Foodie Friday: Festival Food Recipes: The Bibbed Wonder's Smash Burgers

The Bibbed Wonder frequently proves that he is not just the eye candy of our business. He has an ingenious idea to create and share recipes using ingredients from our food vendor friends attending our Fall At The Farm event on Saturday, October 19th, from 9 to 1. Of course, my wonder buns featured a burger for the first sharing. I call this recipe The Bibbed Wonder's Smash Burger. The ingredients for The Smash Burger are available from the following: burger: Chaganra Farm, bread: Lone Oak Farm, cheese: Pleasant Lane Farms but purchased at Lone Oak Farm, and The Bibbed Wonder's pasture-raised pigs provide the bacon.

This year, we are featuring more direct-sale farm products. I always encourage you to know your farmer and their practices, so this year, I am trying to provide an opportunity for you to meet the farmers in person at our event. The farm families we have invited are good people I am proud to support, most of whom I consider my friend. These individuals care for their animals with love, compassion, and attentiveness. The manner in which animals are treated is essential to me. Knowing that they lived their best life, were treated with respect and compassion for the duration of their life, and did not face a torturous, long, drawn-out end makes a world of difference to me. The quality of a small farm-raised harvest cannot be compared to anything you purchase at a grocery store. Knowing where the food my family consumes comes from, how it is treated, and how it is processed is priceless.

If you plan to attend our event, and I hope you do, I encourage you to bring a cooler with ice so you can experience the exceptional quality of small family farms' meats, fish, dairy products, and produce. Our friends are happy to share their practices, experience, and their why with anyone interested. They're also great people, so I encourage you to meet and support their small family farms. If we all chose to support local small family farms, we could do away with the cruel practices of massive corporate agri-business, large meat processing plants, and the sub-par products they produce. Know where your food comes from, dear reader.

Chaganra Farm is a small family farm located in Westmoreland County. We met Mike and Jill Little at the Ligonier Country Market and the Murrysville Market. Jill has the most contagious, boisterous laugh. You know how sometimes you meet someone and you immediately click with them? That is how we feel about Mike and Jill. The Littles raise beef and poultry in the hills of Westmoreland County. Mike and Jill provide us with our Thanksgiving turkey each year. There is no comparison between a frozen Butterball from the grocery store and a fresh turkey raised free range on a small farm. The Bibbed Wonder was not a fan of turkey until we experienced one raised by the Littles. Chaganra takes orders for their holiday turkeys in advance, and I would greatly encourage you to taste the difference. You won't be disappointed.

I have written in past blogs about our friends from Lone Oak Farm. I can't say enough good things about the Simpson family. They are the hardest-working, most industrious family I have enjoyed knowing. You can shop at their beautiful farm store throughout the year. However, the Simpsons are gracious enough to support our small farm events each year without fail. You can enjoy everything from fresh whole milk to fresh yogurt, butter, and ice cream from their farm's fresh milk. Lone Oak also offers impressive baked goods made from scratch and fresh in their in-store bakery. The Bean loves the cinnamon rolls from Lone Oak.

Eric drove around yesterday gathering ingredients for my Foodie Friday blog. He returned with fresh ground beef from Chaganra and cheese and bread from Lone Oak Farm. I returned from The Bean's appointment to my bib overall-wearing buddy, who was preparing dinner. The kitchen smelled amazing. There really isn't a set recipe for his Smash Burgers. He cooks a pound of ground beef over low heat and seasons it with salt and pepper. The burger is loose, and he disperses any large chunks. Once the burger is cooked, he adds approximately a cup of cubed cheese from Pleasant Lane Farm. He allows the cheese to melt "low and slow." While the burger is cooking, he fries a pound of bacon to crispness and drains it. After the burger and bacon are cooked, he slices the fresh bread from Lone Oak Farm, butters it on both sides and toasts it on a griddle. He then smashes the burger onto the bread, tops it with bacon, and adds the condiments of choice. I have my smash burger on a single piece of bread because I don't need the extra carbs. The burgers are great served with a simple side salad, and you can find the freshest ingredients from Lone Oak Farm. Jonie grows delicious spinach almost year-round.

I hope you have an opportunity to enjoy The Bibbed Wonder's Smash Burgers. They are simple and delicious, and they are divine when you utilize fresh ingredients from small local farms. If you plan to join us on Saturday, October 19th, from 9 to 1, I encourage you to bring a cooler and experience the wonders of eating fresh and local. On this overcast day, stay safe, be smart, enjoy fresh, local food, and keep washing your hands.

The End of the Season

Well, dear reader, this is the final week for the Ligonier Country Market. It is hard to believe we have another year in the books. I view the in-person market season with a mixture of appreciation, apprehension, gratitude, and exhaustion. If I am to be one hundred percent transparent, I will be relieved not to have to awaken at three in the morning on Saturdays. I have already set in place the expectation that the first Saturday of October will be a sleep-in Saturday: no alarms, no plans, no overnight guests, no to-do list, no driving anywhere, and no cooking. It has been decreed! My child must put her budding social life on hold for one weekend.

This Saturday, the Ligonier Country Market is celebrating Halloween. Vendors are encouraged to decorate their booths, wear costumes, and hand out candy for trick-or-treating. I would have created a Halloween soap if I had known about the Halloween theme a bit earlier. I am already planning for next Halloween. We ordered twenty-five pounds of candy from our supplier, but alas, it did not come in with the order. Now, we are THOSE PEOPLE—the people who give out crappy candy to trick-or-treaters. We bought bags of Tootsie Pops, Charms Pops, Tootsie Rolls, and Smarties—none of which I find acceptable or up to my treat-supplying standards.

You see, dear reader, I LOVE Halloween! I don't get caught up in the dark side of Halloween. I get caught up in the autumnal seasonal, pumpkins, apple cider, vintage decorations, dressing up as someone you are not for a few hours, walking friendly neighborhoods with people I adore, and free candy. Really, does it get any better? I take my duties as a treat giver quite seriously. I put together elaborate treats while living in my big old Victorian in Brookville. I give out full-size candy bars for the neighborhood hayride and trick-or-treat at the farm. I take great pride in giving great treats.

I am quite disappointed with my treats for the market trick-or-treat and view it as a source of shame. The theme for the last market was posted when we were at Shaker Woods. Once Shaker Woods is over, we scramble to create holiday soaps, prepare for fall, and maintain products for the remaining Ligonier Markets. It's a busy time of year, and I struggle to do what needs to be done without a proper plan in place. This year, I will shamefully hand out lollipops and Smarties. I feed Jordan's Halloween stash of Smarties to my goats. Goats like Smarties, kids, not so much. Sigh.

On a positive note, we are dressing up for the final market. The Bibbed Wonder is taking a play from Jenna, the dress-up rock star's playbook. He is borrowing Jenna's hot dog costume. We call her The Wicked Wiener when she wears it. Don't ask me why my funny friend owns a hot dog costume. It's part of her Jenna charm. I am donning my witch costume with a long tulle black skirt, handmade broom, and spider fixator. I usually do elaborate eye makeup, but I fear my enthusiasm for elaborate eye makeup at three A.M. is a bit lacking.

If you have little ones, this Saturday would be a fun visit to the last farmer's market of the season. I gently encourage you to dress them in their Halloween best and bring them to a safe, fun, family-friendly trick-or-treat event. I apologize in advance for the sub-par treats. This Saturday is the last opportunity to enjoy all that The Ligonier Country Market offers, stock up on your favorite local handmade products, and enjoy a wonderful community of talented people. We hope to see you there.

On this overcast, drizzly fall day, stay safe, be smart, come out to the last farmer's market of the season, and keep washing your hands.

I Believe In Signs

My dad was a very driven individual. He started his company at age 30 when I was eight years old. My dad worked hard to build his business and sacrificed for its success. I remember moments from my childhood that felt like milestone moments for my dad. The first big "luxury" item I remember my parents purchasing was a grandfather's clock. The clock is oak with gold inlays and has several chime settings. There is a brass pendulum that swings, with heavy brass weights that make a familiar clicking noise as they drop. The chimes sounded every fifteen minutes, and the clock made a mechanical whirring sound when it needed to be wound. Winding the clock was a great privilege. This clock was the sound of my childhood and teen years. It was part of the comforting noises of home.

After the clock was purchased, it became the centerpiece of our "good" living room, which was only used when company came and on holidays. The grandfather's clock also became the background for our family photos. Every picture from Christmas, Easter, high school dances, proms, and graduations was staged before the clock. This grandfather's clock has become a piece of my family history. Today, the clock sits in my dad's former office, or "the front room," as we call it. Unfortunately, I no longer keep it wound. The Bibbed Wonder says its ticking and donging keeps him awake at night. The Bean claims the sound of the clock at night is creepy. I must point out that The Bibbed Wonder could sleep through a war, and The Bean plays soft instrumental music while she sleeps. This is a practice I began when she was an infant and continues to this day. I tell her that listening to Bach and Mozart when she was little made her so brilliant. I don't believe, dear reader, that their complaints have any merit.

The clock has sat silently in our farmhouse for more than a decade. On rare occasions, I miss its comforting sounds and wind it. However, it has sat in regal silence for at least three years. This detail is essential to my story; you must remember it, dear reader. With that in mind, I continue my tale.

Yesterday morning, The Heavy-B and I went for our usual morning jaunt. As I have shared in past posts, my morning walk with my canine BFF is also my time for self-reflection and talking with my maker. Once my conversation with The Head Honcho is complete, I often reflect on various aspects of life or allow memories to flood my thoughts. Unsurprisingly, the memories that frequently arise are of my dad.

I ended my walk by detouring to the lone pear tree in our field behind the house. The pear tree has been a staple here since my dad was a boy. In my guesstimation, it is somewhere between 75 and 90 years old. The poor old tree looks a little worse for the wear these days. After strong winds, a dry summer, and progressed age, she needs a bit of trimming and TLC. Losing this tree is going to be emotionally challenging for me. I view it as one more tie to a life that included my dad. Stories of the pear tree and antics of The Tonkin Boys abound throughout the farm's history. If this tree is lost, I will take it to heart as one more tie to my dad that has been broken. I know, to most, it doesn't make sense, but to me, it is personal.

As I examined the poor state of the pear tree, I started talking to my dad. My conversations mainly consist of sharing how much I miss him, how life has not changed for the better since he has been gone, how my family is no longer a family, and how I wish he were here. As I examined the tree and the reality settled in that we could lose it, I began to cry. Although I try to quell the anger and resentment I carry surrounding certain aspects of my dad's passing and choices that were made that went against his wishes, sometimes it bubbles to the surface, and I have to allow it to come. When this happens, I usually point out the obvious and apologize that he has not been honored. It also usually ends with me begging for a sign that he is here. Yesterday was no different.

I ended my outing by checking in with The Bibbed Wonder, then to shower and prepare for the day. As I entered the house, I mumbled to myself to get it together and said one last, " I miss you, Dad." I gave The Heavy-B his morning treat, went to the laundry room to gather a basket of clean towels, and headed upstairs. The staircase sits right in front of my dad's former office and is also where the grandfather's clock now rests. As I stepped onto the second step, the grandfather's clock, silent for at least three years, made a clicking noise and chimed. I stopped in my tracks. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I walked over and stood before the clock. Nothing was amiss. The weights rested at the bottom of their cables, the pendulum was still, and the hands had not moved. As I stood gazing at the clock's glass front, the clock chimed two more times.

My first reaction was a tentative, "Daddy?" Then I smiled, felt an overwhelming sense of comfort, and just like that, the moment passed. The clock was silent. I walked back to the studio dumbfounded and shared my experience with Eric. I waited for him to denounce my sign from my dad or explain it away with logic. However, he smiled at me instead and said, "That's cool, buddy. Your dad has always been on your side." He talked me down and helped me process my bewilderment. And with that, I went about my day, but I felt lighter, more at ease, and had an inexplicable feeling that all would be well. Those feelings have carried over into today.

As I write to you in my dad's old office, sitting in the bedraggled leather chair that still displays the greasy mark his head created from evenings spent sitting in it, I look at the grandfather's clock that he was once so proud of. I do not doubt that my dad sent me the sign I needed. When I walk my Heavy-B this morning, you can be sure I will thank the One who gave me the sign I was looking for and the comfort it brought. I do indeed believe in signs, blessings, and miracles.

On this overcast day, stay safe, be smart, and be open to receiving the signs you need. Remember you are never alone, no matter how alone you may feel, and keep washing your hands.