What's for Dinner?

Ahhh.... that's the age old question. As a busy mom, I hear that question every afternoon-- at least once--but usually more like 10-15 times. My kids ask me what's for dinner in the car on the way home from school, again when we arrive at the house, and then every 5-10 minutes while I am actively cooking the aforementioned meal, regardless of the fact that they can see with their own two eyes what I have right there in front of me on the cutting board. Boy, are they persistent... or bad listeners... or creatures of habit... or all of the above.

But I can't really blame them for being so eager, because we all look forward to a delicious and hearty meal at the end of a long day.

So, I was driving home just the other day (to the rhythmic back-seat chant of "What's for dinner? What's for dinner?") when I realized how profoundly gardening has changed the way I think about food and plan my family's meals. Whereas I used to ask myself, "What's for dinner," I now begin that thought process with a different inquiry altogether:

"What's in the garden?" I ask myself as I head home. Meal planning is no longer about what I feel like. It's about what I have on hand, ready to go, in my own front yard.

Eating seasonally and locally is at once both wonderful and wonderfully challenging. When I say challenging, I don't mean in the sense of taking extra time or costing extra money. Case(s) in point:

People ask me all the time how I make time for my garden, and the truth of the matter is--yes, there is some upfront expense and effort required, especially twice a year at fall and spring planting times, but the minutes and hours returned to me at the other end of the growing season are completely worth it. That's when, instead of driving to the market to pick up some last minute items for dinner, I just take a few steps outside to the garden. And, since my raised beds are directly next to my driveway and outside the front door, I can even grab a weighty zucchini or ripe tomato as I park the car and head inside. Now that's fast food.

Financially, the expense of building the "farm" initially was somewhat daunting, but since then we've paid very little in terms of soil management (we crank out a lot of homemade compost now) and plants (seeds are cheap compared to the prices of store-bought produce). I can't even really say that our water bill has gone up, since the drip system that waters our garden already existed in the form of standard sprinkler heads watering an ugly and useless patch of greedy lawn. In fact, in the height of the summer months I can get our family of four fed (pretty darn well) on just our Pocket Square Farm produce and as little as $25 in groceries from Trader Joe's. Really. I have receipts to prove it!

What's so challenging about farm to fork eating, then? For me, I think the struggle is in separating oneself and one's family away from modern-day convenience food. Fast food has become completely entrenched as part of our daily lives... and why wouldn't it be when we're all so exhausted and crazed just trying to keep up with work, school, family, soccer schedules, swim lessons, homework, housework, etc. As I drive by In-n-Out Burger my car almost subconsciously swerves toward the drive-through's gravitational pull. I mean really... I could get In... and Out... and have my family fed for less than $20... and not have to do any dishes afterward? I am salivating as I type at the mere thought.

But, alas, I grip the wheel with all my might, pull my drooling tongue back into my mouth, and steer the car away from the temptation! Because this, I know, is waiting for me at home:

PSF Meals are Planned Around What's Ripe in the Garden

The kids and I hop out of the car, drop our bags in the entry, and head out to the garden to pick what's ripe and needs to be eaten. Even in the earliest days of summer, when my raised beds are really just beginning to crank out the veggies, we can still find enough to fill out a meal... every single day.

I realize when your kids ask you what's for dinner that "zucchini, green and gold bush beans, and strawberries" might not be the most obvious answer. In fact, those three foods, in and of themselves, are kind of a random modge-podge. But, most nights, we just go with what we have on hand. I saute the veggies in a little olive oil, steam some rice or warm a nice loaf of crusty bread, and slice the berries to serve on the side.

Start to finish (and I mean picking, washing, chopping, and cooking), this super sustainable meal is ready in 20 minutes flat.

Grilled or Sauteed Veggies are the Foundation of Family Dinners

Now, don't get me wrong. I do love a double double with grilled onions. I mean really... who doesn't? But next time your family asks "What's for dinner," I urge you NOT to think, "What do I want to eat?" but rather, "What's locally and seasonally available right now?" Then you'll realize that "What's for dinner?" is a different question altogether.

The answer may not be In-n-Out, but [cue jingle] that's what good ea-ting is... all about!

Bathing Beauties

Why did the chicken(s) cross the road?

To get to the day spa... duh!

Okay, well, it may not be a day spa EXACTLY, but our gals sure do love to pamper themselves in [what else?] a pile of dirt in the corner of one of my raised beds. Aside from devouring juicy bugs, dust bathing is their favorite pastime.

What? You didn't know that chickens take baths? Of course they do! Just not in the water. In fact, water and dampness is really not good for your hens. They always need their henhouse and bedding to be clean and dry, thus avoiding respiratory problems.

So how do our feathered friends clean up? They roll in the dirt. They fluff out their feathers. They puff and preen as dust particles sift deep into their plumage, all the way to their skin. They roll on their backs, spread their wings, and even stick their feet up into the air. Truly, chicken dust bathing is quite a spectacle if you've never witnessed it. See for yourself!

Ahhh! Nothing like dirt to make you feel your freshest.

The only things these So Cal chicks are missing are cucumber slices over their eyes!

Urban Homestead Hints

I've decided to add a new "genre" to my blog: urban homestead hints. This is where I'll post little nuggets of trivial information [which may or may not be helpful to the average gardener].

They may be wise. They may be wacky. They may even be worthless. Here we go!

Homestead Hint #1: Proper Egg-Collecting Attire

When collecting farm-fresh eggs, no matter the time of day, it's often advisable to wear specially selected clothing. Feel free to forego the muck boots.

In fact, on Easter Sunday I found myself giggling at the paradox of me, in my knee-skimming dress and gold Franco Sarto platform heels, tip-toeing through the [chicken poop-smattered] yard to gather eggs.

Do other urban farm girls struggle with this issue?

Can farm work and fashion coexist? Hmm......

On the other hand, Mason would advise you that it's best to hit the dress-up basket prior to venturing out to the chicken coop. After all, a felt moustache and vintage cowboy hat definitely lend credibility--and flair--to the urban homesteading scene!

So next time you go to gather eggs (or come to visit mine)... don a little something special! The chickens--and you--will be happy you did!

Butterfly Birthday

Today is my birthday. Yep, I'm turning 29 again.

I usually don't buy myself a birthday gift. But this year, my husband was out of town spending the weekend with his mom (also her birthday), and I was left home alone with just Camille. This meant I had some time on my hands.

And because I also just got my layoff notice rescinded at the last minute, I had some cash burning a hole in my pocket. Yeah!

So I decided to spend some of that extra time and money doing something that makes me truly happy: gardening, of course. I planned, purchased, and planted the butterfly garden I've been wanting for years. And I justified it by calling it my birthday gift to myself!

Armed with plant lists for butterfly gardens from Monarch Watch and and Las Pilitas Nursery, I took Armstrong Garden Center by storm. With the help of my new friend and Armstrong employee, Martín, I filled my truck bed full of California natives and butterfly-attracting plant species. Enough to fill a 4' x 30' raised bed I had sitting empty and lifeless.

Among the plants I included are a few different types of milkweed, butterfly bushes, shasta daisies, cosmos, and numerous other nectar flowers. I planted them fairly closely together, but with some breathing room to allow the perennials to grow in both height and width. As I set the seedlings out in the yard, awaiting planting, it was amazing to see countless butterflies flutter-by, pausing on the colorful blooms.

"They already found the flowers, Momma!" Camille exclaimed proudly.

Even more so than the butterflies, we've enjoyed the antics of the flying, fleeting hummingbirds now frequenting our yard, slipping their long and slender beaks into the nectar flowers while they hover, motionless, in mid air. One sat still long enough for me to snap a quick shot.

I have one empty raised bed left in the backyard to fill, and I'm looking forward to adding a few more milkweed plants along with coneflowers, sunflowers, and verbena. Then we'll be able to certify and register our Monarch Waystation!

My gift may have been for the butterflies, but it was a happy, happy birthday to me!

Fried Egg Throwdown

Okay, I may not be Bobby Flay in the kitchen, but since our gals have been laying for awhile, it's time for our first official Pocket Square Farm THROWDOWN!

"How exactly are free-range, farm-fresh eggs different than those you buy in the store?" you may wonder.

Well, ponder no more, because today's blog will answer just that.

First, on the top, the defending champion of scrambles of quiches of the modern day kitchen: store bought eggs. We're not talking farmer's market, here. Think bigger: Ralph's, Von's, or Albertson's, for example. These bad boys are large and in charge. In fact, these are the cheapest extra large white eggs I could find.

Next, down below, we have the underdog(s): the proud bounty of Lillian, Penelope, Serafina, and Esther--the lovely ladies of Pocket Square Farm. They may squawk. They definitely poop A LOT. But darn, do they lay pretty little eggs... if I do say so myself!

Let the THROWDOWN begin!

First, Mason cracks open the store-bought eggs.

Mason is an experienced egg-cracker with a gentle hand, but the store-bought variety still ran all over the pan. They are thin, watery, and light yellow in color. The yolks lay relatively flat in the bottom of the pan--sad, flimsy, lifeless.

Camille took her crack at the farm-fresh eggs. Despite being a novice chef, her three-year-old fingers were able to break open the thick shells and drop the PSF eggs into the frying pan... without any yolks tearing or running.

The yolks are darkly colored, closer to orange than yellow. They seem to stand at attention in the dish, while the whites maintain a firm oval shape. The consistency of the raw eggs is incredibly thick.

A little salt and pepper, and it's time to turn on the heat!

Here are the store-bought extra large white eggs...

... compared to our PSF "homegrown" eggs.

I realize it may be a bit unethical to serve as farmer, cook, and judge in this so-called competition. Regardless, after taste testing both sunny-side-up servings, I officially declare the winners to be...

...Pocket Square Farm Eggs, of course!

Like those other guys ever stood a chance.

Thick enough to cut with a knife, and rich and creamy like custard, these eggs are really something else. We can't wait to try them in pancake batter and baked goods!

With the eggs in our happy tummies and the shells in the compost bin, I declare this throwdown a triumph for urban chicken-rearers everywhere!

Diggin' Mother's Day

I can unabashedly admit that one of my favorite days of the year is Mother's Day. This is the one day I generally refuse to do anything even remotely productive. At the very least, I shirk my usual responsibilities, deferring instead to my [extremely capable] hubby.

Kids need to get dressed?

Your turn, honey.

Time for breakfast?

Ask Dad what he's cooking.

Can't find your missing shoe?

Oh well. Go barefoot.

I figure I'm entitled to such lackadaisical behavior 1/365th of the year. Reveling in this kind of passive protest is really just a brief anecdote to my normal, everyday rush. After all, most days I feel like I'm sprinting through life at break-neck speeds; I might as well take a measly 24 hours to halt and relish the beauty of doing... well... nothing.

It's not that I desire to be spoiled monetarily on Mother's Day... not at all. I don't ask for lavish gifts or fancy outings. Reservations at an expensive restaurant are the last thing on my mind. In fact, my formula for a perfect Mother's Day goes something like this:

(cup of coffee + a good book + comfy chair tucked in a sunny spot) - (whining kids + constant interruptions + sibling rivalry) = one happy mommy

a favorite outdoor reading locale

Now, if you can work a little gardening into this equation, my level of joy increases exponentially! And because my husband recognizes this about me, he and the children gave me the PERFECT Mother's Day gift this year: some fruitful additions to Pocket Square Farm.

My family planted two apple trees in the front yard; a fuji and a pink lady. The pink lady is already bearing fruit. We planted them very close together, and as they grow we will prune the inside branches and allow the outer branches to grow in an open basket arrangement. In the end, the two varieties of trees will take the shape of one larger tree, with the added advantage of cross pollination.

My boys used two wheel barrels full of freshly finished, homemade compost to plant these trees. The compost shone warmly in the sun, and it smelled sweet as can be. It was so rewarding NOT to have to buy plastic bags full of compost made elsewhere and shipped to Long Beach. This is what sustainability is all about: Yesterday's rotten apple peels are nourishing tomorrow's apples, all within our small urban plot.

In the back, on the same side of the yard, they planted two orange trees for me: a valencia for juicing and a navel for eating. I'm guessing it will take a few years for these to really be productive, but it will be worth the wait. In the meantime, we look forward to the bright, wafting scent of orange blossoms dancing in the breeze.

Because our blueberry patch was looking a little "underwhelmed" with only two bushes in the designated raised bed, we added two more blueberry bushes for good measure. I realize that these plants may seem to be crowded, but I generally go by a "plant as many plants as you possibly can in the space you have" mentality, so I'm really not worried. If they get too big in the future, I can just prune back the inner branches similar to the apple trees. As for now, we're enjoying handfuls of fresh blueberries once or twice a week. Our mouths are watering looking forward to homemade blueberry muffins at the height of berry season.

In the end, I got just what I wanted: some time with my family in the garden and a few undisturbed minutes to myself to enjoy life's simple pleasures. Ahhhhhhh.

But enough daydreaming.

Mother's Day is over and the kids are screaming my name--gotta run!

Totally Egg-static!

When we first brought home our chicks in the beginning of December, we promised our kids they would have fresh eggs by Easter.

But as the weeks passed, and still no eggs, we began to get nervous. "How many days until Easter?" they inquired repeatedly. We could see the little wheels turning in their minds. Mason and Camille may have been eagerly anticipating a visit from a large white rabbit carrying chocolates, but they were even more excited about the prospect of our first farm-fresh egg.

What would I do if our chickens didn't deliver? I contemplated buying brown eggs at the market and slipping them into the empty nesting boxes on Easter morning. After all, parents have gone to further lengths to keep their children's innocent little hearts from being broken!

Fortunately, fate (or chicken puberty, as you may call it) stepped in just in the nick of time. A few days before Easter, as I was feeding our gals, I peeked into the nesting box... just in case.

Lo and behold, I spied our first egg. It rested, tiny and brown, right in the middle of one of our two nesting boxes. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. After a few seconds of shocked speechlessness, I screamed. Loudly.

My family came running, probably expecting the worst from the volume of my high-pitched wailing. "What's wrong? What is it?" they begged.

After lifting the children up to peer at our "delivery," we snapped a few pictures, lifted it out gently, and passed it around. The kids took turns holding it, ever so carefully, looks of awe and wonder on their faces. I was so glad I hadn't resorted to "faking" it!

Mason took a turn holding the egg first...

...followed by his sister, of course.

The brown egg looks large in their hands, but was actually quite small in comparison to these white, store-bought eggs.

After five months of chicken-rearing, coop building, and daily hen care, I'm reminded of the credit card commercials:

Baby chicks $20

Chick supplies $50

Grit and mash $100

Coop materials $400

Our first egg: PRICELESS!