merry Christmas eve

We could say something profound and heartfelt this Christmas Eve, reminding you that a farmer has to "get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper, and then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of a school board."

We could remind you that a farmer "has arms strong enough to wrestle a calf and yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild; somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait lunch until his wife's done feeding visiting ladies, then tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon, and mean it." 

Winter Dairy Favorites: Iown Corn Chowder | dairy

I could get used to the life of a cow. Eat. Sleep. Chat with the gals next door. Eat some more. 

Who're we kidding? That's basically how I'm spending the last few weeks of pregnancy. 

But while the cows are busy loving on this chilly weather and their own super deluxe mix of feed, I'm going to encourage you to eat some dairy goodness of your own this winter. 

Because if you don't, I will, and I have to step on the scales at the doctor's office every week these days and that's just not going to be pretty. 

Let's not dwell on that for too long. 

The good news is that we're giving away the family recipe goods with this Iowa Corn Chowder. 

The really good news is that it's a beautiful conglomeration of the cow and pig worlds. We've got milk and cheese in the dairy corner, and my personal favorite--bacon--on the ropes. 

What You'll Need

3 cups H20

2 cups cubed potatoes (skin on)

1/2 cup carrots

1/2 cup celery

1/4 cup chopped onion

1 tsp. salt

1/4 tsp. pepper

1/4 cup butter

1/4 cup flour

2 cups milk

2 cups cheddar cheese, shredded

2 cans creamed corn (Remind me to tell you about the time I learned that creamed corn came in cans. Pretty sure I was about 25 years old.)

Combine the first seven ingredients in a large pot. Cook for about 10-12 minutes until the potatoes start to get poke-able with a fork. 

Poke-able. That's a word, right?

Let that concoction simmer while you melt 1/4 cup butter over medium heat and stir in 1/4 cup flour. Slowly add the milk and stir until it thickens up. 

Then add 2 cups of cheese and stir until it's nice and melty.

Revel in all that dairy goodness. 

Eat a Christmas cookie or two. Pour a glass of milk. You're allowed. St. Nick doesn't need them ALL. 

Then, when you're good and ready, add two cans of creamed corn and stir until it's heated through. 

Frankly, I could just eat this mixture right here, but that's not how the recipe goes. 

Sadly.

Add the mixture to the vegetables and stir until the chowder is warmed through. 

Sprinkle with bacon bits. (The hog farmers among us thank you.)

Voila! This thick and creamy soup has just the right amount of vegetables and dairy to fill you up, leave you wanting more, and warm your insides when you've been outside making sure the cows get what's best for them to eat too. 

It's a winter staple at our house, and we hope you make it one at yours too. Pair it with some corn bread and a veggie tray, and you've got Christmas Eve supper already in the bag. See how easy that was? 

Happy grazing! 

PS This recipe has been featured on Cheeserank's "50 Best Cheese Recipes from the 50 Best United States" so you know it's good. 

PPS Want some more holiday-related and dairy-friendly recipes? (Of course you do!) Check out some delicious recipes prepped by other dairy farmers. 

• Posset-ively Eggnog Is Ice Cream by Farmer Bright
• #DairyChristmas: Peanut Butter Balls by Messy Kennedy
• Winter Iowa Corn Chowder (as featured on Cheeserank) by Little House on the Dairy
• #DairyChristmas Farm Barbie
• The best Christmas cookies in the world by Truth or Dairy
• Recipes for a Dairy Christmas by Cow Spots and Tales
• #DairyChristmas: Cherry Mint Sugar Cookies by Kimmi's Dairyland
• Perfect for a Party – Cheddar Olive Bites by DairyCarrie
• Dairy Christmas Traditions by Knolltop Farm Wife
• #DairyChristmas: Love and Latkes by New Moon Dairy
• Family at the Table by The Deere Milkmaid
• French Onion Soup – Our Family Christmas Tradition by Eat Farm Love
• Dairy Delight by Spotted Cow Review
• Christmas Cookies and Holiday Hearts by My Barnyard View
• Italian Soup by So She Married A Farmer
• Christmas Tapioca Pudding by Guernsey Dairy Mama
• #DairyChristmas: Festive Parmesan Frico by Dairy Good Life

iowa corn chowder

I could get used to the life of a cow. Eat. Sleep. Chat with the gals next door. Eat some more. 

Who're we kidding? That was basically my life through college. 

"call the calves" contest

It doesn't matter how big or how little a child is, how much they love animals or if they're terrified of them. Every kiddo that visits the dairy, somewhere between the calves and the mamas, asks the question: "Do the cows have names?"

They do. 

It's just that their name is actually a number. 

And sometimes those numbers show up in church bulletins and cause quite a bit of confusion for farmers who can't remember if they're supposed to be looking up a hymn or remembering how many pounds of milk that cow gives.

#farmerproblems

But every now and then a pig or a cow comes along, with special markings or a unique personality, one that--if you'll pardon the expression--stands out from the herd, just begging to be named. 

pioneer woman's meatloaf and a cauliflower train wreck

I made it 29 long years without eating meatloaf. 

This was due in large part to my (a) dad's aversion to anything remotely resembling a casserole and (b) my aversion to any meat product bearing the word "loaf."

But then I cracked my Pioneer Woman cookbook and spotted meatloaf wrapped in . . . wait for it . . . bacon. 

And that's when it came to me: Meatloaf is really a beautiful sort of marriage! It combines my pork heritage with my husband's beef background. It's the perfect meal!

Ummm, maybe.

The good news is that it actually turned out. The beef was cooked, and my husband didn't get salmonella poisoning. 

The bad news is that the Pioneer Woman's cauliflower side dish was less than desirable. 

Ok, that was my fault. Not sure how a vegetable can train wreck that quickly. 

But trust me: It did. 

But cauliflower withstanding, no matter how glorious the bacon and beef combination, there's one fact no one, even die hard meatloaf lovers, can deny: Meatloaf, no matter what it's wrapped in, still looks, well, let's face it, kind of gross. 

This is due to the fact that (1) I am an amateur photographer, but mostly that (2) We are focusing on taste and not presentation. 

At least, that's the line I fed Chris.  

 The meatloaf was, admittedly, a success. 

Keeping the mess in the kitchen to a minimum was clearly not. 

But's that's ok. 

Because even if the meatloaf had been a disaster, there's a little pup who'd be glad to take care of it for me. 

He doesn't care if it looks gross. 

Heck, he'd probably eat the plate I'd serve it on. 

Ingredients

•  Meatloaf:
• 1 cup Whole Milk
• 6 slices White Bread
• 2 pounds Ground Beef
• 1 cup (heaping) Freshly Grated Parmesan Cheese
• 1/4 teaspoon Seasoned Salt
• 3/4 teaspoons Salt
•  Freshly Ground Black Pepper
• 1/3 cup Minced Flat-leaf Parsley
• 4 whole Eggs, Beaten
• 10 slices Thin/regular Bacon
•  Sauce:
• 1-1/2 cup Ketchup
• 1/3 cup Brown Sugar
• 1 teaspoon Dry Mustard
•  Tabasco To Taste (I used sriracha.)

Preparation Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Pour milk over the bread slices. Allow it to soak in for several minutes.

Place the ground beef, milk-soaked bread, Parmesan, seasoned salt, salt, black pepper, and parsley in a large mixing bowl. Pour in beaten eggs.

With clean hands, mix the ingredients until well combined. Form the mixture into a loaf shape on a broiler pan, which will allow the fat to drain. (Line the bottom of the pan with foil to avoid a big mess!)

Lay bacon slices over the top, tucking them underneath the meatloaf.

Make the sauce: add ketchup, brown sugar, mustard, and hot sauce in a mixing bowl. Stir together. Pour 1/3 of the mixture over the top of the bacon. Spread with a spoon.

Bake for 45 minutes, then pour another 1/3 of the sauce over the top. Bake for another 15 minutes. Slice and serve with remaining sauce.

an egg-cellent birthday (ok, that was a pretty bad yolk)

 Today is Chris' birthday. It's also the day he was baptized . . . and the day that the readings in church were all about Jesus' own Baptism.
Basically, today is a pretty big deal.

So although he claims to not be one for big hooplas, I threw him a mini-birthday party anyway. And it all focused on a single theme. 

Can you guess it?

Chickens! 

(If you guessed oranges, the color red, or eccentric dish ware, you're a close second.)

We had eggs (of course) wrapped in turkey (!) bacon, oatmeal with berries, English Muffin toast (courtesy Pastor and Janet Kumm) and fruit, all washed down with pomegranate plum juice. 

We talked about chickens and how Chris has always wanted to raise some of his own. We discussed whether he'd like to get the kind that lay eggs or the kind that go best fried on a salad with some hard-boiled eggs, bacon bits, and some honey mustard dressing. 

Then, since I raised chickens as a child and am pretty much a pro at . . . running away from them screaming. 

I mean, no. 

I mean, since I'm pretty much a pro at raising them myself, I got him a little something to kickstart his aspiring dreams of being both a dairy herd manager AND a chicken . . . um . . . flock manager?

A gift card to Murray McMurray hatchery in Iowa!

When my sisters and I were little, we would spend hours looking at the Murray McMurray catalog, reading about chickens like the Buff Laced Polish ("These very rare birds are a rich golden buff, each feather neatly laced with creamy white, and with slate blue shanks and toes. The flowing crests and sprightly carriage make them one of the most prized varieties anyone interested in beauty and usual poultry can own.")

We were never exactly sure what that meant, but the birds looked glamorous. (We were never much for practicality at that age either. Ok, or now.)

Working on the dishes after lunch, I started thinking about the fact that my grandpa had his own hatchery back in the day. I even have fond memories of taking care of tiny baby chicks when I was little girl. 

(Who am I kidding? My sister pushed me into wet chicken poo once. I stopped remembering everything after that.)

In keeping with the all-things-poultry theme, I had even donned a pretty chicken-and-egg apron, a gift from my dear friend Hannah who knows my style better than I do myself. 

That got me to thinking about more than just childhoods of raising chickens. I started pondering all the different dishes and linens I pulled out for Chris' birthday and why I love setting pretty tables. Each piece has meaning; they all come from friends or family that we love and care about. 

Our silverware is from our dear (hilarious) friends the Seifferleins, the placemats came from my BFF Jeni, the chicken mugs were a thrift store find from Mom and the chicken napkin rings were hers when she first got married, not to mention the paper bird Kel made me and the turkey candle holder from Chris' mom. 

And THAT got me to thinking about and being thankful for my St. Louis besties Kim Vieker and Pam Nielsen, who graced us with even more to add to the collection: Pyrex dishes! 

I spotted these beauties months ago in a thrift store in St. Louis but couldn't quite justify them with a wedding coming up. 

But those two, who made the trek all the way to Higginsville yesterday to drink tea, laugh, and gab, nabbed them for me and brought them along as the cheeriest housewarming gift a girl could ask to receive.  

And then I realized that as long as I'd totally detoured from chickens and had now moved on to dishes and aprons, I had to include a shot of just a few more. Aprons, that is. (Not chickens.) And of the vintage kind, of course.

I sorted through all my aprons (of which there are many, each with its own story) and pulled out the all the red ones. I love their color and spunk and quaintness.

The one on the top left is from Hannah in preparation for my move back to the country. The top right and bottom left are the same apron, handmade by my mom from a Dorr Feed Mill flour sack. (It's too special to use, but I love the Dorr logo.) And the bottom right is an apron hand-embroidered by my mom's grandma. 

And thinking on grandparents brought me back to my family, and to our faith, and to farming--all of which make us who we are. 

And they are what makes Chris who he is too. 

And that's why I love him. 

And why he deserved, if nothing else, a most egg-cellent birthday. 

home tour 2013

Since you all have asked so nicely {or basically threatened physical harm if I don't comply} to see what our little house on the dairy looks like, I present to you our . . . 

Home Tour 2013. 

Not to be confused with Home Tour 2014. That's for tomorrow. 

Just kidding. Maybe. I really do like to rearrange the furniture a lot. You never know.

This is our house in the summer when the skies are big and the cows are wishing it was 40 degrees instead of 90 and Chris is sweating to death working in the hot sun while I regale him with stories of how much I adore warm weather and actually wish it were hotter outside. 

He loves that.

He's never actually articulated it, but I'm confident he does. 

Actually, he's pretty much said the opposite. Things like, "It's so HOT" and "Cows do better in cooler weather." 

But I'm confident we're virtually on the same page. 

Honey?

HONEY?! 

Up first: our kitchen. 

Yes, there's Pyrex. 

No, that's not all of it. 

Yes, there are at least 10 more boxes of it downstairs. 

And just in case you're too polite to ask, I'm fully aware it's a problem. 

But I can stop any time I want to. 

It's different with me.

Our dining room consists of all things pig, cow, chicken, Dorr and Heins. 

Toss in a crucifix, and it's just how we like it. 

I myself am partial to old things, new things, shiny things, bright things, homemade things, store-bought things, cows, pigs, cheese, bacon . . . 

and seeing his cowboy boots. 

 Our dining room table looks cute, doesn't it?

{Humor me here, people. It's our first Christmas. I'm trying.}

We registered for FiestaWare, and we love it. 

We do not, however, love that Kellee sold all of hers. 

Let's have a moment of silence for all the dishes that could have been.

Sob.

We have a totes adorbs living room with a door containing a picture of Jesus that leads to nowhere. 

Actually, I just wanted to use the phrase "totes adorbs." 

The Internets tell me I can't use that after I turn 30, so I have to make good while I can. 

Chris found The Door to Nowhere in a house on a piece of his property, which is naturally why it's now in our living room. 

I'm sure you follow.

{I don't, but I'm hoping somebody here can.}

We also have what I would call, oh, a fabulous guest room, replete with turquoise, chevrons, old suitcases, and general awesomeness. 

{The awesomeness today consists of 42 piles of sheets left over from all our Christmas guests. You might want to wait a month or two to pay us a visit.}

 The Lutheran Witness magic happens here. 

All I need are two more matching banners and I could be a poster child for Duck Dynasty. 

HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY!

What I (don't at all) hate to admit is that there's a whole other wall filled with books. 

I think that's the reason Chris married me. 

Well, that and the fact that he said, "I'm only marrying you for your books." That was the other dead giveaway. 

But this right here?

This is the favorite part of my home: the man I share it with. 

So stop on by next time you're in Missouri. Don't even bother polishing up your boots. We don't mind. We'll just be glad to see you. 

a merry dairy Advent

One good thing about Advent: It's the time of year in which the Lord causes us to hold up, slow down, and just chill out while we wait for His return. 

First step: Hand model for Zinpro. Next step: Ruggedly handsome action shots for his very own cooking show. 

It's also the time of year that we bake cookies. 

Lots of cookies. 

With butter. 

Hey, we're dairy people after all. 

The only thing that could make those cookies better is a big topping of bacon bits. 

Basically a whole hog. 

The third best thing is if you lick the cookie batter off the mixer paddle while thinking your wife won't catch you. 

And the good stuff just doesn't stop!

There's pizzelles . . . made with butter. 

And apple-walnut-granola cookies . . . made with butter. 

And snickerdoodles . . . made with, well, I think you get the idea.  

And to top it off, my friends Sarah and Martha showed up to decorate sugar cookies that have, um, well, don't judge us. 

We have to support our industry. 

And to be fair, who can resist them?

Especially when Sarah, who made her first visit to a dairy farm, converted a horse cookie into . . . a Holstein! 

Or Holstein-ish. 

Umm, Holstein-esque? 

Speaking of Holsteins, neither rain nor sleet nor snow nor hail keeps a dairy farmer from making sure his cows are fed, even on snowy Sunday afternoons. 

Cows are very grateful for this. 

You can't see their gratitude, but we know it's there.  

While I was chillaxing nice and toasty in the cab, this guy was out cutting the net wrap off the bale. 

It's kind of like a magic trick. 

First he's here. 

Then he's there. 

The man's like a Flying Walenda walking a tightrope, I tell you! 

And while he did, the heifers were very patient. 

Just kidding. 

They were swarming him like a dairy farmer's wife making cookies with butter. 

Cows like water too, so while I delicately hop-skipped over the electric fence, my guy was already down at the water, hacking away at it like a lumberjack. 

(Also, if you scroll this super fast, you get your own little digital flip book.)

Ready. 

Set. 

Go.

HI--YAHH!

The victor gets the spoils, 

heaves it across the pond in a feat of strength,  

drops his wife off in his luxurious ride, 

and heads off to do the same thing for the next set of cows . . . 

while his wife, fixated on the next opportunity to indulge in butter, cookies, and milk freaks out at the sight of a coyote eyeing the cows. 

Yes, Advent has been very good to us indeed.