paula teen's green tomato chutney

Our garden wasn't much of a garden last year. The rain washed out half the stuff I planted and the leaves on most of the other plants were yellow from . . . you guessed it . . . too much rain.

We had a few tomatoes, some sad-looking corn, a lot of sweet potatoes, a handful of zucchini and about four cucumbers. 

And a lot of grass. 

As we said last summer, "It'll be better next year."

Riiiiight. 

So before the bugs got the tomatoes or the rain washed them away in yet another toad strangler, I whipped up a batch of Paula Deen's green tomato chutney. 

 

Because Missouri is the farthest South I've ever lived, I feel like green tomatoes should be a thing, but frying sort of terrifies me so this is the closest I get. 

Ok, so it wasn't close at all. 

This chutney pairs well with meat, which comes in handy because between our families raising cows and chickens and hogs, we're pretty much set in the meat department around here. 

You can also scoop it up on biscuits or crackers, and pour yourself a glass of wine for a little mid-afternoon snack or pre-supper appetizer. 

Or mid-morning snack, I guess, if it's a really rough day.

It also goes pretty dang well with squash or sweet potatoes, and we love us some sweet potatoes. My farmer usually grows enough to get us through the winter. Just pop a couple of those bad boys in the steamer while you make supper, slather on some chutney and pat your belly in satisfaction. 

Or you can pat your baby. Babies are usually cuter than bellies anyway. Although to be fair, baby bellies are even cuter than regular bellies. 

I'm betting this would even taste pretty good on grilled cheese. And I'm not just saying that because my husband's a dairy farmer. 

But seriously . . . who doesn't love grilled cheese? 

The days are getting longer. The weather will eventually get warmer. Gardeners will start to plan their gardens. And if you're one of them, add an extra tomato plant or two so you can nab the green tomatoes for this chutney. Your squash . . . and even your sandwiches . . . will thank you. 

of mice and tillers

It all started on Saturday afternoon when I was cleaning out our little chicken coop and a mouse/vole ran at me. One minute I was sweeping, and the next minute I was hopping around on my toes like a ballet dancer on point, stabbing at the critter with a broom.

I then did what all good millennials do: Text someone about it. 

So I wrote to my farmer: "A mouse just ran out of the grain bin. We're all going to die."

He said: "You want me to bring the turbo till up there?"

Me: "Probably. Or we may just have to burn the whole farm down."

good friday farming

Lent is good for farmers. It reminds us of what we already know to be true, what we see every day, what we witness throughout the seasons, that: "All people are like grass, and all their faithfulness is like the flowers of the field" (Is. 40:6).

they're alive

Gardening is not for those individuals who don't like angst and sweat. 

You spend days wondering if your carrots are going to take off or survive or die or get eaten by rabbits or trampled by dogs, and then, when they do grow, you spend days wondering why you thought it was a good idea to plant them in the first place, because now you're sitting outside on black dirt in the heat of July pulling weeds, when you could be buying carrots for 99 cents at the air-conditioned grocery store. 

Like I said, angst and sweat. 

starting spring planting inside

Earlier this week, it was 70 degrees here in Missouri. 

SEVENTY DEGREES. 

This is a big deal when you're a Northern girl who lived through Iowa and Wisconsin winters that had a tendency to still be going strong in May.