Farmhouse Rules – A Food Network show that I have watched that will calm me down and interest me for approximately 25 minutes. I cannot taste or smell or the glorious concoctions I see on screen, but I can imagine them. Or imagine the feel of whipping fresh cream (that I cannot eat), as it gets increasingly thicker.
There is a red barn up ahead that appears small from the road, but gets bigger and bigger the closer we get. When we get out of the car, there is the whinnying of horses, the low mooing of cows, the staccato cluck of chickens pecking for grain the yard. Deep voices echo throughout the acres as farmhands coordinate and tend to their work. There is a rumble of a tractor and the clink of dishes and glasses being put away.
I think of washed out blue overalls and lassoes, good eating and hard work. I have never grown up on a farm. I do not know what the day to day is like other than what I’ve seen on Food Network and various reality TV (or fictional TV for that matter). I read Little House on the Prairie. I remember reading all the books in elementary school and liking those books a lot, though I now only remember little bits and pieces and slivers of narrative. Like a newborn baby being laid to sleep inside a drawer with blankets, a snowstorm that left powder so deep it was difficult to walk to the school house, hard candy and licorice being some wild, uncommon, expensive delight. I remember the family structure and homes being built of wood.
I remember a farm-to-table restaurant my brother, my dad, and I ate at in upstate New York. Half our summer vacation was spent visiting Cooperstown, the other half visiting Lake George – one of my favorite trips. And I remember we had to stay in a town outside Cooperstown because Paul Simon was playing that weekend and there were no rooms available within that general area (either that or they were way expensive). Every night we found a new, lovely, and different restaurant and I remember the farm-to-table one very well. We were literally on farm property and everything was so delightful and quaint and fresh. I remember having salmon and asparagus and it was the best I ever tasted. I miss those trips. I miss that place. And I’m kicking myself that I can’t remember the name of it right now (or the town we stayed in). The ride up was unexpectedly long.