

Sea Berry and Apple Pie

Even though apples are not yet in season we give you permission to purchase them just this once!. When combined with sea berries and you get the taste of a fresh peach pie.

Filling:

4 cooking apples, peeled and sliced

2 cups Sea berries, without the stems

1 cup sugar

1/3 cup flour

several dashes of ground cloves

1 recipe of 2 crust pie dough

Add sea berries to a pan with a little water and six teaspoons of the sugar. Bring to a boil, simmer for about 20 minutes until the fruit are soft and pulpy. (Press pulp through a sieve into a glass mixing bowl to remove the seeds if you wish.) Add cooking apples, remaining sugar, flour and cloves and microwave for about five minutes until the apples are softened.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. and prepare oil pastry for crust. Spoon filling into prepared crust bottom and cover with top crust. Make vents to release the steam and sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar. Bake for approximated fifteen minutes. Lower oven temperature to 350 degrees F. and bake until the crust is brown and juice is bubbling from the steam vents.

Pots of Gold

2010-07-22T06:04:00.000-07:00

Last weekend a quick and violent summer thunderstorm blew through the Interlaken plateau. Thunder cracked, trees bent, and one electrifying snap of lightning fried our modem with a loud "pop!" The rain lasted about 5 minutes. What followed this outburst was one of nature's most impressive phenomena. Through the green haze and puffy clouds came the rays of the sun and a rainbow, brilliant and majestic. One end of it illuminating a corn field to our south, and the other a field of grazing cows. Would our good fortune double--what does the folklore tell us?-- if we found both pots of gold?

After taking advantage of my first full year of AARP benefits (I turned 50 last summer), I am accepting the thought of retirement. Not retirement from life, but retirement from a full-time, work-for-somebody-else job. Our bed and breakfast is doing great and we love it. I'll need something else, however, to help keep it all going. Learning a new skill which can take me into my retirement (where ever that place may be) feels like the right choice. So, beginning in January, I will be starting a new journey. It begins at the Finger Lakes School of Massage.

I'm going back to school to become a Massage Therapist.

All the papers are in place, and now I am about to write what may be the most important prose of my adult life: A tuition scholarship essay. Writing this blog has been good practice. I've learned to collect my thoughts, create a story and put it on paper (well, e-paper), and find my voice. But I've never in my life asked for financial assistance, or had to affirm myself, my existence, my contribution to society, or ask for recognition. It is unnatural for a practical, efficiency-minded, do-bee like me to talk about what makes me special, or what sets me apart from everyone else.

I keep thinking about that rainbow and the two pots of gold. A shimmery, fading glimpse of the past and spark of the future. A reflective and colorful bridge between two careers and two phases of my life. The highs and lows, the graceful arc of a happy, productive, and fruitful life. Hmmm...maybe I just found a theme (somewhat hokey I know) for my essay. Or, perhaps I'll just point the scholarship committee here to read my blog because this, after all, is me.

Oven-Roasted Plum Cakes

2010-07-16T18:36:00.000-07:00

Here's a recipe featuring this week's share from Daring Drake Farm.

Oven-Roasted Plum* Cakes

1 stick unsalted butter at room temperature
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp minced orange zest
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 cup flour
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup buttermilk
6 large ripe plums, halved and pitted

Position a rack in the center of the over and preheat to 350 degrees. Coat the insides of muffin tin (regular size) with melted butter and set on a baking sheet.

Cream the butter, 2 tablespoons of the brown sugar, and the granulated sugar together on medium speed for 6 minutes, scraping the sides when needed until the mixture whitens. Add eggs one at a time and mix on high speed for about 1 minute. Add the zest and vanilla until incorporated. Reduce the speed to low and add the flour and baking soda until combined. Pour in the buttermilk and mix on very low or with a rubber spatula until combined.

Spoon about 2 tablespoons of batter into each muffin cup. Place half plum, cut side up, into each cup pushing the plum down only a little. Sprinkle the remaining brown sugar over the cut surface of the plums. Bake (on the baking sheet) for about 25 minutes or until golden brown and passes the toothpick test. Let cool about 10 minutes before unmolding. Serve plum side up with ice cream, whipped cream or chocolate sauce.

*Variation: Use small peaches or apricots

Seaberry (or any berry!) Almost Pie

2010-07-16T17:27:00.000-07:00

Here's a recipe featuring this week's share from Daring Drake Farm.

Almost Pie
Crunchy and sweet without the hassle of making pie dough!

2 cups fresh fruit*
1/3 cup chopped nuts
1 1/2 cups sugar, divided
2 eggs
1 cup flour
3/4 cup melted butter

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease well a 10 inch round baking pan. Spread berries in the bottom of the pan. Sprinkle with nuts and 1/2 cup sugar. In small bowl of electric mixer, beat eggs well. Add 1 cup sugar and beat until well mixed. Add flour and melted butter and beat well. Pour over berries. Bake for about 45 minutes to 1 hour until golden brown and berries bubble in the middle.

By mistake, I mixed the seaberries, nuts, and all the sugar into the batter, then poured into the pan and baked. The results were just as good. John from Daring Drake Farm suggests adding hazelnuts when using sea berries.
.

*Variations: Good with cranberries, currants, apples, peaches, berries of any kind, or any fruit.

Hay Fever!

2010-07-06T09:39:00.000-07:00

The smell of hay is the scent of summer. For the past couple of weeks, we've seen an epidemic of hay fever. Anyone who keeps livestock (or grows alfalfa for people who keep livestock) is baling hay, loading hay, and transporting hay. Alfalfa is agricultural perfection. It is raised and baled on the farm, fed on the farm, and spread as manure on the farm.

Watching the weather (make hay while the sun shines!) becomes an obsession because one good rainfall, at the wrong time in the process, can destroy the crop. Rain is a blessing and a curse. Timing is everything. There's so many acres to cut and only so much time to cut it before the first rain drop falls. The sky darkens. The clouds threaten, and still they cut. They windrow. They bale. They sweat. They plow in the dark, headlights (if they have them) illuminating the clouds of chaff, methodically and deliberately until the last bale is loaded onto the wagons. The filled wagons dot the landscape in every direction.

A conventional baler throws the tied bales into slat-sided wagon with a powerful thrust machine called a kicker (or maybe that's a thrower?) and are piled up every which way. The bales in the Amish steel-wheeled wagons (which are flat and open-sided) are stacked neatly then pulled to the barn by a team of draft horses, creating a rumble that you first feel, then hear. As our neighbor's team quickly turns the sharp corner into his driveway, I've never seen him lose one bale. One of these days I'm going to help make hay, and Elam's offered to let me lead the horses--they know what to do, he says. Can you imagine me out there in the blazing sun driving the team? I've never even been ON a horse!

During this month's hay-making season, we have cows grazing in the field next to us. At night, by starlight, you can't always see them but you can hear them crunching on the grass, the young bull wailing in the night for no one's apparent pleasure but his own. Perhaps he has hay fever too.

Hey blog fans! Stories will continue..........

2010-07-01T09:45:00.000-07:00

To all of our readers out there---don't dismay!
More stories and musings are coming your way.

(Meet Squatter--our mouse-killing, tree-climbing, ex-feral feline.)

Black and Red Currant Tarts

2010-07-01T07:18:00.000-07:00

Here's a recipe featuring this week's share from Daring Drake Farm.

Black and Red Currant Tarts

8 ounces black currants fresh or frozen, thawed

8 ounces red currants fresh or frozen, thawed

4 ounces honey

4 tablespoon chopped sweet cicely (anise flavored herb)

1 recipe pastry dough (for one-crust pie)

Heat oven to 400F. Use the pastry to line 6 tart tins 2-inches deep by 2 inches diameter. Mix the currants with the honey and cicely. Fill the pastry with the Black and Red Currants. Cover each tart individually with foil and place on a baking sheet. Bake for 25 minutes. Let them cool completely. If you wish, whip up some cream and pipe it onto the tarts. (From The Currant Company)

Gooseberry Pie

2010-07-01T07:17:00.000-07:00

Here's a recipe featuring this week's share from Daring Drake Farm.

Gooseberry Pie

Ingredients:
1 1/4 cups fresh gooseberries
1 cup white sugar
1 recipe pastry for double-crust pie
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 pinch salt
1 cup sour cream
2 eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a medium bowl, gently stir together the gooseberries and sugar. Let stand for 15 minutes. Press one of the pie crusts into the bottom and up the sides of a 9 inch pie plate.
2. In a medium bowl, stir together the flour and salt. Mix in the sour cream, eggs and vanilla. Add the gooseberry and sugar mixture, and stir to coat evenly. Spoon into the pie crust, and place the second crust over the top. Crimp the edges to seal, and cut some decorative slits in the top to vent steam.
3. Bake for 55 minutes in the preheated oven. Cool to room temperature, then refrigerate until serving.

Berry Good Corn Muffins

2010-07-01T07:05:00.000-07:00

Here's a recipe featuring this week's share from Daring Drake Farm.

Berry Corn Muffins
Rich, moist and slightly sweet, with a crunchy top. Good with any type of berries. Makes 12 standard size muffins

Ingredients:
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 1/2 cups flour
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup yellow cornmeal
1 cup sugar (used in 2/3 cup and 1/3 cup measurements)
1 cup milk
1 large egg
1 cup fresh berries

Preheat the over to 400 degrees. Grease muffin tin or use liners.
Mix the flour, baking powder, 2/3 cup of cornmeal, and salt together in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, combine the milk and egg and beat to blend. Mix in the melted butter. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir with a wooden spoon just until moistened. Do no overmix. Gently fold in the berries. Spoon the batter into the muffin tins, and sprinkle the tops with the remaining sugar. Bake in the center of the over for about 20 minutes, until golden brown. Best when served warm, but they keep for a few days if wrapped in plastic. These freeze well.

Gooseberry Fool

2010-06-24T19:30:00.000-07:00

We are thrilled to own a share of Daring Drake Farm's CSA.
Here's a recipe featuring this week's fruit share!

Gooseberry Fool
(Originally the most common fruit ingredient in fools -- dating back to the 15th century-- was gooseberries, but many other fruits work just as well)

Ingredients:

1 lb of gooseberries.
1 oz of butter.
Sugar, to taste.
½ pint of double cream (heavy cream, such as whipping cream).

Top and tail the gooseberries, rinse and drain them, then put them in a pan with the butter. Soften the berries over a low heat for about 5 minutes. Once they are soft, mash them lightly with the back of a spoon. Season with sugar, to taste. Whip the cream until firm and fold it in to the gooseberries. Chill before serving. (from gooseberryrecipes.org)

Serve with a dollop of whipped cream (just kidding!)

Currant Cake

2010-06-23T06:54:00.000-07:00

We are thrilled to own a share of Daring Drake Farm's CSA.
Here's a recipe featuring this week's fruit share!

Currant Cake

Ingredients:
2oz butter

4oz plain flour

4oz super fine sugar

1 egg

7oz fresh or frozen Black Currants
(or a mixture of red, black, pink and white perhaps?)
additional cup of sugar (optional)

Heat the oven to 350F. Line the bottom of an ovenproof glass or china dish with parchment paper. (Don't use metal: the acidity of the fruit may react with metal and taint the cake. Rub the butter into the flour and sugar until it's the consistency of breadcrumbs. Stir in the fruit gently so as to evenly disperse. Mix in the beaten egg gently so as not to break the fruit. The mixture will look dry but don't worry; the end result is very moist. Turn into the dish. Cover the batter with the additional cup of sugar. This makes a nice crust on the finished cake. Bake for 45-50 minutes. Turn out carefully. Serve at room temperature with a dollop of whipped cream. (From The Currant Company)

PS: Italiced text is a modified from the original posting

Black Raspberry (or any berry!) Cobbler

2010-06-23T06:48:00.000-07:00

We are thrilled to own a share of Daring Drake Farm's CSA.
Here's a recipe featuring this week's fruit share!

Black Raspberry (or any berry) Cobbler
(makes 6 individual servings or one 9 inch pie)

Filling:
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch
Pinch of salt
Pinch of cinnamon
6 cups fresh blueberries
1 1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest
1 tablespoon juice from one lemon

Biscuit Topping (may be frozen for later use)
1 cup flour
2 tablespoons cornmeal
1/4 cup sugar, plus 2 teaspoons for sprinkling
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted
1/3 cup buttermilk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position and preheat oven to 375 degrees.

For the filling: Stir sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, and salt together in large bowl. Add berries and mix gently. Add lemon zest and juice. Transfer berry mixture to pan, and place on foil covered, rimmed baking sheet. Bake until filling is hot and bubbling around the edges, about 25 minutes (less for individual servings).

For the biscuit topping: Whisk dry ingredients together in large bowl. Whisk melted butter, buttermilk, and vanilla in a small bowl. Just before the berries come out of the oven, add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and stir until just combined.

To assemble: Remove berries from oven; increase oven tem to 425 degrees. Pinch off 8 equal pieces of biscuit dough (or small walnut sized pieces if using individual servings) and place on hot berries, spacing them so that they do not touch. Sprinkle with the remaining sugar. Bake until filling bubbles and biscuits are golden brown, about 15 minutes. Cool, and serve with a dollop of whipped cream. (from Cook's Illustrated)

Strawberry Cake

2010-06-23T05:28:00.000-07:00

We are thrilled to own a share of Daring Drake Farm's CSA.
Here's a recipe featuring this week's fruit share!

Strawberry Cake

(Think strawberry shortcake with a creamier crumb and baked in one pan. Less fuss!)

Makes one 10-inch cake

Ingredients:

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, plus more for cake pan
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1 large egg
1/2 cup half and half
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 pound strawberries, hulled and halved

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 10-inch cake pan. Sift flour, baking powder, and salt together into a medium bowl.

Put butter and 1 cup sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Mix on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Reduce speed to medium-low; mix in egg, half and half, and vanilla. Reduce speed to low; gradually mix in flour mixture. Transfer batter to cake pan. Arrange strawberries on top of batter, cut sides down and as close together as possible. Sprinkle remaining 2 tablespoons sugar over berries.

Bake cake 10 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 325 degrees. Bake until cake is golden brown and firm to the touch, about 1 hour. Some of the strawberries will sink into the batter while others will remain on top. Let cool. Cake can be stored at room temperature, loosely covered, up to 2 days. Serve with a dollop of whipped cream. (from Martha Stewart Living)

Tart-Cherry Tarts

2010-06-23T05:21:00.000-07:00

We are thrilled to own a share of Daring Drake Farm's CSA.
Here's a recipe featuring this week's fruit share:

Tart-Cherry Tarts (or Cherry Crostatas)
(makes 4 individual servings)

1 recipe of sweet pie dough or any pie dough (enough for 1 crust pie)
1 pint of tart cherries, pitted (or any other fruit--be brave!)
about 1/2 cup sugar
about 2 tablespoons of corn starch
about 1/8 cup cherry preserves, optional
Cherry Cordial (Finger Lakes Distillery), optional

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Mix the cornstarch with the sugar, then toss with the cherries and the preserves and set aside.
Divide the pie dough into 4 equal parts, and roll about 2 inches larger than the size of your individual tart pans. No need for perfection, the more ragged the edges the better. Place the pans on a foil-lined, rimmed baking sheet. (these will bubble!) Place the dough in the pans, then equally distribute the cherry mixture into each. Fold the dough over the cherries and pat down a bit. Bake until the cherries bubble from the center - about 45 minutes. Let cool, and top with a dollop of whipped cream and a drizzle of Cherry Cordial.

Other options:
Tart Pouches: If you have enough dough, make little pouches and tie them loosley with kitchen string. Once the dough is set, remove the string and continue baking as above.

Crostatas: If you don't have individual-sized pans, make free-form rustic crostatas by placing the rolled dough right on the baking pan, then scatter the fruit, fold the dough over, and pat down. Bake as above. These will bubble and run, so be sure to cover your baking sheet with foil!

Keep singing!

2010-06-20T20:06:00.000-07:00

Right now there's a Northern Mockingbird outside the window, feverishly and relentlessly singing to impress his mate, who just arrived in our yard today (he's been singing for about a month.) Driven by instinct, he settled in and kept singing. Night after night, a male barn swallow roosts beside his egg-filled nest, even after his mate has been missing for a week and the clutch is lost. Two winters ago a snowy owl made our town his home for 4 months bringing birdwatchers from miles around to observe and record his every move and pellet expulsion. What makes this place so right for them?

But, there's more. Always more. While cleaning up the remains from another spectacular peony bloom, I hear Kevin say "Here's Michele, I'll let you talk to her." On the other end of the phone line was our friend David from the market around the corner. One of his customers reported having a sandhill crane in their front yard. A sandhill crane just up the road? Could it be? I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see one this close, so I dropped the broom, the clippers, spritzed myself with bug-spray (thinking we would be trudging through a field), grabbed the binoculars, jumped in the car and picked up David along the way.

Okay, so up the road was about 3 miles, but in farm country, that's still in the neighborhood. I was half expecting the bird would turn out to be a Great Blue Heron. I was so wrong. As we pulled into the driveway, there it was, its red-patched head a beacon in the green grass under a small tree. It was no more that 20 feet from us, foraging on the ground below the backyard bird feeder. We didn't even have to get out of the car. It made no reaction to our being there. The property owner stood by, shaking his head. He never expected to be feeding a bird like this! Every few minutes, the bird would let out a loud, prehistoric-like clucking squawk. We were thrilled.

The crane has been there for about a week now, strutting around in the yard like a pet, and there is no telling how long it will stay or what attracted it there in the first place. The general area is perfect habitat for a sandhill crane, and so is the neighbor's yard next door, and the yard across the road. Why did it choose this particular yard?

Like the birds, we have chosen one place from a thousand in which to land. We're safe, well fed, and industrious. But which bird are we? The dependable migrant who stays the course year after year? Or the errant who has temporarily lost its way and must survive on wits and instinct? Or the wanderer who stays for a while, and moves on? No matter. For now, it feels right to settle in and keep on singing.

You Just Never Know

2010-06-06T16:07:00.000-07:00

Pure joy for a mother of three is having a whole bowl of fresh strawberries to herself: Not the unwanted, mushy leftovers she usually gets, but the juicy, sweet ones served just for her with a dollop of whipped cream and with fresh flowers on the table.

Words can't describe the taste of late spring, and the lines at the farm stands attest to our green-starved appetite. In our breakfasts this month, we'll incorporate asparagus, Swiss chard, rhubarb, and strawberries in savory custards or stuffed herb crepes, and the strawberries on their own or baked into a sweet little cake or tart. But even though we pay extra special attention to our breakfasts, we never know what detail or event will make a traveler's visit memorable. Often it has nothing to do with us or the food.

One morning, our neighbor Mary had the opportunity to meet a guest from Maryland and they were surprised to discover they had a connection through milk. As it turns out, the company Mary contracts to buy her organic milk is the same company the guest buys at her local market. Both recalled the story to me later, smiling. Saying, but not saying, how small the world is. How satisfying it was to put a face with a product, a family with a bottle of milk.

We hear stories about waking to the sound of a horse-drawn plow plodding along outside the bedroom window; curious heifers running to the fence, pushing each other and vying for the front spot for a photo op; exhausted parents on a weekday getaway eating breakfast in their pajamas; sitting down at breakfast to find the other guests are your best friends from your post-college years; planning a whole day of wine tours only to plop down on the porch and go nowhere for hours; seeing a barn swallow nestling leave the nest; catching the purple light just before sunset.

All the planning in the world couldn't make these things happen. As innkeepers, we savor these experiences and aspects of our life. Our house is a comfortable respite for those who are willing to treat themselves to it, and serendipity takes care of the rest. You just never know.

Barn Rules

2010-05-25T13:11:00.000-07:00

Well, it has happened. I've missed my first every-other-Sunday posting deadline! I have been writing, but all I've got is about 5 topics in draft mode. What have I been writing about? Rhubarb. Barn swallows. Kittens. Woodchucks. The quest for the perfect cup of coffee. Guests. Is it spring fever? More likely my brain is otherwise occupied with work (yes, my other job) on top of the regular coordination of laundry, preparing for guests, cleaning, baking, and having some fun time in between. All winter we make lists of projects, then good weather arrives and we have to cram it all in at once. We never sit down. And when we do, we fall asleep!

Here is some food for thought until I get my act together, that is, until I finish a story. Someone gave me this list of BARN RULES right after we moved in, and I think they are as applicable to life as the Golden Rule:

BARN RULES:
If you open it, close it

If you turn it on, turn it off

If you unlock it, lock it

If you break it, admit it

If you can't fix it, call in someone who can

If you borrow it, return it

If you make a mess, clean it up

If you use it, take care of it

If you move it, put it back

If it belongs to someone else, get permission to use it

If you don't know how to operate it, leave it alone

If it is not broken, don't fix it

If it will brighten someone's day, say it

If you fall off, get back on.

There. I'm "back on" schedule. See you in two weeks!

Our Country Kitchen

2010-05-02T18:35:00.000-07:00

I confess: I love cooking in a large country kitchen. Our kitchen has 25 cupboards, 14 drawers, 2 closets, and 9 doors. It also has the original 1880's pantry, providing us with an additional 6 drawers, potato bin, large window, and 7 cupboards--one of which opens on both the pantry side and the dining room side. Very cool.

Both Kevin and I love to cook. He makes most of our meals and breakfast entrees, and I do most of the baking and dish washing. Getting adjusted to this large space was dizzying - literally - and we found ourselves walking in circles and frequently bumping into each other. Sharing the kitchen with your spouse can be pleasingly copacetic, kind of like synchronized swimming, with each having particular specialties, tasks, and timing. But occasionally the order breaks down and it turns into a scene from Faulty Towers (...Basil!) or Hell's Kitchen (who moved the **bleeping** kitchen shears?). Fortunately, we figured out some things that work well for us, and may also work for you.

Here's our list:

1) Never walk around the kitchen with a knife pointing outward. This should seem like a no-brainer, but if your other kitchens were small, then you probably developed some habits that don't transfer into a large space.
2) Keep all knives sharpened (a sharp knife is a safe knife) and store them in a slotted wooden knife tray in a drawer. Pasquale says "your knifa is lika your besta frienda and no one can hurt you lika your besta frienda."

3) Buy two free-standing paper towel holders so you always have one where and when you need it.

4) Free yourself: remove that annoying ring connecting your measuring spoons and cups. Buy a few sets of both and keep them inside the containers of those products you use most often like sugar, flour, popcorn, oatmeal, and pet food. The extras come in handy for multiple ingredient measuring as well.

5) Keep the counter tops and flat surfaces clear of appliances and decorative items. Anything that does not get used every day does not belong on the counter.

6) Don't store anything in the cupboards above the stove. Ever.

7) By all means, keep the kitchen shears IN THE KITCHEN and tools in the toolbox!

Another feature of our kitchen is a well-lit corner space next to the laundry room where I do the ironing. I love the feel of a starched napkin or pillowcase and so I toil to provide this small amenity. Last week I discovered I could make my own spray starch by mixing water and cornstarch, and, well, that just about made my day. Ask Kevin. I was giddy.

Of course, improvements can always be made to the current space. So what's on my wish list for our country kitchen? It is not an automatic dishwasher - I actually enjoy hand-washing dishes. My dream kitchen would have the oven and the cook top as two separate units. Having to share the gas range causes some tense moments. Bing! There goes the timer. Sweetie, please step aside. I need to get into the oven NOW!!!

Bob's Retirement

2010-04-18T07:37:00.000-07:00

Our neighbor has a team of six draft horses that he employs for almost every field job on the farm. And he is rewarded for it. If you compare a horse-plowed field of alfalfa to one plowed by a conventional tractor, you will find the ground is softer and the alfalfa growing taller in the horse-plowed field, the hooves have turned and aerated the soil while the rubber tires packed it down. And though the baling is slower and more labor intensive, the operation is quieter and creates less air pollution. From a neighbor's point of view, this is a good thing.

Bob, who is about 16 years old, is Elam's favorite horse, and they have been working together for about 10 years. Their relationship is one of mutual respect, this nearly one ton horse built for work and the straw-hatted farmer who depends on him. Bob is a natural leader within the team, dependable and often the hardest worker. When the team is grazing in the pasture, you call Bob and he comes, and the others follow. But, they always allow him to enter the barn first.

But even Bob's discipline goes to the wayside when given the the opportunity to flee. One morning, as I drove past the farm on my way to work, I see the team charging down the driveway towards the road, and I quickly realize they are not harnessed. I stop, and Elam motions me to pull the car into the driveway to block them. I do it, thinking to myself the insurance company will never believe this if I even live to tell the story. But it works: all six horses turn on a dime, and gallop back to the barn. I am momentarily amazed at their dexterity. I wave, satisfied that all is well (and that my car is in one piece), and pull into the road. But, seeing another chance, they all turn again and this time pass me in a thundering cloud of dust. Elam jumps in the car, and we follow them up past my house. They turn into the field at full speed, the tops of their heads barely visible at the treeline. We stop. Watch. After a few big sighs and some quiet cussing, he asks me to get his brother with his riding horse, and he goes running after the team who are, by now, out of sight. I drive back down the road to his father's house, pick up two of his brothers and a saddle, and back to Elam's to get the riding horse. Mary comes out of the house, smiling, hands me a plateful of cookies, and we're off again to catch up to Elam, the brother riding his horse like a rodeo cowboy. Another neighbor arrives, I am relieved and start for the office again. All ended well, I learned later, and our guests were giddy after watching the whole episode from the front porch. Not only was I late for work, but I had a good story AND cookies!

Besides Bob, there have been other horses we've known: Maude, another favorite, who died unexpectedly after a long, hard day of working in the heat. Joker - the lazy troublemaker and instigator of the above incident, who was sold off and with good riddance. And the beloved Pet, retired from driving the buggy, and who just this week became a new mother at a nearby family farm.

I have watched Bob lower his head to be petted by the tiny hand of Elam's young son. A little nudge from Bob and a big smile from the boy, I was amazed at the gentleness displayed by a beast of solid muscle whose head was bigger than the two year old. Lately, though, Bob's been halting in the middle of a job and getting tired more quickly. Elam feels now is the time to retire him, before he's too old for anyone else to want him. Before he gets hurt and before difficult decisions must be made. So, Bob will be put to pasture by a friend who is taking him to Wisconsin. He'll be King Bob, a family pet and retired draft horse. No more leading the team, he'll be living a life of fresh grass and kind spirits. Happy retirement Bob!

It's a Piece of Cake

2010-04-07T18:31:00.000-07:00

At 1:00 on Easter Sunday afternoon, I poured myself a glass of wine, and sat down on the front porch to enjoy the warmth of the sun. That feels so good after a cold winter. Things were under control: Our nephews, ages 6 and 4, were watching the movies the Easter Bunny brought them. Their baby brother was fed and fast asleep. Their parents had been gone for two hours already, off for wine tasting and an overnight stay at the Belhurst. A long overdue, and well-deserved break without the kids. Piece of cake, I thought, the next 24 hours will be a piece of cake.

As an extended family, we have kept busy since they arrived on Friday afternoon. We had make-your-own-pizza night, and ate the hot and gooey creations outside on the porch. We hoofed over to the dairy farm next door, pet the draft horses, and let the baby calves suck on our fingers. We played with kittens. Lots of kittens. We collected duck eggs from a barn, ate a picnic lunch and went to the Children's museum. This morning we flew kites (boy, that Easter Bunny was right on!) under perfect conditions in the field across the road. And all of these activities were interspersed with bike riding and playing in the dirt, and with a little brotherly wrestling thrown in. The baby, who is 8 months old, watched and laughed, cried, drooled, and chewed on anything you put in his little hands, including a plastic tablespoon. That was his favorite diversion of the weekend.

At some point, however, the calm ceased and we were quickly outnumbered. Discipline and restraint went out the window. We had no choice but to put everyone in dad's Big Suburban and go for a ride to the playground. But these kids just don't wear out. On the way home, hovering just above the radio and the road noise were their chants, in stereo, of "I want ice-cream." The answer of "after dinner" was getting me nowhere. I had to outsmart them. I had to restore order and authority. Then it came to me. We pulled in the driveway, and I promised a surprise if they went right in and sat down. "Today," I announced, "we are having dessert BEFORE dinner." I think I saw, between their cheers of joy and chocolate-covered faces, one little spark of surprise, or was it a quick assessment of the trouble they would be in if their parents knew? Kevin pulled out the largest soup bowls we had, and offered not only chocolate ice-cream, but pudding and crumbled oreos as toppings. To our surprise, not only did they finish their ice-cream, but both boys ate all of their rigatoni, 2 helpings each mind you, without any challenge at all. We did it.

Not having children ourselves, I always wonder how parents get through it. But with a few fleeting moments of self-confidence and by thinking on our feet, we managed. And we had fun. The boys had another memorable weekend at Aunt Michele's and Uncle Sonny's house in the country. Loving these 3 little guys, watching them grow and discover the world. That is a piece of cake. Chocolate cake, with whipped cream, and cherry on top.

Keep A Goat Employed

2010-03-28T16:28:00.000-07:00

Before we opened the B&B we had lots of ideas on what it was to be. It had to be a place where we would like to stay. A home that reflected not only our tastes, but who we are. A home where the innkeepers share their stories, converse over breakfast, help with travel details, but leave you to your privacy. The location of our house, rural and bucolic, is attractive to travelers who want to get away from the city but we also see guests who simply want to experience something different.

The smallest details often make the biggest impressions. And for us, that is our guest soap. I never thought much about soap, I suppose, but as innkeepers we considered the following: What if someone has allergies? How could we choose one standard scent? Do we want bars or liquid soap? Which is easier to clean up? Is there a way to incorporate something local here and help a small business? Enter, serendipitously, our friend Marty. Turns out his cousin Charleen raises goats on a farm in Darien Center and (you guessed it!) makes goat milk soap. I called her. Guest sized bars, she said, are no problem. I'll send you some samples.

Shortly thereafter, we received a small, sweet-smelling package from Harper Hill Farm containing little paper envelopes of beautiful scents. Oh. My. Goodness. The variety of colors and aromas was overwhelming, but we managed to choose about 8 of our favorites. Even better, however, was how these soaps felt when you put them under water. They almost melt. Aromatherapy and moisturizer in one small little bar.

The thing about small-batch soap is it's REAL soap, rich in natural glycerin. No detergents, synthetic colors, artificial foam boosters, petroleum or alcohol. An added bonus for us? She uses lard and milk from her own pigs and goats, herbs from her garden and as many local ingredients as possible. Perfect.

Guests will find in their rooms a variety of scents from which to choose, and we encourage them to take their bar home with them. They may also purchase full size bars here.

As innkeepers, these unexpected friendships we make along the way become part of our home, to be shared with those who stay with us. Small businesses have a friendly face behind them and most likely a good story as well. So we help keep a goat employed. Buy goat milk soap!

What's for breakfast?

2010-03-18T11:56:00.000-07:00

Here at our house we are committed to using as many locally produced ingredients as possible. It's is easier than you might think, really, because our region is abundant with small, family-owned farms that promise free-range, Farmer's Pledge, or Certified Organic wares. We enjoy the challenge of creating tasty items that guests will find unique and memorable.

Depending on the day of the week, breakfast is either four courses (weekends) or serve-yourself continental style (weekdays). Our weekend breakfast features fresh fruit, local yogurt, a savory entree, and dessert (yes! dessert for breakfast!). Many venues in the area will offer strawberries, cherries, currants, apples, pears, plums, berries and a few surprises. During blueberry season, we head down the road and load up our buckets with the best blueberries around. We find freshly picked berries to need little enhancement, and so we feature them drizzled with blackberry sauce or with a dollop of whipped cream. When fruit is in abundance, jam making takes over the kitchen, providing the fresh taste of summer for us and our guests all year round. Our property, too, provides a limited yet useful source of fruit, herbs, and flowers for the breakfast table. I'm an early riser, so each morning I put on a pot of coffee and step outside for snippets of posies and herbs while the birds are chirping and the guests are still asleep.

Quite often guests will rave about the yogurt, which is produced about 2 miles down the road. Jersey cow milk, which has a higher fat content than Holstein, gives it a smooth and creamy texture. We add a topping of granola or grapenuts from the local market and a drizzle of honey or maple syrup. Yum.

Breakfast entrees are savory, rather than sweet, and feature happy hen brown eggs with yolks the color of ripe apricots. We are always on the lookout for flexible recipes we can adjust according to the produce available, but our vegetable custards, herb crepes stuffed with spinach and feta, bacon-onion tarts, and shirred eggs have become our signature dishes. No-nitrate bacon, Canadian style or thick-sliced from, share the plate along side goat cheese (chevre) medallions or straw potato cakes, both golden brown and crunchy. The feta and the chevre come from Lively Run Goat Dairy in Interlaken. This small farm, and others in the area, are making wonderful, small-batch cheeses rich with freshness and aged to perfect sharpness. We hear the cheese makers may be developing a Cheese Trail. Wouldn't that be cool? We think it could be the next big thing in the Finger Lakes.

Last, but certainly not the least, is dessert. We keep it fresh and seasonal. Strawberry cake, blueberry cobbler, buttery little tarts and pies...we love serving this part of breakfast. This time of year, while fruit availability is lean, we'll be baking local maple syrup into a walnut pound cake glazed with more maple syrup. Our testers (friends, neighbors, etc) gave us a thumb's up on this new recipe.

Weekday breakfasts are just as substantial and fresh but with a few changes. Self-paced and casual, guests enjoy toasted home-made English muffins and jam, fresh fruit of the season, and muffins or sweet cakes. Our lemon pound cake with its rich, dense crumb is one of our favorites for weekday guests.

Whether guests will be wine tasting, hiking, or traveling to their next destination, our breakfasts will fortify their journeys and sustain them until dinner. Often is the case, however, where they go no further than the front porch, sitting down and listening to the birds, enjoying the garden, or catching a cat-nap. We hope they are satisfied enough to wonder "What's for breakfast....tomorrow?"

Boys of Spring

2010-03-14T18:47:00.000-07:00

How far would you drive to see a particular bird? Tonight, just before dusk, I put on my red tassel cap, tossed my binoculars into the car, and drove about 6 miles hoping to catch the courtship display of the male American Woodcock. I know it sounds nerdy, but conditions were perfect: Both the wind and rain had stopped, and the sky was white with cloud cover. I arrived at my destination cold...muddy...but full of hope. Lover-boy did not disappoint.

I am a birdwatcher. I can't help it. Watching birds is fascinating. They are amazing creatures. They travel hundreds, even thousands of miles, twice a year, no matter what. Some feast on early berries for the long flight south, some feast on later berries when they arrive famished and exhausted. And finding a particular species is not as random as I once thought it was. If you had bluebirds in your yard last year, you will probably have bluebirds again this year and next. Barn swallows? They return every year, probably the same birds or their offspring. A couple of years ago, one particular barn swallow--we call him Bebo--decided that our porch is much nicer and less crowded than the barn, so he found a mate and built a nest. Our guests enjoyed watching the babies fledge one by one and seeing the whole family roosting all in a row at night.

There are times, however, when a storm will blow a bird off-course or something goes wrong with its navigation system, or it passes through just briefly, and we get to see an uncommon bird in our local habitat before it perishes, as is sometimes the case, or moves on. Last Christmas we were lucky to have a visit by a Snowy Owl. He stayed until May. Once word is out, generally via a posting by someone in the Cayuga Bird Club, people drive good distances to see the birds in the local habitat. You know you have found it when you turn the corner, and there are a dozen cars and giant camera lenses poking out from the windows. You walk over to the first person you see, they ask "Are you here to see the 'fill in the blank'?" and then they point. There it is. We all stand in silence and awe, saluting with binoculars raised.

Back to the American Woodcock who is, by the way, one of the first spring arrivals. It's a funny looking bird, brown spots and long bill and a waddle when it walks. But when attracting a mate, this birds goes all out. I heard the peent...peent...peent and I waited. I was hearing at least two different birds. Without warning, he flew out from the brush in a diagonal trajectory making fast chirping sounds. He climbed higher and higher, spiraling with wings fluttering rapidly. The chirping continued until he was just a speck against the sky. Just as quickly, he dove towards the ground, spinning and zig-zagging nose first, a more melodious chirping marking his descent. Then silence, followed by peent....peent...peent. I kept watching and listening as he repeated this sky dance three times before the darkness made further seeing impossible. Wow. I can't believe I finally saw it. Funny thing? Lover-boy will keep doing this even after he's got the girl!

(photo credit Michael J. Hopiak/CLO)

Beginnings of Spring

2010-03-11T21:00:00.000-08:00

With spring just around the corner, the snow drifts are subsiding and our front yard has come alive! Not only are the green shoots of crocus popping up, but the migration has begun. Geese, both Canadas and Snow geese, are passing through in a constant stream of honking, sometimes flying so low you can hear the flapping of their wings. If we are lucky, and often we are, they rest and feed in the field across the road.

No matter the temperature or the weather, the birds return and get right to work. This week's arrivals are the killdeer, bluebirds (usually here year-round but not this year), common grackle, and robins all of whom are marking out their territories ahead of the next wave. Also back, and in large numbers, are the red-winged blackbirds. The male house finches, now bright pink, are carrying nesting materials. The house sparrows fight the bluebirds for the nest boxes. Our resident kestrel munches on his dinner of vole as we arrive home from work. Soon we'll be saying goodbye to the snow buntings and horned larks who fed in small flocks at the sides of the road.

Spring not only feels different, but it sounds different. My amazement and respect for it will never cease. I don't know whether to look down at the ground for new green growth or look up in the trees for birds. It's invigorating. And it's just the beginning!

**bonus sighting: We saw a red fox crossing the road last evening. In a very cat-like manner, it stopped, turned, and looked at us.

Green In Winter

2010-03-02T09:51:00.001-08:00

What's fresh at the market?

Sprouts--alfalfa or broccoli or radish--a nutritious "crunch with a kick" for topping just about anything. Spinach--lush and dense and grown in real dirt, under real sunlight. Not the paper-thin, hydroponic leaves of the type generally available at the grocery store this time of year.

One of our favorite local markets, just down the road and around the corner from us, is Country Side Produce. These farmers always manage to surprise their regular customers with something new. We stop in for happy hen eggs, jersey-milk yogurt and cheese and we find little bags of freshness, so unexpected yet so welcomed in these snowy and cold winter months. In December, we gave up on seeing anything but squash, potatoes and garlic - when suddenly there appeared greens of a variety that are (as the owner explained) grown right there on the farm and able to withstand a freeze or two. Then, just as suddenly, they were gone. No apology for the short supply. No promise of more. A few weeks later, spinach appeared and it, too, disappeared quickly. This week we have sprouts, and baskets of sweet, juicy organic citrus from California (okay, not local, but a taste of sunshine and worth every penny.) Today, there were jugs of maple syrup made at a nearby farm.

Sure we can go to the supermarket and get any thing we want, any time we want it. But this is more fun, probably more nutritious, and it definitely tastes better. We eat what's in season and what's available. We know who grows our food and how they grow it. By doing this, we support our local economy and our neighbors in the process.

Upstate New York winters are snowy and gray. But with local farmers who are willing to be creative and productive for their devoted customers, this year we have some green (and orange) mixed in.

4x4 x 3 x 2

2010-02-26T09:06:00.000-08:00

One 4x4 Ford F350 turbo diesel truck with Snow Dog plow.
3 strong men with shovels. 2 draft horses. That's what it took to get us out of the driveway Friday morning.

How much snow did we get? Hard to say. We can see the grass, yet not the porch. We'll say about 15 inches for now.....it is still blowing and snowing.

The challenge:
A monster snow drift in the driveway, which spread about 80 feet between the barn and the road.

The men:

Kevin, my hubby and innkeeper of The Hayward House. Elam, our neighbor and dairy farmer. Bill, our 81 year old neighbor and all around nice guy.

Can you guess who owned the 4x4 Ford F350 equipped with a Snow Dog?

The result?

Fear of Frying

2010-02-17T09:54:00.000-08:00

Our dog Jake has a fear of frying. No, he's not afraid of heat (actually, he loves lying in the hot sun on the stone sidewalk). But rather, he's afraid of the sound of sizzling from a pan on the stove. I'll give you a little Jake history shortly, but first, here's a couple of disclaimers: Don't worry about getting out the tissues. At the time of this writing, the Jakester is alive and well. Let's face it. He's probably the healthiest dog around. Furthermore, let it be known that we have never hit, kicked, burned, abandoned, or otherwise inflicted any manner of cruelty on this dog.

We're not sure what breeds combined to sire this fine mix, but when we found him at the kennel as an 8 week old pup, his tag listed him as a lab/shepherd. I believe that was simply to make him more appealing to the general population and therefore more adoptable. Once we got to know him, however, we found not a molecule of lab or shepherd in this crazy mutt. He's white with brown and black spots. He's tall and skinny. He hates the water. He loves to run, leap, and chase. He does not drool. Did I say he loves to chase? And he always smells wonderful - like a new puppy. His attitude (and attention span) is terrier and hound from the end of his wet, black nose to the tip of his whippet tail. My dad says he's part goat. What other animal could reduce an aluminum soda can into a pile of metal filings without injury or stomach upset? Or, scratch and gnaw a door frame down to the studs, nails poking through and a heap of wood kindling on the floor?

These incidents should have been a sign. There is this problem. Jake's sensitive, the vet says, and anxious. Afraid we will abandon him (no way!) and never return (we ALWAYS return, doesn't he know that by now?). He's tried to scratch his way out of the kitchen to find us, and has broken all four canine teeth in the process. He's chewed a door frame down to the stud, exposing nails and leaving splinters of wood in a pile. Was he hearing ghosts? Was it a sound in a pitch undetectable to the human ear? We see the immediate change in demeanor when a perceived threat is in his space. He cowers, tail between his legs, and slowly creeps to the nearest door, or hides under a table, or tries to climb onto your lap to get away from whatever it is. Threats include the sound of sizzling. Or a buzzing fly (he's afraid of the flyswatter). Or from a clip binder (it's the snapping sound). And now, for his own safety, for the comfort of our guests, and for our peace of mind, he may no longer be left alone in the house. Either he goes with us for a ride (oh boy--RIDE!) or is locked-down in an undisclosed location. Sometimes he goes to Paws & Whiskers Boarding Kennel, where he is showered with love and exercised three times a day. Or he gets a mid-week indulgence: A visit to doggy-day-care at a horse farm, and a chance to play all day in the mud, and just be a dog with a dozen or so of his kind.

Anxieties aside, he is one gentle companion who is always on his best behavior for guests. Tail wagging, he greets new arrivals with a run onto the porch, and a charge back into the house to find his favorite toy, often a mangled stuffed animal or a joint compound bucket lid, rough from gnawing. While we are making breakfast, he whines at the door until we let him into the dining room where he waits patiently and expectantly for his new friends, always hopeful for a handout. He's even garnered a few personal notes in the guest book.

Jake turns 11 years old next month, but he's still as spry and playful as a puppy. During a game of Kong-Frisbee (a toy advertised as indestructible but Jake managed to chew a hole in it), he runs with abandon, leaps and stretches for the prize, his ears extended like wings and all four paws are off the ground. Our neighbor's little boy laughed until he fell over when he saw this stunt for the first time. Oh, the joy of a happy dog, doing what he loves the most. Running. Chasing. Leaping. He's not afraid to fly. What style! What technique! Fly, Jakey, fly!

My BBF is Amish

2010-02-14T11:00:00.000-08:00

Mary, our Amish neighbor, has become one of my best friends. Never in a million years would I have expected this to happen. I attend her children's Christmas program at the one-room school house. She scurries across the field to deliver buttery, right-out-of-the-oven pretzels or home-made bread. We are invited over for dinner. Every October I help her and her extended family wrap hundreds of cakes, pies, cookies, and breads for the Apple Festival booth. She and her daughters helped Kevin by filling helium balloons and fixing up the house for my surprise birthday party, appearing unexpectedly at the door, right when he needed them most, asking "What can we do to help?" We pile in the car or the buggy and go for ice-cream. Her children visit with a wagon full of kittens, invite us to see their baby bunnies or new chicks. When their baby brother was born, they couldn't wait for us to get home from work so they could be the first to tell us! I've taught the little boy to give me "high five."

Through our kitchen window I can see the foot-worn path through the cow pasture between our houses, a narrow, winding tether connecting our lives to theirs. You see, the Amish in this vicinity of Seneca County are of the Old Order, and (for reasons which I won’t begin to explain in this blog) their telephone is in our barn. Twice a day, Mary or her husband treks to the barn to conduct business, connect with family, or to order a driver for traveling distances too far for a horse-drawn buggy. And, if we’re lucky, we get a chance to exchange stories.

A real treat for us is a church Sunday, when buggies fill the roads and you feel the rumbling of steel wheels and clopping of horses hooves. At night, the horses are illuminated by two flashing headlights, and in the winter they steam with sweat and whinny in patchy clouds of iced breath. It’s like a promenade of pearls, each buggy following close behind another up over the hill, down into the dip and past the house.

Every morning I walk the dog past their farm, and I can set my watch by the activity in the milking barn. The chinking of chains against metal, the flat clang of the milk bucket on the concrete floor, the mooing, the steadiness and order of her life, and even the smell of manure are a comfort to me. (no, I cant' believe that either!) The gas lights from her kitchen brighten the driveway, drawing me in.

She gives and expects nothing in return. Her life is centered around her family, her faith, and her farm. She teaches by example. She’s a good neighbor and I am a better neighbor for it. We giggle. We share stories about our families. We respect one another's culture, but laugh at them as well. We talk about food, quilting, canning, farming, organic farming, parenting, marriage, weather, and just about any issue of the day. Never negative, never judgmental, her conversation always ends on a positive note and lifts my spirit. In her modesty, she would be humbled by this post dedicated to her. I am humbled that she calls me her friend.

Winter Sport

2010-02-08T19:00:00.000-08:00

Winter is upon us bringing short days and sustaining winds from the west. And while we are closed for the season, we engage in our favorite winter sport: RENOVATION!

Our current project is to renovate what probably was, in the original floor plans, the library. Should be simple--no plumbing, but a large room with two windows, three doors, one double pocket door, and a large walk-in closet which we'll make into a guest pantry, complete with a small refrigerator and microwave.

A blank slate, this big empty room, waiting for purpose. Make it a game or media room? Not quite in keeping with our "quiet country setting." Hire an Amish cabinet maker to construct bookcases covering the 9ft walls from floor to ceiling? Stunning, but not quite right. We waited to be inspired, and in the meantime refinished the floors, placed a few vintage chairs around a nice rug, hung a reprint of an old local town map on the wall knowing...hoping...that by and by an idea would strike us. A visit to the local printer was the inspiration we needed. Vintage maps! We visualize a quiet reading room with vintage maps of New York towns hung salon style from wooden picture rails, on walls painted the color of.......um......we'll get back to you on that! Choice can be torture.

We insulate, we hang drywall, and Kevin works diligently and tirelessly putting in switches and light boxes, and taping and mudding. Soon I'll be sporting my new Carhartt overalls (oh, goody!) and help with the sanding and painting.

As we peeled away layers of wallpaper, we exposed the trends and styles of long ago. The bottom layer is like a fresco, adhered to the crumbling horsehair plaster which, when removed, reveals square nails in the framing and lath so dry it crackles and spits when we burn it.

From behind the lath, plaster and small hickory nuts spill onto the floor, each nut hollowed out on both sides. I imagine the squirrels, who lived here when the house sat empty, scurrying through the walls, nesting, and stocking up for the cold winter.