Deer: Accomplished!

Fuzzy got a deer on Saturday morning! A little button buck, bedded down in the snow. We hung it from the clothesline pole in the backyard and got to processing on Sunday morning (it was too warm to let it hang longer).

Processing was so interesting! I really love seeing how everything works, the different muscle groups and ligaments. I got totally into it, dividing the meat into chops and roasts and big piles for grinding and stews. Fuzzy ground meat with our fabulous KitchenAid meat grinder, a very cool little machine, then I weighed and packaged the meat into meal-sized portions swaddled in cling wrap and freezer paper. Now it's all labeled and packed into the basement freezer.

We set aside the tenderloin and marinated it overnight in a little Italian dressing. This evening, Fuzzy grilled the little slabs, and it was delicious! Tender and tasty!
I am so proud of us! And also grateful to the little buck. Thank you for the nourishment, little buck.

Cranktastic

Just a little update to let everyone know I'm cranky as hell. No particular reason, just generally dissatisfied with anything and everything I'm in contact with at the moment. I know, I'm a sweetheart. Fuzzy is a lucky man.
Bitchy? Check. Ungrateful? Check. Generally snarly? Double check.
I don't know if it's some seasonal shit or what, but I am deep in the funk.
Any suggestions to help me pull my head out of my ass before Fuzzy moves into the camper?

The photo is a darter (Rainbow? Not sure) we caught at a workshop last Spring. It is also how I feel right now. Put me back in the goddamn water!

Woodland Ungulates:1, Bipedals:0

So, it's the end of buck season, and no buck. That's ok. We still have till the 31st to get a doe, and you know what they say, "You can't eat antlers." Or maybe that's just what us buckless folk say.
Regardless, Fuzzy had a good time in the woods. He got to spend time with his brother and his friends and everyone came back unscathed (deer included, hehe).
In other news, well, there isn't any news. Things are ticking along at a fairly even keel here: work, home, eat, sleep, rinse, repeat. After such a gut-wrenching year, it's nice to have the routine back. I'm sure I'll be pulling my hair out by Spring, though. Time to start planning a road trip!

Deer Flesh!

So in a twist of events, my vegetarian husband has decided to take up hunting. He hunted regularly as a kid, but stopped in his 20's. He's out at the camp right now, preparing to wake up at 4 am and sit in the tree stand with his dad's .270 for the opening of rifle season.

And that's what I think it comes down to. Fuzzy's dad passed away a few months ago. It wasn't sudden or unexpected, but it was hard. And gearing up for hunting season has brought Fuzzy and his brother together and made them feel closer to their father, who loved anything even remotely related to the outdoors.

Fuzzy has decided that he will now eat venison, or any other meat we hunt or raise ourselves. A wonderful friend from Fayetteville has come into town, also for rifle season, and has promised to teach me how to "process" the deer. Is it weird that I'm actually excited to learn? Tomorrow I'm buying a vacuum sealer the meat grinder attachment for the KitchenAid mixer.

This should be interesting!

(Oh, and if anyone has any suggestions for cooking venison, now would be a good time to share them!)

Calling all Yellow Jackets

Fuzzy and I picked apples today at the orchard across the road from PineTop. It's been an incredible year for fruit, so our neighbors gave us free rein to pick as many as we could stand. We bought one of those little wire fruit picker baskets that fit on the end of a tent pole and picked about 20 lbs. in about 20 minutes.

So now what the hell am I going to do with 20 lbs. of apples? Applesauce, I guess. And I'll try canning some apple pie filling. Apple Jack? Maybe?


Regardless of what becomes of the apples, it was a day well spent, and a beautiful one at that.

New Arrivals

Meet the two newest members of the PineTop family:





This is Frida. Frida enjoys scratching our already destroyed furniture and blending in with the lint balls rolling around on our floor.











This is Tommy. Tommy enjoys batting at my legs and confusing our dog.





These guys are littermates. Frida will stay with us, but Tommy is our foster-child until my mom can take him in November. She has a weakness for marmalade kittens.

People underestimate the joy and hilarity that kittens can bring. These guys are seriously the light of my life right now (no offense, Fuzzy).

I am Weak

I always swore I'd never buy a new car. Too frivolous, too expensive, used is good enough for me.
Well . . .
I think a retraction is in order.
We bought a brand-spanking-new Honda Fit Sport and I am smitten.
More updates later, right now I'm feeling the urge to drive to Wisconsin!

Tomatoes, Anyone?

The tomato harvest is almost done for the year, and despite rampant late blight and near-criminal neglect, they have produced a shitload of fruit. The picture at right is a fraction of the tomatoes we need to dispose of. I canned a bunch, we made salsa, we're going to freeze some, and Fuzzy and I have both been taking bags to work and leaving them on coworkers' desks like abandoned kittens. Funny how much we look forward to the tomatoes coming in, then feel completely overwhelmed when they do.


We went to a big flea market last weekend and I bought these cool old trivets. This first one is from the Ancient Order of Foresters. I'm going to hang it on the wall (because I don't have enough random shit hanging on our walls, I blame my mom for hanging old rusty leg-traps and farm implements on our walls when I was a kid).




This one says, "Good Luck to All Who Use This Stand." Hey, I'll take my good luck where I can find it.








And I had to post this pic of Fuzzy and Allis because it's so fucking adorable. This is really an amazing and tolerant cat. We got her from a friend with two semi-feral children who pretty much terrorized the kittens. So Allis is pretty used to whatever kind of abuse you want to dish out. Good kitty, Allis, good kitty.

2008 Can Kiss My Grits

Sorry for the shameful lack of updating, but these past few months have royally sucked. Just lots of bad shit. Believe me, you don't really want to know. I am ready for this year to be over and hopeful that 2009 will not be quite as vicious.
So for the sake of breathing a little life back into the old blog, here are some pictures of positive things that have been happening:

I made a quilt out of our old work pants (terrible picture, I know, my camera does not enjoy the indoor photography).


I made jam out of plums from a few trees out at PineTop. This was my first foray into jam making and it turned out very well (if I do say so myself, and I do).



And finally, my new quilting project. The pattern is "Depression Block", which seems appropriate. I'm using all purples and grays, and I think it's turning out pretty well. Having a project like this going gives me something to do with myself in the evenings, besides, you know, cleaning house or something dumb like that.

Thanks to anyone who still checks in occasionally, despite my neglectful ways.

Trashy Food I Have Loved: Part I

It was ninety degrees today in northern West Virginia. And humid. Very humid. And it's supposed to be ninety five tomorrow. Melissa, I demand you take back this Louisiana weather. It is highly unnatural here in the hill country. All of the bearded men look extremely uncomfortable and none of the women are prepared for shorts.

But . . . the sultry weather is perfect for the first recipe in our Trashy Recipe series. This recipe is cool, refreshing, and tooth-achingly sweet. Mmmmm. Perfect for unseasonably warm early-June weather.

I copied this recipe onto an index card several years ago, I believe out of Fanny Flagg's Recipes from the Whistlestop Cafe. But I could be wrong. I often am.

So What exactly makes this recipe trashy? Well, the inclusion of a few key ingredients tipped the scales for me: sweetened condensed milk, frozen lemonade concentrate, and Cool Whip. I really don't need any more convincing.

Lemon Ice-Box Pie

-one pre-made graham cracker pie crust
-one 8 oz. box cream cheese (you can go for low fat here if you want to slightly lower the trash level), softened
-one 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk
-one 6 oz. can frozen lemonade concentrate, thawed
-one tub of Cool Whip

Beat the crap out your cream cheese till it's fluffy. This make take a few minutes, but patience will make a big difference in the final product. Once your cream cheese is fluffy as a little panda bear, gradually add the milk and lemonade concentrate. Once everything is well combined, fold in half of the tub of Cool Whip, then dump it all into the pie crust. At this point I like to stick it in the freezer for a few minutes to firm up. Relax, drink a beer, bleach your hair, whatever, then spread the remaining Cool Whip on the pie. Stick it in the fridge for a few hours and there you go. Easy, tasty, and above all, trashy.

Once Again, I Suck

I found this little guy crawling on my thumb after harvesting strawberries from the garden. I wonder how many of these I have eaten over time. I would be willing to bet that I have eaten more bugs and slugs, by weight, than red meat in my life. Weird.

So yeah, it's been a few months. What can I say? I promise to expose myself to the ridicule of the internet on a regular basis as penance.

Stay tuned for (not so) shocking announcements, a recipe series, and more news from the Mountain State.

West Virginia New Year

Fuzzy and I spent the last night of 2007 drinking champagne that's been sitting in our fridge for over two years now, watching movies, and eating Aldi pizza in a final fat gram blow-out before the start of our New Year diet. Today it's all black-eyed peas and brown rice. Well, that and the rest of the cheese-ball my fabulous mother-in-law made for us.

On Christmas Eve, Fuzzy and I attended a party thrown by his cousin. After a few crown-and-ginger-ales, this cousin asked Fuzzy if he'd like some fire crackers for New Years. Clearly our mental telepathy failed that night, because though I was beaming Fuzzy thoughts of missing appendages and our porch on fire, he said "Hell yeah!"

So at last night we stepped out into the front yard at 11:59, lit some Black Cats and stepped back. They were intensely loud in the night, but they were soon answered by gunshots throughout our neighborhood and echoing off the hills for miles around. Fuzzy had told me about the traditions of shooting guns into the air at the stroke of midnight, but we had always gone to town for New Year, so I'd never actually witnessed it. I'm not usually one for randomly discharging firearms, but I have to admit, it does feel damn festive.