Siobhan, Ciarin, and Chevre

                                                           
Siobhan adores Ciarin—I can’t imagine why.  He adores chasing her madly around the pasture…Ciarin is a goat—a Nubian goat, of considerable size and dubious pedigree.  His name means “little dark one” in Gallic; it refers not to his color, but to his dark sense of humor.   Theirs is a strange and beautiful friendship…

 Perhaps it was Ciarin that first inspired me to make chevre (a soft cheese made from goat’s milk).  Unlike Ciarin, chevre is sweet and mild…  It is also fairly easy to make; the only ingredients needed are pasteurized goat’s milk, citric acid, cheese salt, and herbs for seasoning.   We often buy fresh goat’s milk from a nearby farm to use in our cheese-making. We grow our own garlic and herbs, so the flavoring is fresh as well.  Siobhan and I sometimes make our chevre plain, and sometimes with Herbs de Provence.  Today we are making  herbed chevre with garlic and rosemary...

   

                 Recipe For

Chevre With Garlic and Rosemary

Ingredients:

    

      * 2 qts. pasteurized goat’s milk

      *1 tsp. citric acid

      * 1 tsp. cheese salt (to taste)

      * 1 tsp. fresh or dried rosemary, finely chopped

      * 1 tsp finely chopped garlic

Supplies Needed:

• Stainless steel double boiler
• butter muslin or fine cheesecloth
• colander
• cheese molds
• candy thermometer

Instructions:

*Measure citric acid into ½ cup water and stir; set aside.

* Add water to bottom pot of double boiler; bring to a low boil.

*Pour milk into top pot of double boiler; add citric acid/water mixture and salt to milk; mix     

 thoroughly.

 *Heat milk to 180 deg. – 185 deg; do not allow to boil.  Stir often to prevent scorching.  Remove from heat when you see coagulation (white and yellowish separations in the milk.

*Allow to sit undisturbed for 10 – 12 min.

*Line colander with cheesecloth; slowly pour milk into colander. (This will strain the whey from the curds, leaving the curds in the cheesecloth.)

*Gently mix in garlic and rosemary; When curds stop dripping, spoon into cheese molds; gently press to evenly fill molds.  Place molds on a flat pan lined with paper toweling; let sit 30 min. to allow excess whey to drain.

* Hold cheese mold upside down over plate or storage container, and tap gently but firmly to remove cheese from mold.  Cover cheese and store in refrigerator for up to one week.





**For more recipes, visit us at:  www.just2gypsies.com

                                                               
                                                                                                                          

                                   

                                                       
                                             

The Haunting Beauty of Ireland

                                                                

             

There is a haunting beauty in all of Ireland—in its windswept cliffs and its rock-strewn shores…in a rose that still blooms by a cottage door, abandoned long ago…in a lonely churchyard, shrouded in the morning mists, its tombstones   tilting over moss-covered graves…in sad and solemn castle ruins, where placid sheep now graze…

 You will see beauty in the lined faces of Her old…you will hear it in the lilting music of their voices…

The beauty of Ireland will creep beneath your skin and into your very bones.  It will warm your heart while you are there, and tug at your heartstrings when you are away…

My heart shall always yearn for Ireland.


           Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innesfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made,:
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I heae lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

          -W. B. Yeats

                  

A Tinker, a Traveller, and a Little Bohemian

 

 

            A weathered sign hangs by our door: “A Tinker, a Traveller, and a Little Bohemian”.  It describes us well-- for this is what we are, my incredible daughter and myself. She is Siobhan.  I am Grainne. We are descendants of two 19^th century immigrants, a young Scottish farmer and his Irish Traveller bride.  Their ancient mingled blood warms our veins.  Their half-forgotten memories linger at the edge of our dreams.

 Like the Farmer, we have a fierce love for the land…and a need for roots.  Like the Gypsy, we hunger for the wildness of the forest…and the whispered promises of the open road.  Like Both, we spend our days outdoors, reveling in the changing seasons—the gentle awakening of the earth in spring, the soft kiss of  summer’s sun,  the smell of fires burning in the crisp autumn air, the wonder of winter’s first snowflakes.   Nature is our favored companion, in calm and in storm…

   Siobhan and I cherish the old ways; we are content to cook our meals over an open fire.  We find comfort in the glow of oil lamps and candles. We like the feel of moist, rich earth in our hands--and the pleasure of growing our food.  We grow our own herbs and flowers to use for healing.

  I like to build things, to work with wood. I am a seamstress and a maker of baskets.

 Siobhan is a creator of beauty, an artist in all that she does. She is a master of canvas and clay. She is a landscaper of nature.  My lovely daughter is a talented aerialist, a lyra ballerina; the circus runs deep in her blood.   She is a skilled trainer of horses—as were our ancestors before us.

 Perhaps it was inevitable that we would be as we are: wanderers of forests, followers of streams, lovers of nature, planters of herbs, caretakers of animals, menders of things broken, and creators of art…

Siobhan is my cherished daughter and my dearest friend.  Our blog is but a glimpse into our lives;  read if you will, and share our dreams. Teacht sui ag an tine. Come sit by our fire…