Grilled Cobb Salad with Asparagus and Prosciutto

This recipe is adapted from one that appeared in Sunset Magazine in May 2017.  The original can be found on myrecipes.com or you can try this version with jammy grilled eggs.

6 servings

Salad without Dressing has 391 calories per serving
Dressing has about 107 calories for two tablespoons


Dressing ingredients:

• 1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 2 1/2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
• 3/4 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• 1/4 teaspoon salt (optional)
• 1/4 teaspoon ground pepper 
• 1 garlic clove, roughly chopped or pressed
• 2 tablespoons green onion leaves or chives
• 2 tablespoons Italian parsley

Salad ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• ¼ teaspoon of salt
• ¼ teaspoon of pepper
• 3 bunches green onions
• 2 pounds asparagus
• 2 heads butter lettuce
• 6 large eggs (older eggs will peel more easily)
• 5 ounces prosciutto
• 2 avocados
• 5 ounces Gorgonzola crumbles

Preparing the dressing:

• Finely chop the green onion leaves and parsley in a food processor. Add the remaining dressing ingredients and process until blended. 
• Set aside at room temperature.

Preparing the salad ingredients:

• Place one tablespoon of olive oil and ¼ teaspoon of salt and ¼ teaspoon of pepper in a large plastic bag or container.
• Rinse and trim the green onions and place them in the bag.
• Trim the asparagus and add it to the bag.
• Toss the onions and asparagus in the oil mixture to coat.
• Slice the avocados into eighths or bite size pieces as you prefer.
• To save time at the grill, lay out the prosciutto slices on baking trays so they do not stick together.
• Separate the butter lettuce and wash. Then lay out the leaves on the bottom of a large platter.

Grilling the salad ingredients:
(You may want to grill the eggs while you are preparing the other ingredients for the salad in order to save time.)

• Place a grilling tray on your grill and heat the grill to 450. The allow to cool to 350 degrees.
• Once heated, place the asparagus and green onions on the grilling tray. Close your grill cover and bake for 2-4 minutes to soften slightly. 
• Turn the vegetables and lay the prosciutto and eggs over the vegetables. Close your grill cover.
• Cook for ten minutes at 350, checking occasionally. The asparagus and green onions are done when soft and slightly braised.  The prosciutto should be brown.  When ready, these can be removed from the grill and set aside in a foil wrapper to keep them warm.
• Slightly jammy eggs will take ten minutes, but if you want a harder yolk leave them in for an extra four minutes. Plunge the eggs in cold water after grilling.

Putting it all together:

• Arrange the asparagus and onions on top of the lettuce bed. 
• Add the prosciutto and avocado.
• Peel the eggs and add slices to the salad.
• Sprinkle with Gorgonzola. 
• Serve the dressing on the side.

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Doorstep Delivery

One of our neighbors has some mobility problems making it a big hassle for them to pick up the morning paper at the end of the drive. They requested that the delivery person bring it to the front steps. For years our carrier could be seen around 3:00 a.m. tossing our paper at the edge of our property then driving at break neck speeds down the neighbors' driveway and back before disappearing down the road in under two minutes.

When a new carrier took over, the doorstep delivery stopped, and a number of phone calls to the newspaper went unheeded. Day after day our neighbor's newspaper would wait in the snow until one of them could manage the trip down to the end of the drive.

Always thoughtful, Salt began picking up their newspaper and walking it to their doorstep. He had to walk to the end of our drive to pick up our paper anyway and walking the driveway is about the only leisure time we have.

My neighbor had recently prepaid for some eggs this weekend. Usually, she stops by late in the day, but I thought to save her the trip and deliver the eggs with the paper. When I told Salt that I would walk the newspaper over with the eggs, he said, "You should take the bike like I did yesterday. I delivered it like a real paperboy."

I had misgivings about the idea. "I haven't been on a bike in years," I said. "I don't think I want my first time on a bike to be with eggs in a basket."

We may not have a basket on any of the bikes, because he said, "Who needs a basket?"

"You want me to try doing it with just one hand?" This sounded like an even worse idea given the fact I am so out of practice.

"You need a hand to throw anyway." He explained.

"You want me to throw the eggs too?" It took me a moment to figure out he was joking. We had a nice chuckle about it.

Needless to say the eggs and paper were safely delivered on foot.

#farmdiva

Watermelon Agua Fresca -- Country Style

Step One: Cut a watermelon into slices and separate from the rind. Set aside the rind.

Step Two: Puree the watermelon pieces and strain the puree.

Step Three: Pour the watermelon juice into a glass of ice and cut with water or soda, to taste.

Step Four: Pick a spring of mint, for garnish.

Step Five: Toss the rinds to the chickens.

Step Six: Put your feet up and enjoy the chicken mayhem in the yard while sipping a cool drink.

Follow the Farm Diva on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/PonderosaPlains/

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Homestead Tourists

At Home in the Spring

It seems like just yesterday we were taking down the Christmas tree for kindling and placing orders from seed catalogs.  Then I got sick and struggled through a very snowy spring to put in the garden before we left for vacation.  There were a million things to do before vacation and being flat on my back or snowed in did not help. There were seedlings to nurture and plant, beds to prepare, repairs to make and an irrigation system to reset. In a flurry of activity, we managed to get everything ready the night before we hopped on a plane to get away from it all.  

It was a busy spring indeed, and a vacation was well deserved. So where does a diva farmer and her dashing handyman go for vacation?  Of course, we chose a homestead in Alaska. Before I go much further I need to explain that “homestead” has a specific legal meaning and then there is a more colloquial sense of a self-sustaining farm. I am referring to the latter.

View from the Homestead

While I don't know how tourists find a homestead to play at sustainable living for a week in Alaska,  I just visit my family and add in some hiking and horseback riding*. 

Yes, I have family in Alaska; and yes, that is a fantastic conversation starter at cocktail parties. I often stand around sipping pear martinis telling droll stories about the amazing things people do without wireless internet access. As you know I am not and have never been a self-sufficient frontierswoman despite my familial link to the quintessential pioneer experience, so much of my life was spent hotfooting it away from such foolishness.  I come by my ineptitude at all farm related activities honestly.  The rural communities of my youth were by far more civilized than Alaska. Even though I was frequently at my grand parents’ farm growing up, I considered myself a visitor, proprio.

Now that I am by far more impressed by sustainable living than I was at sixteen, I am quite keen to go somewhere out of cell phone range and dig around in a garden.  Fortunately, my step-mother, a proper homesteader, lets me express my new found zeal by watering her plants between excursions.  I would honestly have been content to spend the whole vacation tending her garden and fishing had I not been intent on giving Salt his first real Alaskan experience.  

We hiked, we watched birds, we rode horses, and we drove a four-wheeler on what we think was the guide's hunting trip.  We caught halibut and collected rocks.

My Halibut

Our rock collecting was certainly a great amusement to the Alaskans.  Being used to the Outside -- the Alaskan term for the lower 48 -- and all of its rules about not collecting rocks in parks or reservations we were continuously asking with trepid curiosity, "Can we take a rock?" At first the Alaskans wouldn't understand the question.  They would look across the vast expanse of rock beach, then back to our innocent faces, before it occurred to them that we were dead serious. They refrained from openly laughing at us, but the mirth was in their eyes as they explained that we could take as many rocks as we wanted.  I am sure that they are still slapping their knees over those tourists who paid to ship back two boxes of rocks.  Rocks! But the joke is on them, because we would have gladly paid good money for those rocks.

On one night of our vacation, my indomitable relatives gathered for a party.  Alaskans are a special kind of people, whom I won't pretend to know well enough to characterize here.  But they know they are different and they know how they are special.  If you want to get a real look behind the rhubarb thicket into their lives, I suggest a memoir written by my Aunt Joan called "Cow Woman of Akutan," about homesteading in the Aleutians in the 1960s.  (Understand there was no indoor plumbing.) Unlike many memoirs I have read, it doesn't bore the reader with navel gazing.  It's a real page turner with every chapter leaving the reader wondering, "What will happen next?"  Obviously she survived, which is one of the unifying traits of Alaskans, but I will not spoil the book further other than to say that indoor plumbing is much more common now.

Head of the Bay

Another highlight of our trip was horseback riding to the head of the bay.  We watch a lot of "Alaska the Last Frontier" here, because the subjects of this reality show live a few miles from my family.  On the television show they are always riding to the head of the bay to tend their cattle and having to swim the horses across the tidal rivers because someone neglected to check the tide charts.  We did both of these things.  Riding a swimming horse was not on my bucket list, but it should have been, because it was fun... for me, but not for the horse.

Ultimately, though we had to pack up our halibut and fly home to catch up on our own chores at home. Over a month later, we have not caught up on our chores... but then I somehow doubt we ever will. We need a vacation.

Places to Stay in Homer, Alaska:
Katchemak Bay Cabin on Airbnb
Glacier View Cabin on Airbnb

Things to Do:
Trails End Horse Adventure --(907) 235-6393
Alaska Adventure 4-Wheeler Tour -- (907) 235-6393 (Read the signs. Don't touch the dog.)
Rainbow Tours -- (Ferry to Seldovia, wildlife tour, and halibut fishing.)
Grewynk Glacier Hiking Trails -- You'll need to book a water taxi round trip, so try Mako's Water Taxi.

Read Before You Go:
Cow Woman of Akutan by Joan Brown Dodd on Amazon

The Easter Blues

A typical Easter up on the Palmer Divide includes snow. It's difficult to believe that a week ago the grass was green, the trees were starting to bud and I was closing up the chicken coop at night without even bothering to don a jacket.  That was the day before the blizzard dumped 18 inches of snow on us. The subsequent four days of overcast and snow have finally given way to the sun, which is why I bundled up and headed out to the paddocks to dig a path for the chickens.

I looked great, by the way, wearing my fancy galoshes, my burgundy barn coat and my new brown felt slouch hat. Admittedly, I can still be seen in the yard wearing some highly unfashionable get-ups that result from a single mindedness to get to work that makes me all too absent minded about my appearance.  On those days I appear as a diminutive, firebrand hauling my cumbersome wheelbarrow to and fro with great determination, while dressed as a wild eyed bohemian. Most likely my attire is what I pulled out of the laundry that morning so I wouldn't get my good clothes dirty.  Often, I realize half way through the morning that I really should do Salt the favor of reminding him that I am still the fashionable sophisticate he married.

Fashion aside, I need not have bundled up this morning, despite the fact it was 29 degrees out as I chipped away at the densely frozen snow. The plastic snow shovel wouldn't cut the icy pack, so I cut small blocks with a garden spade and pulled up blocks that would have been excellent material for an igloo.  This was a hot and sweaty job laboring in the sun.  I took frequent breaks to catch my breath, enjoying the sparkling glint of the eastern sun reflecting off of the crystalline lake that is a pasture in warmer weather. The ponderosas were still tufted with snow, and the sky was bright blue and cloudless.  The crisp air smelled faintly of mesquite, which is how I knew that Salt had put a brisket on the smoker. 

After freeing the chickens and airing out their coop, I headed inside to reflect a little on the day and, obviously, to blog.  Salt, who could make a profession of reflection if he chose to publish his writing, had already concluded the sitting silently portion of his contemplation time. He had moved on to practicing the harmonica. And so, my appreciation of life continues as he plays the blues with the dogs sleeping nearby and watches the temperature of his brisket.  It feels a little like Easter in a roadhouse, which has its charm.

So here is wishing you all a happy Easter. We are having a day most worthy of celebrating with gratitude: warm sun on our faces, cool breezes in the smoke scented mountain air, dogs at our feet, dinner and family on the way and music all around. Happy Easter!

Small Successes for the Diva Dog

This morning while I was making the bed, Calicocoa -- my diva-dog-in-training-- lumbered into the room and upon seeing me she sat down to wait. An expectant look was on her happy face.  I continued arranging the bedspread and setting the pillows in place.  As I was putting the cover over the last pillow I looked at her and said brightly, “Good girl!” At that she leaped onto the bed and collapsed onto the cushioning comforter and pillow top.  Once settled she turned her face to me, waiting for more praise and petting, which she received. 

It was a gratifying moment to see how far kindness has brought our old girl. She didn't always know that she could trust herself, much less trust us.

I recall when she first came to us nearly two years ago, she would return to bed in the mornings to take a post-breakfast nap. Since I needed to make the bed, I would quietly, but firmly, say “Get down.” This simple, calm statement would inspire fear bordering on terror, as she scrambled off of the bed and out of the room with her tail between her legs. This wasn’t the only clue we had that our sweet Calicocoa had been brought up in an environment where commands accompanied violence. 

For weeks, when I told her to get down from the bed, I tried to say the words “Good dog” before she could rush out of earshot. Eventually she slowed down enough that I could pet her and praise her properly for getting down from the bed. Always, when I finished making the bed, I called her back so she could resume her rest. Finally, she began lingering long enough to watch what I was doing, until she could anticipate when she would be called back.

Finally, she knows that she isn’t bad for being on the bed.  She is good for waiting patiently until I am done with whatever it is I’m doing every day. Now that she understands the rules, she can succeed and it seems to make her happy.

A few months later we trained her to use the dog door.  She senses a trap in every puzzling training moment, so it was slow going for her.  It took a few days to teach her to use the door, but even longer to teach her that the door was there for her to use when she desired it, as opposed to when she was told to use it. Part of the delay was that it took me a few days to surmise that she was afraid to make an independent decision to use the door. Once I understood the problem, I began by showing her a treat, then walking outside with it and calling her.  If she came through the door she received the treat.  After a couple of days of this, I stopped calling her. I could see her big nose poking through the door as she tried to decide if it was worth the risk. Eventually, she took the plunge and received her treat. Three repetitions later, she knew the back garden was her domain. 

Calicocoa has made other improvements.  As much as she detests little Griffin she tolerates his proximity and even takes a defensive posture when “strangers” get too close to him. 

She is still wary of strangers herself, but quicker to accept their presence and with certain rare visitors she warms up enough to be friendly. Last summer she met my cousin and within minutes adopted the demeanor of a cuddly 60 pound lap dog. Most of the time, we have to send her to her special spot until she is calm enough to assess the situation rationally. We may be working on Calicocoa’s stranger issues until the old girl is gone, but her definition of a friend keeps growing broader as she feels safer and trusts herself more. All she needs is love and praise. All she wants is to succeed.

This Mean Old House

Our downstairs is completely torn apart.  The items in the storage closets have been housed in the garage since July.  The furnishings are stacked in the center of the room, covered in dusty plastic. The hallway and bedroom closets have no walls.  Long channels have been cut through the ceilings to expose the floor above. 

The reason for this catastrophe is the installation of the first ever central heating system in our house. We paid dearly for the privilege of nearly freezing last winter. The $400-$600 /monthly electric bills moved that gas furnace right to the very top of the list of renovations. The new furnace needed a place to be, so we had to expand the utility closet. Salt, being an architect, naturally decided this would be a great time to change the configuration of the downstairs guest rooms, because architects decide stuff like that with the same ease that I decide to buy a new comforter set for the bedroom.

In short, our basement is a construction zone, but let me tell you a little about the do-it-yourself experience from the perspective of a novice.

You know those reality shows where the homeowners help with demolition and finish the job in what the show purports to be the same day with enormous grins on their faces? The homeowners always start out energetically heaving sledgehammers and gleefully tossing large fixtures into a dumpster. They laugh as they kick down walls like they were made of papier maché. It looks like so much fun. 

Now that I’ve done a demolition, I know those happy-go-lucky, dust covered homeowners really spent the day in the craft services tent munching on muffins, while day laborers ripped the studs out and painstakingly removed every last remaining nail head.  Oh, I’m sure someone occasionally calls those homeowners away from the break table to get a shot of them helping the host lift something heavy, but there is no way they do a full day of demolition and have the energy to smile.

My first day of demolition went something like this. . .

8:30 – 9:30 a.m. – I remove the baseboards from the hallway and closets, scraping my hands on the floor with the pry bar. 

9:30 –9:40 a.m. – Find my gloves and begin tackling the trim around the doorways. 

9:40 – 9:50 a.m. – Push and pull with all my might on the trim around the doorways.  Try to think of ladylike sounding curse words and settle on growling in gibberish, until Salt comes to remove the trim from around the door.

9:50 – 9:55 a.m. – Try knocking out dry wall in the hallway. The sledgehammer bounces off of the wall several times.  Salt demonstrates how to find the sweet spot with one’s foot. 

9:55 – 10:00 a.m. – Miss the sweet spot.  Spend a few minutes trying to extract my foot from the wall. In the meantime, Salt finishes removing the door frames and begins removing drywall surrounding one of the closets.

10:00 -10:30 a.m. – Remove the dry wall from the hallway.  Begin tackling the nail heads from the studs that will be remaining in place. If we don’t have a craft services tent, we should at least have a production assistant bring us lattes.  Note for next demolition: hire a personal assistant (PA).

10:30 a.m. – 2:00 p.m.  – For three and one half seemingly endless and unrewarding hours, remove nails that were put in by an OCD contractor who was clearly afraid the linen closet would fall down if the dry wall was not secured every three inches by a nail. I have two blood blisters on my thumb from pinching it under the hammer and have hit myself in the face twice when stubborn nails gave way suddenly.

2:00 – 2:10 p.m. – Take a break from removing nails to take out a stud. Pound on the stud for a couple of minutes, then look helplessly at Salt. Salt rips it out with his bare hands. I explain, “I could have done that, but I have these blood blisters.”

2:10 – 2:15 p.m. – It’s time to assess the damage. I’ve been up and down the step ladder so many times, my thighs and gluts are screaming. My shoulders and neck are stiff and sore. My blood blisters need bandages. The joints in my hands are completely swollen and bruised from pounding against the pry bar. I can no longer close my right hand. We’re not even half way done with the demolition. House 10, Diva 2.

2:00 p.m. Time to tear out a stud.

2:15 – 3:30 p.m. – I decide the house is mean and endeavor to remove more nails just to show it who is boss.  Trip up and down the ladder a few more times.  Hit myself with the face with the hammer handle pretty hard this time.

3:30 p.m. – Officially exhausted to the point where I am more of a danger to myself than the house. Note for next demolition: hire day labor in addition to a PA.

4:00 p.m. – My last ounce of energy is spent lifting my arms to wash my hair. It’s time to lie on the sofa and die.  Salt is still downstairs working. Shouldn’t the camera crew be taking the victory shot of us high fiving each other in the rubble by now? I couldn’t lift my arms anyway. I dare the DIY Network to show up on my doorstep. I’d give them a piece of my mind. On second thought, I’m too tired for that too.

In summary, it took three weekends to finish the demolition, and I probably only did a quarter of the work. I’m not as fast or able as Salt.  Partly it was because I didn’t have a PA to raise my beer bottle in a toast to success at the end of the day, so I had to conserve my energy.  Mostly, it was because I try not to be in the same room with a sawzall for a variety of reasons related to me being klutzy menace to myself and others.

After the demolition, it took three more weeks for Salt to install the duct work, and six painful weeks for the furnace company to complete the installation of the furnace.  This last was only made possible by the heroic efforts of the company’s salesman, who spent weeknights at our house for three weeks.  Ultimately, the furnace was fired up just in time for the first cold snap of the season. We received our first gas bill after a full month of heating which was $80. .  and the entire house is warm.

Central heating is an amazing invention. It is now my second most appreciated household convenience, after running water. Someday, we’ll get the downstairs put back together again, hopefully before the satisfaction of being warm wears off.