Ms. Glaze's Pommes d'Amour

Rhubarb & Celery Chutney

I get up in the morning, take a look at what's growing on the farm, collect rhubarb and celery, dig up some horseradish and potatoes, carry my loot to the kitchen, and create a meal around it. C'est la vie, hein? And as the summer is getting late, the days growing shorter, the temperature cooler my cravings are turning to comfort fare. 

Thursday, Pescadero Farmer's Market day, is our Echo Valley Farm lunch. Where the team gets a chance to gather around the table to refuel, rehydrate, and share a few stories before packing up the day's bounty and carting it into town. 

Wild Blackberry Pie

If this pie doesn't solicit lustful advances and unrequited love from your partner, then dump the good-for-nothing. Eat the rest. And toss clothing with saddle out the front door. Seriously, this is wild blackberry pie! 

Pesto!

What to do with a whole lotta basil? And a whole lotta walnuts? Pesto! Pesto! Pesto! Pesto! P-E-S-T-O!

Farmer's Kate & Jeff at Echo Valley bring in bushels of walnuts and we sit around the kitchen table cracking nuts, eating the 'bad' ones, and sipping coffee. It's a good breakfast. After 4 hours of smashing nuts with hammers and crushing with crab claws we barely have any walnut meat to show for our hard work. 

Otis the Pup & Chicken Processing

Time to do some weeding. This blog is seriously overgrown.

After two years of barely having enough time to respond to email let alone cleanse the ridiculous spam from my inbox, I'm back. Refreshed. Renewed. And seriously annoyed that I have let Viagra Online take over my blog.

Even my namesake website address, Msglaze.com, which I failed to renew has been poached. Why would anyone use my name for a Japanese travel site? And a Russian site has been copying my content and won't remove my plageurized posts. Ha-rumph! And double shaking fists!!!

Regardless. Today is a big day at Echo Valley Farm. And I have not slept.

My nightmares have been disturbing. I wake in the middle of the night paralyzed with fear and force myself to move again. My throat is tight and no scream could escape even if life depended on it. After what feels like an eternity of frozen hell, I crawl out of bed and lock up my sweet little cottage just in case there is anyone on this enchanted farm that feels like making my fears a reality.

6A.M. comes around much sooner than expected. Man, doesn't it always?