As anyone who keeps animals outside will know, providing stock with water can be tiresome in cold weather. If, having broken thick ice on the goose bath, I find the chicken’s water is frozen solid, I check the pond to ensure the wild birds too have plenty to drink (I don’t feed the latter until the pyracantha and holly berries have been eaten, usually just before Christmas).
Traditionally at Bertie’s Cottage, the first weeks in December are overshadowed by the necessity of slaughtering many of our animals. However the ewe and lambs went to the chop months ago, and for the first year in many, there are no fat geese for the festive table – over the summer a badger broke in and gorged the whole clutch of eggs, (followed by two ducks, which rendered him so bloated, he had to forgo a trio of chickens he’d also savaged, just in case he had space). Fortunately Sam, the gander, and Gosie and Biba, his girls, looked sufficiently threatening to be spared. With luck next year they will have more success.
We chose to rest the pig field this year to stop parasites from building up, but fortunately our next door neighbours reared two Berkshire porkers, and in return for half one of our baconers last autumn, they brought us a bulging sack containing half a pig. Chops were the choice for supper (wretched Bitsa, the Jack Russell, stole the liver). I fried them till the inch of sweet fat had softened, browned and crisped along the edges, then seasoned them and flamed two tablespoons of gin around the pan. Accompanied by mashed Valor potatoes from friends just over the hill (ours are all eaten), plus veg from the garden - baked beetroot and steamed kale Cavolo nero di Toscana – the result proved so good we raised a glass to locals and seasonal food.
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