The Farmstand is off to a warm and wonderful start with our Valentine’s celebration in full swing. We had a packed house on Thursday and Friday and again today. We have been working hard all week. Here is the menu with pictures.
Next course was a parsley and parsnip root soup with pickled apple and crispy duck confit. We forgot to snap a picture!
What great time we had. Thanks to all those who came to eat, and to the crew who picked especially for us in the winter fields. LUNCHES START UP FEBRUARY 28th! We will see you there.
As we prepare for this year’s Valentine’s Day Celebration, we build our prep lists which will guide us through the chaos. A crazy flurry of cooking and chopping and cleaning and discussing ends at 6:30 p.m. as the first guests show up at the Farmstand. Hopefully all of our preparations lead to a flawless romantic dinner. Thanks to all who plan to attend our celebration.
Here’s a bright Peacock Kale for the solstice! Today marks the official beginning of winter, but we’ve already had our first snow on Tuesday, and the river made a brief foray into the parking lot yesterday. There are plenty of gray, rainy days ahead, but we know we’re beginning the journey back toward more sunlight.
Pretty hands don’t exist in the kitchen. There are no manicures. No pampered skin, nor painted nails. Instead there are calluses and burns. A half-moon- shaped cut that slices through the nail-bed to the quick requiring a trip to the Emergency Room and three stitches put in with strong black thread. Jergens would be appalled.
Kitchen hands bear the marks of the trade. They know their way around a knife, move from left to right down the board and down the line. They reach into hot pans and hot ovens, retrieving baguettes without fireproof protection, prodding cuts of meat to test for doneness. A medium rare steak should feel like the web of muscle between the thumb and forefinger. Or like your plump lower lip. Full and filled with appeal.
The Gathering Together Farm kitchen crew has hands that speak of their lives. JC’s ring shines on his left hand as he preps onions for filling, dices veg for roasting, takes apart a pig for charcuterie. Ricky’s hands tell of late night music gigs, endless hours holding a guitar, a banjo, a spatula. Ana’s are feminine, but strong. They bear the pinch marks of the Hobart mixer, and the burns from hot oil that she uses to cook fresh potato donuts. Ben’s are made to make pasta: deft fingers creating classic shapes to impart texture from the old countries.