Circle M Farm

Some of the tasks here at Circle M are so truly mundane they defy mention, but these few are some of my favorite seasonal chores: washing the wool from my spring shearing and making stock from last year’s frozen soup bones and stewing chickens.

Both potentially boring activities have a satisfying roundness to them: they clean up and create at the same time. When I’m busy multi-tasking at them in my summer kitchen/dye studio, I feel at once a virtuous purge sensation and a victorious production rush. Two homemaking achievements for the effort of one! I can accomplish both in the same room at the same time, which is a trait most valued in these lull-before-the-storm weeks of the year when things are about to really get crazy here on the farm.

The calm before the storm – it’s pretty peaceful in the pasture right now, just before lambs, kids and chicks start making things a bit more lively out there. Check out the rooster making a couch of Prissy’s ample pregnant tummy.

Timing is a good reason not to put these simple tasks off. If I don’t get wool cleaned and stocks made before this year’s babies and gardens need me, I likely won’t get to them until the heat of the summer – when I won’t enjoy being over a hot steamy stove and washer near as much. They don’t take undivided attention – just some fairly regular checking-in throughout the day, which is easy to do when you are not yet working in the fields.

The greasy, dirty wool, piled in plastic bag mountains all over the floor and shelves of my garage summer kitchen, must be carefully “skirted” or picked over for unusably matted or soiled sections. Those bits are discarded, burned outside and sprinkled over the gardens. I gently push the remaining locks, using an old wooden canoe paddle, under the surface of soapy, very hot water in my old washing machine reserved just for wool and work clothes. After soaking several hours, the fiber is wrung out on the spin cycle. The whole process is repeated again for a rinse, and depending on the fleece, yet another wash and rinse.

Meanwhile, beef bones, lamb joints, ham hocks or whole chickens in a large stock pot are simmering, generously covered in water, on a stove in the same room. The dual processes create an environment both warm and steamy, just the place to be on a slightly chilly day. I don’t do much of either in the winter, because the garage is too cold then. The only work the stock requires is a first rapid boil, which brings a scum to the surface of the liquid that must be skimmed off. I skim the stock several times over a period of a half-hour’s rolling boil. Then the heat is reduced and the stock simmers away for a day or two, depending on how it looks and smells.

I’m almost ashamed to say how proud I feel standing over my sink ladling wildly fragrant beef stock through a sieve into sparkling Ball jars. Though I didn’t grow up using homemade stocks, I’ve become a raving evangelist in recent years. And not just from watching and reading Julia Child. There is something at once rich and subtle about the flavor of a dish made with real stock. Last night we had this barley and moong bean dahl that was so delicately flavored with lamb stock, simmered from neck slices, that I hardly wanted to season it at all. It’s a new style for me, as I’m generally quite liberal with the herbs.

Barley Bean Dal

Remove bones, skim broth again if necessary. Add barley and a teaspoon of salt, cook for 1 hour. Add beans and tomatoes, sprinkle with pepper and a dash of basil. Simmer for another half hour, or until beans are as tender as you wish. I don’t like a totally mushy texture, but it’s a matter of preference. Correct seasonings. Enjoy!

Unfortunately, the jarred stocks do need to go back into the freezer – in glass rather than white butcher paper this time. They are worth the space, even though I’m desperate to make room for incoming pork, lamb and beef.

My washed wool, on the other hand, gets dyed on the garage stove and then dried in front of my woodstove in the warm house, several window screens at a time. From there, the fleeces will either be sold directly to fellow spinners and felters, or it will go through my carders and into my own spinning wheel. Either way, it’s just pure joy to have the house full of fluffy, lustrous and colorful wool at any stage of production. And smelling of a savory soup.

Pretty! Dyed wool locks drying in front of the woodstove.