Farming to Keep the Grass Short

Multiple cheeses.

Liz returns from the UK well loaded down with goods - all manner of wool, handkerchiefs, taramasalata, books, knitting needles, sourdough flour, potato starch and, above all CHEESE. Lots of cheese. Enough fancy cheese and good old vintage cheddar to keep us in cheesy heaven for many a week. As well as going to the Isle of Wight for the wedding, which was a dream by all accounts. she was able to spend a couple of days in our old home haunts of Faversham in Kent where-at the suberb and highly recommended farm-shop-cum-world-deli Macknade Fine Foods.

Finally some reasonable apples from the orchard - these
are Red Windsor

This place is a veritable Alladin's cave of foodie stuff - from fancy cheeses and cold meats, vegs and exotic fruit, tins, packets and jars from all around the world. Need some African dried biltong meat? Jamaican spices? Greek salads? Pawpaws? Cajun food mix from the Deep South? Obscure Italian wines? Unusual teas or coffees? Spanish cheese? Macknade should be your first port of call and we never fail to drop in for a browse when we are in the area, even now we live 500 miles away.

Nearly late enoiugh to be 'Winter Fruiting' but no, this is my first
decent pick from the Autumn Bliss raspberry canes this year

This time, with Liz in the UK, I spotted a Macknade promo for the cheeses on Facebook and tipped her off. She came back with little 250 g sampler cuts of the Spanish cheeses Torralba Mahon, Garroxta and La Peral plus some Tomme de Savoie and some local (to Faversham) goat's cheese called "Fremlins Faversham Log" named after the goat, not the brewery! Macknade are so good at this that the sticker bearing the weights also has tasting notes for that cheese written on it so that we know for example that the Mahon is made with "semi- cured DOP Raw Milk: is close textured, salty and full flavoured with a peachy aroma from the paprika and oil-rubbed rind. (It comes) from Menorca in the Balearic Islands and is aged for 3-4 months"

Nice clean 'Orla' spuds now coming out of the ground.

We have tried all these as a mini cheese-course after a supper, but we are planning to do a real cheese-fest, tapas style meal with biscuits, grapes, French bread, port and other 'trimmings' on one of the weekend days, to give them all a proper road-test. Liz also returned with a house-brick sized block of vintage cheddar - this one was a Mazy inspired purchase - which we will use up at normal pace - it will take us about 6 weeks from the size of it.

At least one of the geese has come back into lay. 

With Liz currently working, I find myself back in the kitchen to a whole new degree and working my way through some old repertoire plus exploring some new avenues just to put the everyday supper on the table. Tonight I had some fun with Spaghetti Carbonara which is a dish I like but which we rarely get and I had not tried to cook before. It worked really well but the recipe demanded 7 ounces of bacon and 3 and a half of parmesan (this is Darina Allen's Ballymaloe Cookery Book). The bacon I had was some 'cooking bacon' of unknown precedence in the freezer since January and it may have been a bit salty because, with the parmesan and creme fraiche too, the final product was just a tad salty to be perfect. We ate it (proof of the pudding?) but if I use that bacon again I may well soak it in a couple of changes of water prior to frying it. For eggs, the recipe asked for 3 and one of our geese has conveniently come back into lay, so one goose eggs makes 3 hens any day in our kitchen. Thank you Miss Goose. I have also been able to produce some of those lovely meals where everything on the table is our own product. Yesterday our chicken was cooked in our tomato 'salsa' and served with our spuds and our chard.

Spaghetti carbonara.

Meanwhile, in the livestock dept, I could kid you with a lovely brag; I definitely 'rock' as a pig wrangler, to the degree that there is a risk I will become smug and complacent! Not seriously, of course, but the last few times I have tried to move pigs it has gone like a dream so that everyone watching thinks I am some kind of genius pig-whisperer who should be doing it for a living; I just hope my luck holds out. Today we had to try to load Sue and Rob's last pig, a full grown (and possibly in-pig) sow over at their place. She had been bought by a smallholding north of here but they had only managed to load the enormous boar (Rodney Trotter) yesterday; the sow was having none of it and charged off into the field. They sent the buyer off with the boar, promising to catch the sow today and deliver her.

I was there for about 10 am expecting a bit of fun and games. Sue was off delivering a cat to the vet, so Rob and I were on our own. Well, it took us about 3 minutes, certainly no more than 5. We had laid straw all over the trailer ramp, Rob tempted the sow down the 'race' and I brought up the rear with a sheet of currugated iron, trying to bar the way for any attempt by the sow to turn round and get back into the field. Well the sow was like a different animal. She sauntered down the race, took a brief and mildy concerned look over her shoulder at me and my sheet of metal, then spotted Rob theatrically throw his bucket of fruit and peelings into the trailer. She shugged her shoulders as if to say, 'ah well' then strolled up the ramp and ignored us leaping forward to slam the ramp/door shut on her. Rob and I could barely believe our luck. Sue came back and the job was pretty much done. Hitch up the trailer and head to the kitchen for a coffee. The sow is now delivered to the destination and reunited with Rodney, to much happy grunting from both pigs.

We had a deal, Mr Fox. Stay away and we will leave you alone.
Start messing about and this trap is ready for you. 

Here, we have the worrying arrival of another regular fox. This chap started coming every night while the clear skies and full moons were on around the lunar eclipse and the dogs were onto him, so we were getting some interupted sleeps. Regular readers will know that we had a fox problem in January and ended up (very unfortunately) having to have three shot. At that stage I made a little deal with any remaining foxes that if they stayed nocturnal and left my stock alone, then I'd leave them alone but if this lad is going to renage on his part of the deal, then we will be ready. I have the lend of a fox trap just in case but I have left this locked open at the moment so that Mr Fox can get used to it and come to believe that it is a harmless open metal box which occasionally has old fish heads in it.

Rambo has now worked his way round all three 'yows' and
can go home at the end of the month.

Finally, I was very amused to hear a couple of old boys discussing beef prices. One had apparently paid a bit more for some animals than he had liked but commented to his friend that "What else could I do? If I didn't do this, the grass would not stay short". That is now my new favourite farming philosophy - Farming to Keep the Grass Short! Not feeding the nation or making money or breeding the best pedigree animals you can breed, just keeping the grass mowed! Amen to that! Brilliant.

A Visit From Airy Fox

These slid down very nicely in Connemara
Picture by Airy.

Off to the Airy-port this morning to drop back off our house guest of the last few days, our good friend whom I will call, for the purposes of this blog, The Airy Fox, or 'Airy' for short. This visit was one of a string of drops for Airy who had come to us from one set of friends and was heading home to some family for the big day, then off to visit our other chum, Mazy in Kent and on and on. We had the pleasure of her company  from Saturday lunchtime round to today lunchtime and we thoroughly enjoy the chance to do 'host'; especially Liz loves the chance to do 'hospitality', bedroom, facilities, food, drinks.

Towser relaxes at 'tay'. Picture by Airy.

We both love the chance to show a newcomer this place, the livestock and garden and the local environs; we have the lovely scenic area of Connemara on our doorstep and two nice towns and lots of pubs in easy range. Obviously, if you are coming to 'the Wesht' in December then you should expect a bit of rain and the forecast promised that Saturday would be dry but that the rest of the stay would feature that local speciality 'soft days'. Roscommon does a type of rain which we never really saw in Kent, a heavy drizzle which falls on windless days. It is not "lashing down" or raining in any way which you'd call 'heavy rain' drumming on the roof or bouncing off the road, but it is quietly, insidiously, quickly and thoroughly wetting. Nothing we could do, of course, but get on with things where the soft day did not matter.

Another 'Airy' pic - fooling around at the 'Quiet Man' statue
in Cong village in Connemara. 

We try to be very relaxing hosts. We are happiest if the guest feels completely at home and not obliged to "do stuff" all the time. If they want to relax, do nothing, and read books then that is fine by us. 'Port in a Storm' is the effect we are aiming for, so no insistence on entertainment, busy-busy, worrying that people might be bored and certainly no forcing anyone to play Charades or what ever. Horrors! So, by mutual consent we settled on a little nip out to see a Craft fair / Farmer's Market on the Saturday afternoon, a trundle round Connemara on Sunday and a visit to Strokestown Park house and National Famine Museum on the Monday.

Airy's 'clever' camera can do these sepia
'monochrome' effects. This one she called
"Cosy Evening'

The Craft Fair went down OK and we found a nice pint of Guinness at Val's Bar just across the road. We came home to get fires going at both ends of the house so that we were all cosy for a lovely meal, drinks and chatting. Good food was a definite part of this visit; on Saturday we'd had home made soup and bread for lunch and supper was a lovely chicken curry, chickpea and pepper dip, carrot salad and a dessert of clafoutis. The Connemara mission suffered a bit from the all-day rain; with the low cloud shrouding the tops of the impressive mountains, so that full scale scenic photography was out. However, Airy loved the bits she could see - glimpses of hill side, impressive roadside outcrops, heather, swollen torrential streams and waterfalls and we were all amazed by the light.

Sticky toffee (date) pudding. The pudding rose so well that
there was no room in the dish for the sticky sauce, so Liz
served it separately. 

The cloud layer must have been a thin one and transparent enough that an intense light powered the oranges, russets and 'straw' colours of the Autumn vegetation to such a degree that you could believe that they were lit from beneath like an old fashioned colour-slide (transparency). It accentuated, too, the blackness of the lough water which was getting quite a 'chop' from the wind and had 'white horses' on its waves. You wouldn't have been able to do any of this justice with the camera, but we all agreed that we need to bring another chum of ours (Helbel) out there, who does weaving with a very sophisticated loom, and would definitely enjoy the combination of vibrant russet and orange, grey and darker colours.

Chilling with (l to r) Towser, Deefer and Poppy

The Strokestown Hall and Famine Museum were a real find - we'd not been before and we did not know what to expect from this famine-era "big house" not lived in since the 1980's and now owned by a transport company (the lorries are parked out of sight!) and also given to events like the current "Victorian Christmas Experience" (yoiks!). We did not time our visit very well as we arrived at the Museum with only 40 minutes to spare before the afternoon's guided tour of the house (after which we'd need to dash home before dark - this was Winter Solstice, the shortest day, dark by 16:30).

Langoustines or "Dublin Bay Prawns" if you prefer.

We had to whizz through the Museum a bit and didn't do it justice. It was fascinating if a bit 'awkward' learning more about the Famine while running into our own extravaganza of food and drink, Christmas! I am also a bit wary of reporting on anything to do with the Museum and the Famine, being a Brit, and a newcomer to these shores myself, but I will try to give you a flavour. The family who owned the house during the Famine were not the best landlords and were much hated in the village; one of them actually got himself assassinated, they used to sound a coach-horn as they were loading into their coach and horses, and the villagers had to run for cover back into their houses because the Pakenham/Mahons did not want to see the 'peasants' as they drove out of their gate in all their finery.

A fried breakfast for the final morning
of the visit.

The local Catholic leaders managed to build 2 new church buildings during the worst years and had 3-day parties to celebrate them being completed and opened, while thousands died in the streets and village of hunger. The Family kept copious records and accounts of estate transactions at the time, rents collected and defaulted, evictions, wages paid to Estate workers (including many Irish, obviously) and the winners and losers, and this excellent archive of documents has survived through to today, hence the siting of the National Famine Museum in that estate. Historians in the present day do a lot of hours researching this treasure and what they publish can make uncomfortable reading - the accepted truths, the good guys and bad guys do not always turn out to be those expected. We will definitely be returning to the museum when we have more time.

Exhibit A.

The "Victorian Christmas Experience" was all gone away and packed up (mercifully) when we arrived (it must have been a Saturday or morning-only thing). Santa's "car" (an ancient Talbot) was parked in the rain, his sleigh was vacant and a few sorry beads of fake (soluble) snow were being washed into the drains by the drizzle. We had an excellent guided tour of the house to ourselves by 'John' who had an easy, amusing manner and a fund of well practised knowledge. The house is full of the original furniture, toys and equipment, threadbare carpets and time-worn wall coverings which was used by the last resident, Olive (88) as she slowly went broke, selling off the original (priceless) paintings and replacing them with fakes and copies which try (and fail) to cover the darker patches where the original frames had protected the walls from sunlight. The feature which caught our attentions most was undoubtedly the huge 'galleried' kitchen

(http://www.strokestownpark.ie/house)

with its bread ovens, spit roasters and smokers. Apparently the 'toffs' did not want to actually speak to the servants, so they'd come to the gallery and lower menus and recipes down on a string to the staff working below, or simply bring the guests to come and watch the work like some kind of spectator-sport! This (kitchen) had been boxed in (luckily without being ripped out!) by the end so that the old lady had only one servant and a tiny kitchen built within the old galleried room. It is worth a look and we will be back to that one too. Mazy will love it,

Well, all good things must come to an end, and we had to feed Airy our 'traditional' last breakfast before taking her to the airport and bidding her farewell. Guests always seem to enjoy our 'fries' and they feel well set up for avoiding airline fodder and the long wait till they can get to a proper kitchen again. I hope she won't mind me saying she was a real joy to 'have'. Thank you, Airy. We meant it when we said you could have stayed Christmas if you'd fancied it and you will be most welcome back when you come back; perhaps we will pick a less rainy day to try Connemara, next time!

A nice Stilton at last!

Meanwhile, just one complaint about Christmas. We like a good Stilton in this house and at Christmas we are happy to pay the extra and buy one of those ceramic lidded 'jars' which hold the cheese, sometimes under a white wax airtight plug; you lift the plug to let the air at the (white) cheese and allow the blue veining to develop at room temperature, in time for Christmas. Lidl supermarket's "Long Clawson" brand seemed just the ticket; I was sure I could remember Long Clawson as being a reliable, good quality name. Apparently not. What they call 'Stilton' is not a hard cheese at all, but a Stilton flavoured soft spread, as if the cheese has been whisked or beaten, creamed or abused some other way to make it spread-able and softer than baby food! I feel there should be a regulation making sure that this gets described as 'creamed' or some-such. Luckily, I was bemoaning this fact on Facebook and not one but two of our friends happen to live within a stone's throw of REAL Stilton country, home of "Cropwell Bishop Creamery" and other proper manufacturers of good cheese. One of these (Thank you, Sarah) offered to rescue us from cheesy hell by posting us a pot of the good stuff and this duly arrived, safe and sound this (Tuesday) morning courtesy of Ireland's wonderful postal system, 'An Post'.

Well, this is likely the last post I write before the big day, so please all my readers have a brilliant and memorable Christmas. Good Luck, Now.