My desk, and internet stick in the cow pasture office.
I have returned to Nicaragua with a new laptop(which apparently has a very delicate publish button, I accidently published this post before it was finished!?)I’ll be back with as soon as I learn how to use it 🙂 Saludos, Abby
Self Sustainable. Organic. Farm to Table. Appealing words— admirable concepts. But we seldom consider what it entails to bring such belief systems to fruition; how we navigate the road from farm…to table.
Farmer Chris and Sous Chef Adam on Machete Duty
This week at Rancho Santana’s chicken facility our farm and kitchen staff walked that path.
Felipe and Omar Plucking
Melky and Justin Butchering
Hen to plate.
Sautéed Chicken Liver with Radish, Fennel Frond Salad
I am an intrepid decision maker, but sometimes my coping skills struggle to keep up with the fearless nature of my choices. The past several weeks I’ve been scrambling to acclimate to modern life.
When I lived at the Piedra Rahada I felt well organized when I knew what day of the week it was, rich when there was an extra 10 pesos for beer; thus, carrying internet on my body, honoring schedules, disposable cash and availability of products, have left me feeling rattled and unfocused.
Sometimes, when I need a morale boost, I entertain myself with recollections of how we prepared for our move from Chicago. Of course it required shopping, a fundamental element of my life at the time. I bought myself a beautiful pair of handcrafted pearl earrings, $150. Who knew when I would be able to afford such things again? I also succumbed to a craving for a pair of $80 espadrilles from Banana Republic, which I bought too small and never wore. I have no explanation for this but some weird small foot vanity. Then I trekked to J. Crew. These were places I rarely shopped. Mostly I resale shopped, but I had the idea that because I’d be denied luxuries, I should stock up. On what—useless overpriced things? As it turned out, I was stocking up on waste. At J. Crew I bought a $60 sunhat. Now surely, this was a needed item. It was grand, a lounging at the pool glamorous floppy hat to protect not only your face but your décolletage. I’ve never worn it. Why? Well, it’s huge, hot and impractical, you can barely see out from under it and I have no occasion to lounge around a pool. Did I mention it has some gold sequins on it? It really is a beautiful hat, scorpions enjoy nesting in it.
An excerpt from Dirty, Wet and Bitten, my memoir of moving to Mexico.