Wash Eggs Like A Boss, Baby. Winter time is not a clean time on the farm. Just yesterday, as I was out throwing kitchen scraps to the pigs, I nearly face planted into the muck after my rubber boots got stuck in the deep sludge. There were slurping noises. And waving arms. And perhaps a
Tis the season, my friends. For greens. Though… let’s face it… it’s pretty much always the season for greens. Greens in the fall. Greens in the winter. Greens in the spring. Greens in the… see where this is going? We’ve got greens coming out of our eyeballs and sprouting from our ears. Mustard greens. Kale.
Finally, this ‘ol homesteader can breath a sigh of relief! Dare I say… something went as planned? And considering the fact that nothing ever goes as planned, I’m counting this a big success. Huge. Gigantic. An incredibly large success. A delicious success, too. In fact, if it was up to me, I’d bathe in this
Many homesteading skills are best learned through experience. And that I say from, well, experience. Most any of the tasks that we so desperately desire to take on as homesteaders require a sense of adventure – of focus – of determination to make it work. It was the same situation this past August, when I
I was recently asked, ‘Shaye… why do you do it? Why do you slave over the stove… over the garden bed… over the animal poop… over the piles of dirty dishes? Why, why, why?’ Great question, ye who shall not be named. (Don’t worry. It wasn’t Voldemort that asked me.) Anyway, I thought for about
WARNING: GRAPHIC IMAGES OF ANIMAL BUTCHERING. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. Today we’re talking about how to butcher pigs. Truthfully, I thought it would be harder to say goodbye to our pastured pigs – Wallace and Chester. And as Brandon Sheard (aka: The Farmstead Meatsmith) (aka: Super Awesome Advocate for Home Butchery and Old School Preservation Methods)
WARNING: PHOTOS OF BUTCHERING CHICKENS FOLLOW. KNIVES. BLOOD. DEATH. PROCEED WITH DISCRETION. The first of many harvests took place this weekend, as it was time to send our beloved (or rather, tolerated) meat chickens to the freezer. It’s never a day I look forward to – taking the life of an animal brings me no
Once upon a time, there was a woman who had a baby. Eight days later, she found herself in her kitchen. Barefoot. With an apron on. Though thankfully, no longer pregnant. She once again found herself hovering over a basket full of produce from the garden – tomatoes, onions, green beans, eggplant, and a variety