This is a courtesy public announcement from Rancho Relaxo. You are most welcomed.
It’s June! Doesn’t
that just make you want to shove a jumbuck into your tuckersack? This year is
.3846 percent completed!
Unseasonal
weather has been our lot for the previous few weeks but that is about to
change. It’s been very spring-like way until the last week of May. Usually, the
third week of May is when we break into the mid-‘90s in this region. That didn’t
happen this year so we have been rejoicing with temps in the low and mid ‘80’s
for highs and lows of about 55-60 in the mornings. We’ll hit the 100 degree
mark on Sunday and that’ll kick off our summer.
Rancho
Report: speaking of tuckersack….it was way past time to build a big ol’ fiesta
here at the rancho. How could I know that, during the month of May, Rancho
Relaxo would become the “Garden of Eatin”.
It’s been
awhile since we tucked some tacos into our taco tote around here. So, we had a huge
taco lunch the other day (lots of things happen around here at about that
time). We gathered all the goodies and condiments needed, fried and seasoned
the hamburger, fried our tortillas (corn and flour), headed to the table, and
set to gnashing our way to gastronomical bliss. That was a most satisfying
treat and one which will be repeated regularly if this old taco tucker can help
it. Fiesta numero uno: in the bag.
Of course,
this is California and there is not limit on the number of tacos or other
Mexican food you can eat. Sooooooo….a couple of days later, we happened upon a
large supply of Anaheim chili peppers (at about 25% of the original price! You
should follow us around if want great deals!). Now, just what are a couple of
old chicken chasers going to do with a large bag of Anaheim peppers? Anyone who
has spent even a short while in California knows where this conversation is
heading. What recipe do you suppose calls for big beautiful Anaheim chili
peppers? YUP! Chili Rellenos!
Due to our
somewhat demanding schedule, the chilis had to wait a few days for us to rescue
them from the fridge. When we did…boy howdy! With fiesta numero uno behind us,
it was fiesta numero dos time! To quote my old friend, Mr. Worf, “It is a good
day to fry”.
Since I had
never attempted to prepare homemade chili rellenos, the recipe book had to be
cracked. The recipe calls for eggs (of which, amazingly, we just happen to have
in abundance), flour, and oil in which to fry the things and was just like I
like it: short and sweet; no sweat on this go around.
Connie the
Canner grabbed the big “KitchenAid” mixer and whipped up the egg whites while
the Ol’ Ranger mixed up stuff, prepped the chilis by charring then stripping
off the skin, and lit up the range (range ...Ranger….heheheh. I crack myself
up). Dredge, dip, and fry: repeat; a pretty easy to deal with recipe, if you
ask me (have I mentioned that I’m convenience oriented?). In no time, we had a
plate full of tasty chili rellenos.
Concurrently,
we were finishing up cooking another batch of tacos and tostadas and, this
time, added the frijoles refritos (it’s not a fiesta until these mushy babies
are on the table).
As with the
previous fiesta, there was more gnashing of teeth and flinging of utensils. It
is a certainty that we consumed far too much and were stuffed. That meant only
one thing: siesta time! Naps are our friends!
But, wait
folks! There’s more! It is written that, “Man does not live by bread alone; he
has to have a pot of beans” (the “Book of Third Randy” as I recall). Maybe it
was the lingering thought of the tasty refried beans or such: not sure. But, a
few days later, it was “bean time” at the rancho. So, out came the smoked ham
hocks and the “Power Pressure Cooker” (the big 10 qt one). In a couple of
hours, Rancho Relaxo became “Ciudad de Frijole”.
No
self-respecting son of an Okie would wade into such a marvelous repast without
the equally marvelous side dishes of “fried taters and cornbread” (that would
be the southern version and not the Yankee version, don’tcha know). These two
side dishes from heaven and a chunk of raw onion were waiting at the table when
the beans were ladled up.
It is beyond
my ability to formulate words as to just how wonderful this feast was
(especially when your mouth is full….and you all know what our mommas said about that). The Ol’ Rancher was in full
waddle mode for a spell but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing that a
good nap couldn’t cure.
He also had
to bear the catastrophic gastric consequences of digesting those big beautiful
bowls of musical fruit but it was worth it. Bless his heart, he tries not to
pull off such a leguminous feast very often in consideration of dear Connie the
Canner (and lest she require him to camp in the barn for a week by himself).
She ate a burger and went on about her business leaving the Frijole Dude to
deal with the Kentucky windage. Fiesta numero tres completed and two fiestas to
go.
It wasn’t
long until the utterly gorgeous weather prompted (if not demanded) that we fire
up the Ol’ Smokie. We had recently reclaimed the patio for use by humans again
(instead of a staging area for home and garden uses and flooded with equipment,
tools, varmint poison, yard sale stuff, et. al.). After a lot of hard work,
Connie made the place beautiful and it was time to put it and the patio
furniture to good use.
All that was
required was to mine the freezer for a chunk of patiently waiting meat. That
didn’t take long for this hungry miner to do. In no time, a T-Bone steak and a
rack of “Farmer John’s” pork ribs was thawing on the counter.
The ribs
came from “Smart and Final” (which is a standard hoot for all the “Spooners”
out there). They were (hold on to your big blue bonnet, granny!) 50% off due to
the time out date! No reason to eat hamburger when you can do ribs for less, I
always say. The steak was a deal, too. It’s just that I don’t recall which deal
it was. Deals are our friends!
Ol’ Smokey
didn’t let us down. It wasn’t long until we had the gorgeous meat paired with
the gorgeous afternoon. And, it didn’t take all that long for the baked
potatoes and sides to show up, either. Man! Needless to say, we tore into our
feast with all available shovels and pick axes (well…I did. When it comes to
food, Connie really isn’t much into being a miner)! The food was so good that I
was tempted to just turn the ranch into a new restaurant: “The Steer and Sty”.
Sorta has a nice ring to it, eh? Fiesta numero quatro is a done deal.
At the end
of each month, our church has big ol’ potluck. This time, one of our ladies is
moving out of state and had requested that someone bring cornbread and beans. It
didn’t take the bean dude long to volunteer for that gig! Glad to oblige!
I whipped
out the “Power Pressure Cooker” again and replicated the previous pot of beans
and ham hocks but added some bacon to boot. Connie baked up the luscious
cornbread. When you add all of the other main dishes and sides at the potluck,
you ended up with a genuine food fest from which no one could possibly walk
away hungry. Fiesta numero cinco wrapped up.
Chickenin’
Report (or: Tales of Chicken Wallow Hollow): when you deal with chickens, you
just never know. The other day (you remember the one), you know who forgot to
keep the coop door open so the chickens could come home to roost. Some of the
hens needed to be kept in the coop so they could continue to do their part in
the production of eggs and help carry the freight around here. So, when the old
ranchers came home from church, things got…interesting.
All was well
until Connie the Canner reminded me that I hadn’t locked up the hen house yet.
That was at about ten minutes to midnight: *SIGH* number one. That’s not a big
deal since I merely have to trot out to the coop to shut and lock the door. Oh,
but that would just be too easy and completely without adventure, now wouldn’t
it?
Guess what greeted
ol’ unsuspecting me when I, clad in shorts and no shirt (hey. It’s too warm to
bother with such things) sauntered out to conduct my simple chore? There were
chickens parked everywhere around the coop. Oh, great. Because the door wasn’t
open, all of the other hens had to find a place to wait until we got there. *SIGH* number two.
Somewhere in
about the middle of this operation, and while getting ready to step across the
threshold of the coop, something warm….really warm, and something
smooshy….really smooshy, and something runny….really runny plopped onto my
right shoulder and started to slide down my back. My
lightning-fast mind knew what had happened but it took it another couple of
seconds to figure out why it had happened. Looking up, when what before my two
non-bloodshot-but-tired eyes should appear but a stupid chicken’s head and its big
feathery rear. Not sure that “Bullseye Ran” has a ring to it. Reckon I'll pay attention next time.
Anyway, the coop
has about an 18” extension at the top which sticks out….right above the door. One
of our ladies found that to be a place of refuge for the night. Swell.
I’ve been a
happy camper; I’ve been an unhappy camper; there’s not much to be said about
being a crappy camper. BIG *SIGH* number three.
The Ol’
Rancher truly hates sad notes. But, he can’t get around this one. This is
probably the last “Chickening Report” for a goodly while. Two 125 pound
Mastiffs slaughtered almost fifty of our chickens today. That included our
three roosters and some of the smaller bantams and such. One of them actually
tore apart one of our cages (inside the coop) and killed the young birds in
there. It was rather a shock to pull into the back yard and see dead chickens
all over the place.
Animal
Control was called and the officer is coming from Dinuba (65 miles from here) but is waiting for a vet
to put down a horse that was hit by a car. One of the offending dogs was still
in the back yard as of about 8:30PM. The other was seen a couple of hours ago
trotting off with a bunch of feathers in its mouth.
Frankly, it
would have been rather easy to just kill the offenders and I would have been well
within the law and my rights to do so. My Ruger .22 rifle was at hand. But, that
just didn’t seem to be a reasonable recourse for me. At least not for a bunch
of dead chickens that can be replaced. The dogs are someone’s friends and
probably their protectors (would you do a face off with a pair of Mastiffs? Not
moi!). The rifle was only there to protect my little princess pooch in case
they wanted to whip on her.
Thankfully,
they didn’t do that. Because the yard birds were out, she was on her cable. Had
the big dogs decided to be enemies, she would have had no chance at all of
survival because she couldn’t run. That’s the other reason she’s off the cable
at night; there are too many critters around here and I want her to have a
fighting chance.
We’re going
to rest awhile and cease from chicken sitting seeing that we haven’t had a real day off in more than two years. After
that, we’ll see where we want to go with the Rancho Relaxo Egg gig. Most likely
we’ll start out with a few hens and go from there.
I’m tired, a
bit sad, and am running long on the writing. So, it’s a wrap for now.
