Also, Snoopy's friend Woodstock would taste lovely in the center of a turducken

colleague: "Oops, I just said 'stupid'. My 5 year old would tell me I had used a bad word." me: "Yeah. We can't say that at our house either. 'Idiot' & 'dumb' are also verbotten. I let my kid sit in my lap while we snipe Nazis online in the head for a very bloody death and/or watch Dexter, revenge of Freddy's Nighmare the 13th, but 'stupid' is not to be uttered." colleague: "Oh, we avoid all the 'death' things too. When the spider in our window caught and ate a butterfly, we had to hug our little boy until he stopped shaking." me: "I remember when our daughter was 4 and I explained that Winnie the Pooh's cute little pink, gender-confused friend Piglet? He's where bacon comes from." colleague: "!!!" me: "Yeah. I know my Critter well. She did pause a few minutes to feel bad for poor Piglet. But in the end, she decided she could live with it. She really likes her bacon."
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Let there be cider

You want to know how many apples are in 20 bushels? A bushel of apples equals an average of 42 pounds of apples. Each bushel will yield 2-3 gallons of cider. So 20 bushels == 840 pounds of apples, or 40-60 gallons of cider, or the equivalent of a bit less than half a 1967 Ford pickup truck's worth. It's also about 5 bushels more than a group of quasi-serious adults can press in an afternoon. This weekend started out crisp and beautiful - I had just gotten home from a business trip, and the air was that Gilmore Girls clear, orange leaves, idyllic Saturday morning at the farmer's market, leaving you craving a cup of cocoa and hot cranberry scones. Or, if you're a Grady, a second Diet Coke. There was a pumpkin patch involved. It was Very New England. We got these back to the house and dumped them out onto a giant tarp for a good spraying down, and set things up for Sunday's pressing. The weather started to look a little iffy, so I figured it was a good excuse to buy a tent, and ran to Wal-Mart. They have a few of those in Massachusetts it turns out. More than half of the people I run into there look like they just stepped off the Pigeon Forge express bus, complete with camouflage velour baseball caps emblazoned with tractor emblems or NASCAR t-shirts that look like they have missed more laundry days than they've seen. These are my people, and I love them. I'm pretty sure the Massachusetts state legislature has restricted them in a sort of 'natural preserve habitat' to Wal-Marts and select KFC franchises. Good thing about the tent. Sunday dawned gray and got worse. We were collecting and readying the apples in the cold, chill rain. Thankfully, we had called in the reinforcements. What had started out as "Hey honey, let's have a couple of friends over for a light-hearted afternoon" turned into "Hey honey, how many cars can fit into our driveway? What if they parked on the street across the way?" There were 15 couples and families that came by for some apple cider and some pulled pork in the end. (Pulled pork? Oh yes - because ever since Alice wrote "pork chops and applesauce" on the chalkboard for Mike, Carol and the kids, I've known that those things go well together. And the BBQ sauce recipe I have kicks ass - it's a Carolina-style sauce, so heavy on the vinegar. It received a fantastic number of compliments. I'm almost ashamed to tell you how easy it is, but I will later on down, so keep reading. Try it. You'll love it, and be surprised how easy it is to make.) To keep folks warm, I lit a fire outside and in. And soon enough, some of that fantastic cider was pouring out. If you're interested in trying this, here's a couple of things I learned. 1) Use apples that have been 'sweated' for a while. Which is how apple professionals refer to 'these apples are old and mushy'. You wouldn't want to eat these, but all that mush means 'easy to press'. (If you think about it, they're mushy because the cell walls have begun breaking down. All that crunchiness == pain to mash. Also, the sugars are being developed, which again equals sweeter juice, and later on, more alcohol if that's what you're going for). 2) Seriously, you're going to get a lot of juice out of the apples. You will be amazed. 3) Make sure people bring their jugs. No, really. Check at the door. And send them back to get theirs if they forgot them. We had people show up to a "bring your own jug" pressing party, not realizing that the intent was for them to, you know, actually bring a jug and take it home with them. People: I can't store this much cider. You either take it with you, or you drink your gallon before you leave my door. We ended up putting away 15 gallons for fermenting into hard cider. No, we don't know how to do this, but our neighbor who loaned us the press also loaned me a couple of books on this. With conflicting and sometimes obtuse instructions, and anecdotes of how the settlers made this stuff in rough, not-particularly hygienic barrels. I can barely follow a somewhat complicated recipe to make my favorite Chinese meal, let alone figure out which of the 47 varieties of cider in this book I should follow. So I picked 3 of my favorites and we're trying a little of each. I sorted each barrel to keep them organized and make sure I followed the recipes carefully. I then moved them to the basement and have set them up for a few months of healthy fermentation. Too bad I forgot to label them before I moved them to their final resting place, and will never be able to figure out which was which, if I want to recreate the recipes in the future. Hey, my Bride is the organized scientist in the family. I'm lucky if I find my way home at night most days. About halfway through the day, the rain turned white, and big fat flakes of snow(!) began to fall. Snow. In mid-October. We ended up with about a half-inch on the ground before the evening was complete. In hindsight, having that fire was brilliant. I've still got a few bushels left to press, and a few more gallons to put up. So yeah, there's definitely some work involved. Was it worth it? Well, on a purely financial stance, decent cider sells for at least $4/gallon at the market. I paid $3 a bushel, giving us more than 50 gallons of cider. Or roughly $1.15/gallon, if we just drank it all as sweet cider (i.e. no fermenting). There was some work involved in the setup, hauling, bottling and cleanup, but that was all done by us, and what else would I have been doing? Playing on my new xbox? But even without that, first sip of cold cider fresh from the press was incomparable. It was amazing. It was intoxicating in its flavor and light, sweet flavor, without any special treatments or anything done. If all you've had is stuff you buy at Kroger's or Safeway, you have never tasted anything like it. And even better, it gave us a great excuse to have friends and neighbors over for an afternoon that I hope will be memorable for everyone. So yeah. It was definitely worth it.

Here's that recipe I promised: Pulled Pork & Homemade Carolina-style BBQ Sauce Ingredients Dry Rub:
  • 3 tablespoons paprika
  • 1 tablespoon garlic powder
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon dry mustard
  • 3 tablespoons coarse salt
  • 1 (5 to 7 pound) pork roast, preferably shoulder or Boston butt
Cider Vinegar Barbecue Sauce:
  • 1 1/2 cups cider vinegar
  • 1 cup yellow or brown mustard
  • 1/2 cup ketchup
  • 1/3 cup packed brown sugar
  • 2 garlic cloves, smashed
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 or so teaspoons cayenne (depends on how you like it. If I'm coming over, please add more)
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Directions Mix paprika, garlic power, brown sugar, dry mustard, and salt together in a small bowl. Rub the spice blend all over the pork and marinate for as long as you have time for, as little as 1 hour or up to overnight, covered, in the refrigerator. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F. Put the pork in a roasting pan and bake for about 5-6 hours. Basically, roast the pork until it's falling apart and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part registers 170 degrees F. To make the barbecue sauce: combine the vinegar, mustard, ketchup, brown sugar, garlic, salt, cayenne, and black pepper in a saucepan over medium heat. Simmer gently, stirring, for 10 minutes until the sugar dissolves. Remove the pork roast from the oven and transfer to a large platter. Allow the meat to rest for about 10 minutes. While still warm, take 2 forks and "pull" the meat to form shreds. Using 2 forks, shred the pork by steadying the meat with 1 fork and pulling it away with the other. Put the shredded pork in a bowl. To serve, put some pork on a hamburger bun. Top with a healthy spoonful of sauce. Eat. Enjoy.
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Autumn at the farm - making cider & bacon

I've spent the last week or so infected with a bad case of New England Autumn. There's something about watching the leaves change up here, feeling the air turn suddenly crisp in the evening, and slushing through the first fallen leaves in the kind of golden light that saturates the air when your start to see your own breath in the evening. It just gets under your skin, and you want to participate in the change of seasons. You buy pumpkins. You unpack the jackets from the winter closet. You lay in a half a forest worth of firewood. You start glancing guiltily away from the rakes stacked in the garage. And if you're me, you bum a cider press off your neighbor.
We had spent the summer haunting one of our local 'pick-your-own' orchards, reveling in the sticky glory of more peaches than you can shake a stick at, fresh blueberries and nectarines warm from the sun. And then one evening, in a fit of England-nostalgia, I was watching an episode of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's 'Escape to River Cottage' on the web. (I really sort-of love this guy. Ok, so he's a little preachy at times about the whole industrialized society thing, but the challenge of doing things the hard way really appeals to the obstinate, crotchety old man in me). On this particular issue, he had joined up with some old men in the neighborhood to gather spare apples and press their own cider, which they then put up to ferment into hard cider. Hmm... Hey, honey... I've got this idea.... At first, my plan was to buy a press for my very own (early birthday present to me!). But after some deep reflection (and a "you want to spend what?!" conversation with my bride, who also doesn't understand why, for several hundred bucks, the presses are all hand-cranked. I tried to explain that there's no romance in a button. She is not convinced.), I settled on borrowing one someplace. This is New England. We're just down the road from where Johnny Appleseed was born. Surely there's one out there we can bum for a weekend. I made some calls, and scored the loan of a press from a neighbor and 20 bushels of apples for next to nothing from our orchard owning source. And we've invited over 10 or 12 friends and neighbors this weekend for a Bring-Your-Own-Jug pressing and pork bbq party. (I also have recently found a great recipe for a Carolina BBQ sauce - I'll post that later). I figure we'll put up about 20 gallons of cider for fermenting, and dole the rest out as sweet cider for the folks that show. Ah. BBQ. If you've read this blog for a while, you'll know that we have a love affair with the pig. Also, I bought an upright freezer off of Craig's List for forty bucks recently. You see where I'm going here. With my apples lined up, I started calling around to other farms to see if anyone was ready to sell some meat. My dairy-farming friend (who brought me the cow poop for my garden) answered the phone. He happened to have two pigs still-on-the-hoof that were ready for auction. Whoa, there, farmer-friend! Write my name on those pigs. I'm hankering for some bacon. What this translates into is arranging for two pigs to be taken to the slaughterhouse (you can only do this at a licensed place, and they book up months in advance during the fall, as I learned). Then arranging to pick up the dressed carcasses (no heads or hooves, please), and bringing them to a local butcher. He'll then cut it into the normal things you'd expect (pork chops, spare ribs, ham, butt roast) and some you wouldn't think about (shanks, belly, skin). [Note: this is the only animal I can think of that I get so excited about getting the skin for. Chicharones, baby.]. Then I have to cure/season/salt/hang things - the butcher promised to teach me to make pancetta. How awesome is that? This means we'll end up with about 2x 150lbs of pork - one set we'll keep, and the other set we'll sell off at cost to our friends. (I only have room for about 1 pig's worth of meat). My daughter and I are already gleefully planning an afternoon of chorizo & country sausage making. She's also coming down with me to pick up the carcasses and transport them as a part of her continuing "food doesn't come in styrofoam and plastic by default" education. I used to think summer was my favorite season because of the bounties of our garden, but I'm starting to think that Autumn is going to trump it. After all, my garden never turned out any bacon or alcoholic beverages (though if I grow more corn next year, you never know...)
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