The turkey will have travelled half a mile up the road from Clint's place. The ham will be our own, although it did take a detour via Stevensons and Marcus the butcher. Brussels sprouts, carrots and potatoes will come from the garden.
I can't promise that a lot of my pudding and desert ingredients won't have covered a mile or two before they hit the kitchen island but not the eggs. If the hens don't take fear of the snow we should get enough eggs for cakes.
Shame we can't grow coffee, chocolate and wine.
3 comments:
Christmas Eve is just arriving here - and I wanted to wish you & Bert and all your loved ones a very Merry Christmas.
I am terrifically envious of anyone who is as self-sustaining as are you guys. When we were really the farmboyz, that is how we lived. The cellar full of onions all winter and other rooms hung with garlic and dried peppers and herbs from our gardens. In Manhattan, we all have extravagant kitchens, but nobody cooks anything let alone grows anything. In Florida no one cooks, no one eats, we just drink. Beer. And even that is not made locally. It is so unhealthy, but that is what the beach can do to your head.
I couldn't possibly let Bert see that or it'd be away with the kitchen garden and off to Florida!
Forgive me for not responding faster but for some reason the notification went to my spam folder! A conspiracy to silence you methinks.
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