Here at Refuge Farm, I got some things done that didn’t really need doing, and and started others that are going to be left unfinished by the time we get to beyond this chilly morning. The dawn was bright and the skies Virginia Blue as I swept up pine needles and surveyed the Fall debris that needs to be blown off the lawn and the gravel drive.
Do I have gas for the blower?
I think we scraped the first hard frost last night- it was crisp and chill and totally refreshing- though I am concerned what this portends in terms of another bawd-awful Polar Vortex winter.
My sole houseplant is happily inside- it was a casualty of the move to the farm- I left it out in the first hard frost a couple years ago and it was a blackened accusation of my negligence. I felt bad- it was an old friend and had been in all the four units and one farm where I have dwelt over the last dozen years. I had hoped that it would OK outside, but that clearly was a product of my disorganized thinking.
I approached the seeming plant corpse with care, didn’t dump it out, and instead moved it in and pruned off the dead stuff until a single green leaf remained. I thought the root system might still be intact, so I gave it dark mornings and bright afternoon sun in the west end of the great room, and it actually is coming back, though the process has been slow.
The plant and checking the mail are the two imperatives in getting down here- and both are necessary weekly functions. Like the distressing realization that I forgot to get more coffee beans as the afternoon lengthened, and the parallel jolt when I realized that it wasn’t almost the cocktail hour- the clocks had not been changed!
So off to town. I could have gone to the Big Box supermarket on the south end of town and saved a couple bucks, but coffee is one of those things I refuse to economize on. I was determined to get a bag or two of Dead Man’s Reach, the fine dark roast that really could raise the deceased. The Raven’s Nest coffee shop in town is where they sell it, and the place is a trip.
There are hipsters in Culpeper, I stood in line behind one, and in front of him there was a group of Ladies in their designer jeans, tall boots and leather coats, hair gathered back in ponytails for a little pre-holiday shopping on E. Davis street. Very seasonal, and it was very slow, as they ordered their low-fat soy lattes and other creations from the genial barrista.
The cakes and pies were tempting masses of sugar that I successfully resisted, though I am looking forward to a piece of rich pecan pie at least once this month.
The plant- I have no idea what kind it is- seems to be doing well. I really am a sentimental slob, I know, but it makes me happy.
That was quite the change from my savage attack on the nasty, evil, vines and bushes that were threatening to overwhelm the fence down in the lunging ring behind the east pasture. I had been meaning to get to the tangle all summer- a big branch had come down across the fence and trying to cut around it with the Turf Tiger almost got me impaled on the branches, and the voracious grasp of the vines and the startlingly rapid encroachment of the bushes and scrub trees needed attention. I traded one of the early football games Sunday afternoon for a frontal attack on the invaders, and was delighted with the improvement.
By the time I got the tools put away and cleaned up, I was famished. The wonderful pastries at Raven’s Nest got me antsy to try some seasonal baking, and you are well aware of my passion for cast-iron cooking. Coming back from town I stopped at the Minuteman Antiques Mall, a vast warehouse with hundreds of vendors (mostly unattended) supervised by a team of good ole gals.
I am always on the look-out for old cast-iron cookware. I read the other day that current technology is to pour the molten iron into sand molds, which lends the slightly dimpled surface of the pans. The old ones used hard molds that rendered a much smoother surface. It was a little more expensive, so I don’t mind finding old ones with a little surface rust I can fix and re-season to produce culinary magic.
I may get around to an appreciation of the popular myths of cast iron cooking one of these days- my pal in Utah send a provocative note about the topic yesterday- but I was looking around for something to go with stews and chili dishes as the temperatures plunge.
I wanted some carbs- craved them- after battling the encroaching underbrush. Melissa Clark of the New York Times came to the rescue. She is nuts over the “brown butter” aspect of the recipe- as I am. There is something nutty and good about it, and the food police have finally had to agree that there is absolutely nothing wrong with the dairy goodness. She uses maple syrup for the sweetness, but you can substitute Pond Hill Farms clover honey if you please. I prefer the product of Natasha’s three hive next door, but I get a special deal not available to regular consumers.
Get out that cast iron pan and get cooking! If you do not have one, let’s go look at the Minuteman Flea Market- it is the time of the year.
INGREDIENTS
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter (I like Challenge-brand)
½ cup maple syrup (or local honey)
2 ¼ cups buttermilk
3 large local eggs
1 ½ cups yellow cornmeal, fine or medium-coarse grind (Melissa prefers the fine for more taste, I like the slightly coarser for texture)
½ cup whole-wheat flour
½ cup all-purpose flour
1 ½ tablespoons baking powder
1 ½ teaspoons kosher or Baline Sea salt
½ teaspoon baking soda
PREPARATION
Heat oven to 375 degrees. On the stovetop, in a 11- or 12-inch skillet (ovenproof and preferably cast iron), melt the butter over medium heat. Cook, swirling pan to lightly coat sides and bottom, until the foam subsides and the butter turns a deep nut brown. (Watch carefully to see that it does not burn.)
Pour brown butter into a large bowl. (Do not wipe out the pan.) Whisk the maple syrup into the butter, then whisk in buttermilk. The mixture should be cool to the touch; if not, let cool before whisking in the eggs. Then whisk in the cornmeal, flours, baking powder, salt and baking soda.
If the skillet is no longer hot (cast iron retains heat longer than other metals), reheat it briefly on the stove for a few minutes. Scrape batter back into it. Bake until the top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted into it emerges clean, 30 to 40 minutes. Cool in the skillet for 10 minutes before slicing or you will be sorry.
We can re-engage on the passionate issue of whether to use soap in the clean-up of your cast iron pot in a future episode of The Pastoral Life. In the meantime, enjoy life in the country.
Copyright 2014 Vic Socotra; recipe Melissa Clark NY Times
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303