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The Fair: Mine and Theirs

I enjoy the Fair, but it is apparently not for the typical reason.

As a child, my parents would take me to the Fair each year. It was a wonderful afternoon of seeing most of our fellow farming friends, all of the animals and their ribbons, all of the exhibits in the hall, and eating all of a Polish dog with some of the trimmings. For me, the very best part of the day was the smells! There are a few animals for which their scents just make me happy: Cows, horses, and bunnies (there are others who like these smells too!). I can do without the scent produced by pigs and wet sheep.

As I grew up, I offered to take my youngest niece and nephews to the Fair. However, once we arrived at the Fair, we did not see eye to eye. Sure, my parents had taken me on a ride or two, but that wasn’t the thrill of it to me. My nephews didn’t have the Farm Bureau group meeting in their home a couple of times a year. They didn’t grow up knowing their milk man and milk tester. Sure, their mom had chickens and turkeys, and their dad occasionally had a cow or two, but it wasn’t the same farming community that my parents had as full-time Dairy Farmers. When we got to the Fair, they didn’t recognize the names of nearly all of the people showing animals. Don’t get me wrong, they knew many people there and their animals and they know about the rigors of farming, but the sight of these animals didn’t bring them the joy it brings to me. For them, it was the rides.

In the end, I’d make them look at least half of the animals as well as a few entries in the exhibit hall. Then I’d buy a night of rides. They were okay (I don’t care for rides that are not permanently installed and embedded into the ground). The one area we did all agree on was the tasty treats: elephant ears, snow cones, and Polish dogs.

I still enjoy the Fair. I just declare beforehand that I WILL be looking at ALL of the animals WITH the wee one I bring. Only then will I buy a large round of rides on those creepy, unattached monstrosities.

Moral of the Story: We are not all entertained by the same things. For some, it’s a barn filled with smelly creatures, and for others it’s the excitement of a roller coaster.

Dinner Bell

09 Sep

This is our old family dinner bell. When I was little, my mom would go into the backyard and ring it when meals were ready. We needed it because she couldn’t always find everyone to hunt them down to come in to eat. Also dinner time changed with the seasons. We ate a bit earlier in the winter and later in the summer – always depending on how many hours of sunshine in a day.

Over the years, the farm has not needed the bell anymore. Now, it is surrounded by a lilac bush and other trees and brush. You’d have to look to find it.

It is a relic on our farm, but one that still brings back happy memories of mealtime together with family, farm hands, friends, and good food. My friends were often smiling at first when my mom told them that everything on the table but the salt, pepper, and butter came from this farm. After a moment, they’d look at their meat and think of the cows in the dairy barn or the pigs in their pen and frown. One of us would look at that friend and say, “Yes, that too.”

This memory always brings a smile. I know how odd it can seem thinking of what you’re eating differently when it relates to what you just pet in the backyard. And yet, eating meat that way is far healthier than the single patty at McDonald’s which is a compilation of 100’s of cows. Plus, each cow or pig lived a fairly long life and was treated with the utmost respect, a healthy diet, and room to roam. Only 100 years ago, this is how we all ate meat. Don’t worry, I still respect my vegetarian and vegan friends.

I also remember eating potatoes from our own garden all year because they were stored in the well house, veggies from the garden and fruit from the trees because they were canned or frozen, and there is nothing like that home-canned tomato juice! Now my juices are flowing!

Moral of the Story: Farming – a way of life, or a life few will ever know again?

Not Even in the Meatloaf

08 Jan

I was raised on the family farm. This farm included dairy cows, pigs, apples, and peaches. What a wonderful place to learn of life’s sorrows and joys, hard work and festive play.

One such joy is the food on the farm. Well, it’s also a sorrow – because I don’t enjoy gardening nor preparing my own meat. Fortunately, mom took care of the gardening after I repeatedly pulled out all of the carrots while weeding. Also, dad sent the cows and pigs to a local meat processor so it came back in nice little packages for the freezer.

It was delightful to grow up on our own beef, pork, veggies, milk, peaches, and apples. All were deliciously prepared by my mom’s loving hands after being nurtured by my father and brother.

Eventually, as is common in Michigan, the deer in our area became too numerous, and hunting needed to be done. The deer were eating the crops – both for cow feed and my brothers fruit trees. In being thankful for the opportunity to hunt on our land, hunters would give us the gift of deer meet.

This is where the problem comes in. I was raised on home-grown cow. The meat is smooth and tasty. Not grainy like liver can be. To me deer meat is grainy. Also, it’s raised more on corn and wheat. Not as much hay. That makes it more gamey.

All others in our house enjoyed deer meat. Well, so far as I can tell, they like ALL meat. But this is about deer. So my mom tried to hide it.

Let’s just say that I can taste it and find the texture of it even in meatloaf that is 1/3 sausage, 1/3 cow burger, and 1/3 deer burger. I can detect the undesirable texture in well seasoned spaghetti or lasagna. I can identify it in potent chili. There’s no disguise that worked. To me, it’s not palatable.

If you like it, you’re always welcome to my portion. Please!

Morale of the Story: Sometimes you just can’t hide anything.

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Tag Archives: pig

The Fair: Mine and Theirs

Dinner Bell

Not Even in the Meatloaf

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