Sunday night came and went without me having thought about my weekly Monday morning blog post.
It is not that I don’t think I am doing nothing blog-worthy: quite to the contrary, my life has been chock full of topics. It has just been such that photographing them has been getting in the way. (Photos of the child’s piano recital this weekend? Check. Farm/blog stuff of things like mucking out a barn? Uncheck.)
I will leave you with a mental image instead today. My brother came to stay this weekend and he and I sat grinning rather foolishly at each other across the table on Friday night. The reason for our grins? The meal we were eating.
Two weeks prior, he had come up to help with generalized farm tasks. He doesn’t mind the mundane nature of shelling beans or corn, thankfully; I put him on dent corn detail. You twist the dried kernels from the cob into a bowl, then you toss the kernels into the breezy air and catch them back in the bowl. This separates the nasty bits from the kernels themselves. It’s fun, at least for a while.
So, Friday night, I took a couple of scoops of that cleaned corn and ground it, then cooked it (polenta if you’re fancy, cornmeal mush if you’re not) and added fresh chevre at the table; we topped it with some mushrooms in broth (chanterelles and chicken-of-the-woods, sauteed with shallots and finished with kombucha vinegar; magnifique) with a steaming bowl of cooked greens on one side, a large bowl salad on the other…it was good. Great, even. And simple, hand-made fare.