Molly

Growing up in Great Neck, I encountered chickens in a multitude of ways, never alive. They were wrapped in plastic at the grocery store, spinning on a rotisserie at Poultry Mart or baked and cut into pieces on our dinner table. Here in Montana, we raise chickens in our backyards.

This is not just any Buff Orpington chicken; this chicken is a survivor. She has survived lightning storms, sub zero weather, hail the size of baseballs, and two dog attacks. She has survived winter in Montana. Need I say more?

When Molly was purchased from Murdoch's, she came home with five other chicks in a box. I felt like I just gave birth, only I had more energy. There was no formula or diapers in the picture and they ate and drank from their feeder whenever they had the desire.

Some people shelter baby chicks in their house and although I wanted to keep them in the kitchen, Peter would not consider it. The garage was insulated so they would be fine. (We hoped).

We made a nest for the chicks in a basin filled with wood shavings. The February cold kept the chicks huddled together under their heat lamp. Three Buff Orpingtons and Three Jersey Giants seemed like safe breeds for our first experience with raising chickens. Or so it seemed.

I felt like Godzilla when I tried to pet the chicks. Five of them ran for safety in terror of me. Molly, however, was fearless. She came over to my hand and walked up my arm. Maybe she was hungry, maybe she was looking for her mother, but, for some reason, she always hopped into my hand. Molly and I had a bond.

What kind of bond? Mother/daughter? Teacher/disciple? Chef/dinner? None of these. Molly was becoming a pet chicken. So many people have pet chickens that they sell diapers for "house chickens." I didn't want this relationship. But it was developing, every day.

Montana is a place where people raise chickens for eggs and meat. Most people don't give their chickens names like "Stretchy" or "Smiley." There are reasons for not getting too attached to a farm animal. (Stretchy didn't make it past ten days)

In Montana, people harvest their hens after about two years when the layers become less productive. I learned this at my doctor's office from the phlebotomist as she was drawing my blood. She was getting ready to harvest her thirty chickens and looking forward to a new crop of chicks.

To harvest, or not to harvest? This was the question...


Chicken Snack

4 leaves of romaine lettuce
2 zucchini
2 apples
4 carrots
4 bananas

Chop up all the veggies and fruit into bite sized pieces. Toss lightly in a metal bowl and carry out to the chicken run. Serves four chickens.

The Shiksa

The first time I met David Levine's new wife, she served us paella that was rich with saffron and hot pepper. The pan glistened with black mussel shells and scarlet lobster tails. She poured sangria from a tall pitcher into the adult's glasses. The year was 1979 and most of my parents friends were divorced, separated or just plain miserable. Megan and her two sons had moved into David's new house. Tan and blond, she wore no make up and dressed in a loose peasant blouse and worn jeans. My mother glared. As soon as we said goodnight and were in our car, she turned to my father and said,"David is going to regret marrying that divorcee. She is too young for him! And her kids seem slow; the older one must be retarded." My father, who had clearly enjoyed the evening, pointed out that David was divorced too. I could see that Dad appreciated Megan Levine. He laughed with her and enjoyed her cooking. The only one who looked tense was my mom. "I think the clams were spoiled. I feel sick." she added, clutching her stomach. The second time we went to Megan Levine's house, David poured glasses of scotch for my parents and Megan invited me to help her in the kitchen. She handed me a serrated knife and I sliced a baguette as she told me stories about a summer she worked in a vineyard in Southern France. I tried to picture myself picking grapes with a basket on my arm. "Can you check the recipe for me? How much olive oil?" she asked. No one in my world would ever consult a cookbook. Why would they try a new recipe? Why not eat the same food all the time? "Sure," I said, eagerly opening the book. For my thirteenth birthday, Megan surprised me at my house, to my mother's discomfort. I could hear the false greeting in her voice:"Great to see you! How are your sons?" Megan gave me a hug and I unwrapped her gift. It was The Good Housekeeping Cookbook. The same one she used. My initiation had begun. I could become one of the women who use cookbooks. I loved the bright color photos of Ham Steak Hawaiian, Cheese Fondue and Banana Cream Pie. All I had to do was follow the directions. What could be easier? My first attempt was cheese souffle, the photo on the book's cover. Just the word "souffle" sounded dangerous and French. It looked like grown-up food. In the back of the kitchen cabinet I found a souffle dish. I was on my way. While I was beating egg whites, my grandmother, Nan, barged into the kitchen. "That is not how you whip eggs. All wrong. Let me show you," she demanded. "This is how the cookbook says to do it," I answered, still holding the electric beater in my hand. "Who knows better, your grandmother or a cook book?"she challenged me. I pictured Megan Levine with her confident smile in her kitchen. I could hear Simon and Garfunkel on her radio. Megan gave me this cookbook for a reason. "I'm just following the recipe," I said, shrugging. I should have winked at her but you couldn't wink at my grandmother. She smelled a traitor. "You'll be sorry. It won't rise if you don't listen to me." she warned. I held up the book as if it was a talisman. The choice had been made. I had chosen the way of the shiksa. Classic Cheese Souffle from The Good Housekeeping Illustrated Cookbook 1/4 C butter or margarine 1/4 C all purpose flour 1 teaspoon salt 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper 1 1/2 C milk 2 four oz. packages shredded cheddar cheese (2 Cups) 6 eggs, separated 1. In a 2 quart saucepan over medium heat, melt butter or margarine; stir in flour, salt and cayenne pepper until smooth. 2.Slowly stir in milk and cook, stirring constantly just until sauce is smooth and thickened. 3.Add cheese and heat, stirring, just until the cheese melts. Remove pan from the heat. Preheat oven to 325 F. 4. In a small bowl, beat egg yolks slightly. Beat in small amount of the hot sauce to prevent lumping when added to saucepan. 5.Slowly pour warm egg mixture into hot sauce in pan, stirring rapidly to prevent eggs lumping. 6.In large bowl with mixer at high speed, beat egg whites just until stiff peaks form. Lightly grease bottom of a 2 quart souffle dish. 7.With rubber spatula, gently fold cheese sauce into beaten egg whites. 8.Pour mixture gently into prepared dish. For "top hat" effect, with spoon, make a 1-inch deep circle in top of cheese mixture, 1 inch from side. 9.Bake souffle in center of oven for 1 hour or until puffy and golden brown. Serve immediately.