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May at the Inn
May is a busy time at the farm and at the Inn. Yesterday we moved the new hens (and we actually got one rooster too) up to their new quarters in the fenced free range area. They still have to be separated from the old hens until they are not so small...that pecking order can get pretty hectic sometimes! We have named the rooster Steu and the girls are just The Girls. Be sure to walk up and say hello if you are up here on the farm.
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Winter in the Vineyard
January in the vineyard is solitude...peacefulness broken only by the quite call of the Great Horned Owl in the top of the firs west of the vines. Neal begins pruning in January and is out by 7:45 each morning no matter the weather because farming does not wait for the sun. Each day he touches the vines, determining the strongest shoots to leave for the next year's growth and the ones to cut back for the second year. This is the third year Neal has managed and trimmed the vines; a way for him to understand the cycle in vineyard, a way for him to touch each plant and think about the crop of fruit to turn into wine...such is the life of the farmer and the vitner. He sometimes ponders what brought him to this beautiful place in the valley which he strives to nurture and which he cherishes. Each clip of the pruning shears brings him closer to the nature of the vineyard. You should think about coming out to the valley in January or February...solitude in the vineyard is a peacefulness not to be missed but to be cherished among the vines.
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Trails to Feast
Feast is coming! It's the Northwest's ultimate food and drink festival, coming to downtown Portland September 19-22. It showcases Oregon's bounty -- it's fresh produce, it's local ingredients, and it's talented chefs, winemakers, brewers, cheesemakers, and other artisans. Offering cooking classes, tasting panels, speakers, food & drink pairings, tasting events, and nightly gourmet dinners, it's everything a locovore could want.
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On Surprises and an Unlikely Recipe
Keeping a luxury inn on 42 acres of fields, forests, and vineyards is a lot of work. In addition to the regular duties and upkeep of the inn, there are a host of farm chores: chickens to keep, gardens to water and weed, gophers to trap, fields to mow, the vineyard to tend. How Karen and Neal have kept it up so tirelessly for ten years is beyond me. And on top of all the regular work, there are always surprises to deal with. Like the other day, when Neal noticed the unmistakable stink of skunk in the garage. He searched every corner of the garage, wondering if he would find a skunk in one of them. He didn’t, to his relief, but he soon found the culprit curled up in her usual spot on the bench outside the front door: Queen Bee. She had gotten herself properly skunked.
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Lavender Lemonade
This time of year, lavender is in its prime. The official Oregon Lavender Festival may be over, but the lovely herb continues to flourish and dots our property in patches of purple and white. One of my favorite uses for lavender is Lavender Lemonade – it’s sweet, tangy, floral, and it’s a perfect thirst-quencher on these hot summer afternoons. You can make regular old lemonade and just throw a handful of fresh lavender flowers in it to infuse, but I’ve found that the best method uses lavender simple syrup. Make sure to use culinary-grade lavender, meaning lavender that hasn’t been treated with any chemicals. Fun fact: If you use the variety of lavender called Hidcote, your lemonade will turn pink.
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The New Pecking Order
Two very special deliveries came the other day. The first was the Cadillac of chicken coops, handmade by Tristan Nichols of The Chicken Coop Store. It arrived in the afternoon, and in a matter of minutes was assembled next to the garden awaiting the second special delivery: ten young hens. They came in the back of a white SUV, huddled together in two crates, their necks resting on each other’s backs. They were hesitant to leave the comfort of their huddles for the spacious coop, even with its fresh hay, full feeder, and comfortable roosts. Neal opened the crate doors, but they refused to come out, even with a couple gentle shakes to the crate to coax them out. “Okay,” he said, “We’re going to have to do this the hard way.” He reached in and grabbed a hen by the legs and pulled each one out in an unhappy flurry of squawking and flapping. Once they were free of the crates, they resumed their huddle in the corner of the coop furthest from Neal.
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The Ladies
I got out of my car at the inn one morning and heard a commotion up the hill. Before I could place the sounds, a frantic hen came sprinting around the bushes as fast as her little legs would take her, with a very happy chocolate lab in pursuit. It would have been comical had I not known exactly how it was going to end. I ran up the hill as fast as I could, shouting, “No! No!” at the dog, but it made no difference. I lost sight of him in the tall grass, and when he reappeared, the hen was limp in his mouth. I kept running and shouting at the dog, because now I was mad. But one look at me, and he ran into the woods in a flurry of feathers and was gone.
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Strawberry Jam
Grandpa showed up at the kitchen door yesterday with 4 giant flats of local strawberries -- time to make the annual batch of Utz family strawberry jam! I'd been looking forward to jam day for a while. I made my own jam for the first time last summer, and now I'm hooked. Homemade jam is so simple to make and so much better than the store-bought stuff that I'm surprised more people don't make it.
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Spring Bloom
These steadily warmer June days have had a dramatic effect on the land – the strawberries are deep red and heavy in our garden, the lavender is beginning to bloom purple and white, the olive trees are peppered with buds, and the mint has jumped its pot and is plotting a takeover of the herb bed. In the vineyard, the buds are blooming with delicate white flowers, a hopeful sign of an early harvest this year. Beneath the sound of the breeze is a constant chorus of honeybees; when it’s quiet, you can hear them humming as they work.
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Queen Bee
“She’s a working cat,” I tell visitors when they ask about the brownish black furball lounging on the front mat. “She has to stay outside.” But beyond that, no rules apply to Queen Bee. The outdoors is her realm, and she does what she wants. Her job is to protect the property from rodents, which never feels like work to her, and when she’s off duty, she’s parked in the middle of the front mat awaiting her due affection. Most people coming and going stoop to give her a few strokes, but some sit right down on the courtyard cobblestones and dote on her. One day, a man backing out the front door with a wine-laden handcart nearly stepped on her, and she darted out from under his heel and gave him an indignant glare. The man laughed and said, “I see why she got her name.”