After all that work in the garden on Friday, we came inside just in time to enjoy the THIRD meal we got from that Easter Ham. First there was the ham itself. Then there was the Ham and Great Northern (white) bean soup. (Which I didn't photograph because I left it on the stove after we ate it and burned the crap out of the bottom of it...)
But I was still able to scrape up enough good soup to make this:
Ribolitta in the Style of Siena came straight out of our Mediterranean Clay Pot Cooking book. It's a recipe that requires three-day-old minestrone. We didn't have minestrone, but we did have that three-day old ham and bean thing, half a loaf of my rustic bread getting hard on the counter and a red onion, so why not?
Not bad for leftovers.
(No. The kids didn't eat it.) (Except Liza.)
We woke up the next morning (already sore and barely able to move) and proceeded to spend the entire weekend happily elbow-deep in chicken shit. And I truly mean HAPPILY. Joel had the kids pulling dandelions all afternoon while the two of us sat in the mud listening to The Dead Kennedy's. Then Steve Miller Band. Then Vivaldi. Then, finally, Kei$ha. Our neighbors likely think we're schizophrenic.
Anyway, here's where we left off on Friday:
By the end of the weekend, all three chickens were following us around eating worms right out of our hands. Which reminds me that we should probably get around to naming them something other than Red One, Gray One and The Other One.
When the sun went down and our backs went out, we celebrated our progress by dousing yet ANOTHER thing in flammable liquid and setting it on fire.
I made crepes for breakfast this morning and accidentally came across her recipe for GATEAU DE CREPES A LA NORMANDE [Mound of crepes with apples, Flambe!]. I didn't MEAN TO go making a cake after working in the yard all day, but I just happened to have everything we needed for it (2 pounds of apples, cookies to crush, whiskey instead of brandy...) so I threw it together after Joel and Liza used the last of the ham-and-bean-soup-turned-ribollita to make Pasta Fagioli. (That's FOUR - count them FOUR - DINNERS out of a single Easter ham!)
The cake was the perfect ending to a perfect weekend. I didn't leave the farm for more than two days and it was still one of the best weekends of my life.