It’s so great to be back home at Old Stone Well Farm, just in time to enjoy autumn’s arrival. And what better way to cozy up to a new season than with a delicious recipe I discovered — one that I make using unusual ingredient.
Come. Pull up a chair. Get cozy. Join me as I see God’s provision right in my little shabby garden. Click on the video below.
And never miss a visit at Old Stone Well Farm, subscribe to this growing YouTube channel, and share with your friends. There’s always room in my old kitchen for more!
And here’s the recipe I mention in the video. Let me know if you make it and what you think of it!
Long Winter Green Pumpkin Pie
(As featured in the Little House Cookbook)
Four pound unripe green pumpkin
1 cup brown sugar
1 pinch each of ground nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon
1/3 cup apple cider vinegar (or you can substitute hard cider or apple cider)
1 teaspoon butter
Pie Crust (You can make your own or cheat like I do…using premade pie crust. I have yet to master the art of a flaky crust.)
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup vegetable shorting
1 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons cold water
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Peel the green pumpkin, cut it in half and the quarters.
Cut pumpkin quarters into pieces that resemble apple slices to measure 5 cups and place in a large bowl. Add to that, the sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, apple cider vinegar and butter. Stir.
Pour pumpkin mixture into a prepared pie crust, add the top crust, crimp edges and brush with egg wash. I have also seen recipes where cook the pumpkin mixture on the stove for about ten minutes. That might ensure the pumpkin slices will be tender.
Bake at 45-50 minutes or until the pie crust is golden brown.
You can order the Little House cookbook here on Amazon,
I am making hay while the sun shines. Well, more like burning last year’s palm branches outdoors to make ashes for Ash Wednesday, March 2, before a foot of snow falls down on me here at Old Stone Well Farm as the weather forecasters are predicting. So I am enjoying the sun and preparing for next week as we enter into Lent. As I do, I invite you to join me in not just burning the palms, but thinking more deeply how you will enter into this holy season.
Happy Thanksgiving! It’s a busy day here at Old Stone Well Farm, and I invite you to come and join me as I get the fire going to make the pies in the Dutch oven, boil the Christmas pudding and melt the beeswax for more Advent candles.
And I will share with you a recent discovery about my black-and-white chicken. Hint: She is a perfect fit for living here at this 18th century home. For now, I want to take time to thank you all for your support with this ministry.
I have some plans for it in the new year, but I need your support. So share with friends and like on YouTube! And now, let’s get cooking.
Today is a special day at Old Stone Well Farm. Not only is it candle making day, as I make my beeswax candles for the upcoming Advent season, which begins here on Nov. 15 as I love observing Celtic Advent, but it is my ordination anniversary.
Fourteen years ago on Nov. 11 I was ordained as a minister of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church. As I make my candles, I reflect on the light of Christ that I have been called to in this world.
Watch the video because there is also a special gift I would love to share with you.
While I might not have a huge open hearth to cook over in my 18th-century home, it hasn’t stopped me from dabbling in the art of primitive cooking. I’ve always been a believer that if you dream it — and begin living into the dream — that whatever you envision will come true.
And so, with the absence of an indoor hearth to cook over — and much to my husband’s chagrin — I have been purchasing the tools I need for that dream to materialize someday.
The Dutch ovens are piling up in the kitchen, as are the various sized copper pots to hang from an iron rod. I have the iron spoons, spatulas, forks and ladles, all with long arms to prevent me from getting too close to the flames, hanging near my non-operational fireplace. I’ve also added a slew of 18th-century cookbooks to my reading list. I’m enjoying learning just what a hoe cake is and how delicious it sounds to wash down a piece of cornbread with some cherry bounce or to serve some syllabub — a Colonial whipped cream concoction enhanced with a good amount of sherry — rather than pie for dessert.
For now, any primitive cooking is done outside over the fire pit. Perhaps that is a good thing, as a fire blazing amid centuries-old wood and crumbling mortar is probably not ideal.
For long as I can remember, I have been fascinated with cooking over a flame. There’s just something comforting about gathering around a hearth filled with the smells of food bubbling, broiling and baking over glowing embers. Two years ago, I stepped back in time, entering a village of 18th century homes to master the art of open-hearth cooking. For three nights, I lived without electricity and running water. I even slept on a rope bed that was topped with a mattress filled with straw.
Just a little bit of trivia here. The old saying, “sleep tight” comes from those rope beds as every night, before retiring, if you didn’t want to sleep on a sagging pile of blankets, you would have to tighten the ropes. “Sleep tight” was often followed with “and don’t let the bed bugs bite.” Did I mention my “mattress” was filled with hay? Luckily, there were no bugs biting me.
So for three days I lived in another time. It was heaven on earth! There was another “early living skills” class going on in the printer’s shop the same time my cooking class was being held. Someone in that group had a fiddle. One night, I came out of the hot kitchen and sat on the cool stone step and listened to the sounds of music and laughter filling the air. Dusk descended and slowly the houses began coming to life with just the peaceful glow of candles and fires that were being lit within. I closed my eyes and smiled. This was how I wanted to live. I vowed when I came back to the 21st century, I would fill my days with more candlelight and homecooked meals over a fire.
That vow, though, quickly got broken as the demands of modern living tugged at me. Electric light filled my nights along with blue light from computers and handheld devices. And home cooked meals were replaced with grab and go cuisine.
Today, though, I have renewed my vow to live in the way that truly brings me joy. Today, I share with you my new Sabbath tradition. (They say sharing what you want to commit to is a good way of keeping that commitment as someone will hold you accountable…and so, who out there is going to hold me accountable?)
Rather than having a traditional Sunday dinner, which has also fallen by the wayside for so many families, Mondays will be my 18th-century cooking day. This will be my day to turn off the computers, get the fires outside going and begin making a meal. That is one thing that struck me during my cooking class: The amount of time and energy it took just to prepare one meal. After breakfast was eaten, we didn’t have time to sit around. There was more wood needed to get the bread oven the right temperature if we would to have a meat pie for supper that night. And then there was one dinner in which we didn’t eat till 9 p.m. as the chicken in the metal reflector oven in front of the flames was taking longer than we had anticipated. And then there was the day we burnt the tops of all eight pies … but that is another story.
And so, it is still Monday morning on this the first day of my 18-century cooking Sabbath time. The chicken is roasting nicely. The fresh collard and mustard greens have been picked from the garden and are now simmering down with bacon drippings. Next on the list is to make the spoonbread sprinkled with freshly grated nutmeg and to be cooked over the fire. The fire is being a bit finicky as some of my wood is damp from last night’s storm. But I will make it work. And if I am inspired, I might make a cobbler with the abundance of rhubarb I have.
Well, I would love to share more, but I have a fire to tend to. But I am curious to hear from you. How do you observe the much-needed Sabbath rest God invites us into? And, if not observed on Sunday, what day have you carved out to step back, rest and recharged your Spirit? (If your Sabbath involves cooking, send recipes my way!)