My brave Vermont quest to bring together food-love and mom-life.

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The Chickens, Part 2 8

Posted on July 25, 2010 by crankycheryl

There are no pictures or descriptions of animals actually being killed in this post.  But I’ll tell you the rest of what happened when we brought the chickens from Paula’s Williston farm to the slaughterhouse in Morrisville.

The boys and I got an early morning start, but arrived at Paula’s a little late, and the round-up was underway.  Paula’s daughter and her friend were shooing the chickens towards the adults, who were putting them 2 or 3 to a box and the boxes in the cars.

I was not good at herding chickens, but did show a quick aptitude for finding stinging nettles while trying to coax the birds in the right direction.  The boys were hanging out with Ventura the turkey (his day had not yet come), and the beautiful egg-laying birds, but kind of got into the spirit of laughing and getting these flappy big monsters into boxes.   The birds were 8 or 10 weeks old (the two batches were in their pasture together), and enormous, looking too heavy for their legs and kind of thumping from side to side as they ran.   As I was tucking them into their boxes all I could picture was me on the interstate with huge angry roosters flapping around my head, boys crying and trying to escape.

At last we were packed and off we went.  The birds occasionally made some inquisitive noises.  Z. said, “Don’t worry – nothing bad is going to happen little birdie,” to which E. replied, “They’re on their way to BE KILLED!  Something VERY bad is going to happen!”  His brother shushed him and told him not to say that because it would scare the birds and that wasn’t nice.

We arrived at Morrisville’s Winding Brook Farm, which I’d always been curious about as I see their meat on lots of local menus.   We pulled in to the small parking lot in front of their barn, and spotted the Ag. Dept.’s mobile slaughterhouse, a regulation-looking white trailer with the door open and a guy with a long rubber apron moving around inside.    The plan had been to drop off the birds, but instead we stayed to help, and before I knew it Paula was handing the birds in one at a time.

E. & Z. found a place they could bounce on a big piece of wood, and visited the guinea fowl and calves.  There was another family there, who we started talking to.  They were waiting for a goat they had purchased to be processed, and the little girl who was with them joined our group’s kids.  The girls gathered around Paula and petted and kissed each chicken as it was handed over.

While we were there, all sorts of people were coming and going.  Men in button-down shirts stopped in to talk for a minute; I assumed they were managers or buyers for local restaurant accounts.  Then another family came in, three men and a young-ish girl, speaking an Eastern European language.  One of the men pulled out a whetstone and long knife and started sharpening it.  I asked if they did their own butchering, maybe for halal meat, which they said that they did.  The knife-sharpener said they were there for a lamb, and asked if I could help by holding its legs since his friends refused to.   (I pondered whether I could, decided I probably would so as not to be a hypocrite of a meat-eater, but we left before it was an option.)

After the last bird had been handed in, we followed the kids around on a tour of the farm, cooing at goats and piglets and peacocks and all sorts of farm critters.


We left for a few hours, visiting some of my favorite Lamoille County food spots – Bee’s Knees, Applecheek Farm, and Elmore Roots Nursery (which was closed, but I spotted several things of interest, including native ginger).

Then it was back to the farm to pick up our processed birds.  The butchers gave Paula a big vacuum pack of necks, one of hearts, and then started handing us the vacu-packed chickens.  It cost $172 for butchering 35 birds, including extra ice to chill them to a safe temperature.  (They told us that the price goes up when the weather’s hot.)

And now here are 10 of them in the freezer.  I’ll let you know what I end up doing with them.

Eat Your Weeds! 2

Posted on June 19, 2009 by crankycheryl

This is a lamb’s quarters.  It’s a weed. june 003 You can eat it!

Some of its features:

  • Mild-flavored.
  • Extremely versatile.
  • Collects dirt really well – wash by immersing in a couple of washes of cold water.
  • Has stems that are particularly stick-ish – make sure to remove ’em.
  • Free!  It grows along sidewalks, as a weed in your garden or at your CSA farm (where they’ll thank you to pull it out and take it with you).  Be warned – once you get used to finding it and pulling it out, it’s hard to stop.

Here’s what I’ve done with the big bunch of them that have been around here this week:

Tossed lightly with olive oil, put on a baking sheet, and used as a bed for re-heating leftover roast lemon/saffron chicken with potatoes:

strawberries and chicken 001

For a great vegan brunch:  pan-cooked cubed red potatoes in lots of olive oil, kosher salt, and smoked paprika, them removed potatoes to a plate when very nearly cooked, and sauteed lambs quarters and crumbled tofu with an additional sprinkle of smoked paprika before adding the potatoes back in.

strawberries and chicken 009

For a light supper, made stracciatella:  steamed and pureed 2 big batches of the greens, then heated three quarts of strong vegetarian stock to a simmer.  Stirred in the lambs quarters, then beat 12 (yup) eggs until foamy, and poured them in a stream into the stock while stirring and swirling slowly.  Serve in bowls with grated cheese.

bread and lambsquarters 010

With the next batches I collect, I’m planning to steam and chop them and keep them in the freezer for quick and easy greens to try to stealth into brownies and the like this winter.

What are your favorite wild summer edibles?  What do you do with them?

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    Cheryl Herrick's brave Vermont quest to bring together food-love and mom-life. All original content (written, graphical, recipes or other), unless otherwise noted, is © and/or TM Cheryl Herrick. All rights reserved by the author. Want to reprint a recipe? Just get in touch and ask.

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