Baker Baker

I have to admit I was a little scared to try the sourdough starter, which vaguely resembles a blob-monster from a Miyazaki film (and smells like one too, I imagine) – but these sourdough english muffins turned out sooooo yummy! At first I was going to make a batch for us and freeze the second batch, but hmm they somehow all got eaten…………..Thanks Kate for the starter AND the recipe! There is also a photo of a challah loaf I am in love with using for french toast and sweet strata (recipe via Macrina cookbook) and a random glamor shot of my breakfast setup ❤






Deep Green Sea

Those who know me can attest that I always dress poorly for inclement weather, or really any kind of weather except for 75 and sunny (which is why I live in the bay area, otherwise I would have died by now). Despite having lived in the Pac. NW for 4 years, I still forget how often it rains here! I have to admit that I’m not a huge fan of the drizzle, but damn it sure makes things grow!


Further adventures in cookery

You know life is good when your primary task is to make not one but two cakes, and have beautiful friends to share them with. Cake 1 = Ginger molasses cake with fresh ginger (served with lemon curd and rhubarb compote, dreamy but not pictured) Cake 2 = chocolate espresso cake with coffee icing, for Jules’ birthday. Plus crumb cake with fresh raspberries from the farm (thanks Kate for the recipe/bakery goddess blessing), plus greenery heart from our walk near a local cider orchard. xoxo -> Canada




Homemade jam and sweet-potato cinnamon rolls, plus my first full “English” breakfastImageImageImage

Rhubarb Muffins

Spring means rhubarb, and luckily spring lasts through July in coastal British Columbia. Rhubarb reminds me of my mom, who always served it simply as a compote or in a pie. I love how these unassuming stalks become so saturated and jewel-like when they cook down. I harvested these beauties from the garden and made rhubarb muffins – thanks Kate for the recipe.ImageImage


Sunup to Sundown

I realize it has been almost a year since I posted….my bad…..I will try to post at least once or twice a week while I am on the farm.

Here are some pictorial pieces of my current incarnation of summer self, working all the live-long day at Fairburn Farm on Vancouver Island, British Columbia. This farm is an incredible testament to family strength and hard work; plus did I mention they have one of the only North American water buffalo herds??

So far I have mostly been working in the garden, be sure to catch the before and after pics, see where there aren’t weeds anymore?? It feels good to be down in the dirt doing the REAL work of farming, not just the picturesque bits and we (myself included, for sure) imagine when we think about how lovely it would be to have that big red barn and flock of chickens, dogs, whatever. I’m glad to be contributing in this humble way, although I’ll be damned if my back isn’t killing me

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Jam Chronicles II

Further adventures of the jam kind

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Joanna Newsom: Jackrabbits

I was tired o’ being drunk
My face cracked like a joke
So I swung through here like a brace of jackrabbits
With their necks all broke

I stumbled at the door with my boot
And I knocked against the jamb
And I scrabbled at your chest like a mute
With my fists of ham

Trying to tell you that I am
Telling you I can
I can love you again
Love you again

I’m squinting towards the East
My faith makes me a dope
But you can take my hand in the darkness, darling
Like a length of rope

I shaped up overnight, you know
The day after she died
When I saw my heart, and I tell you, darling
It was open wide

What with telling you I am
Telling I can
I can love you again
Love you again

And it can have no bounds, you know
It can have no end
But you can take my hand in the darkness, darling
When you need a friend

And it can change in shape and form
But never change in size
Well, the water, it runs deep, my darling
Where it don’t run wide

The feather of a hawk was bound
Bound around my neck
A poultice made of fig
The eager little vultures peck

And the verse I read in jest
And Matthew spoke to me
Said, there’s a flame that moves like a low-down pest
That says, “you will be free”

Only tell me that I can
Tell me that I can
I can love you again
Love you again

Love you again (x9)
Love you

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A second trip to the Pacific Northwest; through the translucent water and chinks of light slipping around trees. Food for the soul as we head into the slumber-dark of autumn and winter.

July July!

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Another vacation come and gone, and I find I have missed the late-spring  jam season. Oh well, can’t complain about life after spending 10 days soaking in the verdant green of the pacific northwest.

Love: the new Bon Iver


Iʼm tearing up, acrost your face

move dust through the light
to fide your name
it’s something fane
this is not a place
not yet awake, I’m raised of make

still alive who you love
still alive who you love
still alive who you love

in a mother, out a moth
furling forests for the soft
gotta know been lead aloft
so I’m ridding all your stories
what I know, what it is, is pouring – wire it up!

you’re breaking your ground

These fleeting charms of earth

These fleeting charms of earth
Farewell, your springs of joy are dry

Right now I’m hooked on the Wailin’ Jennys (as well as phonics) and you should be too.

Spring is on our minds as it takes an extended stay in NorCal, pushing back what would normally be full-fledged summer with torrential rain and sober skies.

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