Baby Goats Deux: The Peanut Crew

Early November of last year found Dave, Emily, and I shepherding Oliver the buck around the girls’ pen while he did his thing as many times as the goats would let him—”going on dates” or “getting girlfriends,” we called it. We had to intervene a few times to steady some squirrely lady goats, but generally everything went off—hyuck—without a hitch. That was, at least, until a super unexpected frost settled in, and for about ten days none of the goats were into getting it on. In Maine, and throughout much of frigid New England, breeding is carried out later in the year to protect the tender new kids from the hellacious winters and early springs. Gestation takes five months, so breeding in November yields April babies here, even as livestock in much of the rest of the country were having kids in March or even February. On the one side we’re working against winter, and on the other, we’re working against the start of our time-intensive farmers markets, so finishing breeding within that sandwich is crucial. When the goats took a ten-day time-out last year, we wondered how things would turn out on this end, and for better—I think, at least—it’s led to two distinct generations of kids.

Last time I posted about the kids, we were smack in the middle of generation one: seventeen baby goats all born within about eight days of one another. Unsurprisingly considering the frosty hiatus, about ten days passed wherein no kids were born. And then the other foot dropped overnight: six kids, then 12 kids, then two kids in two days, and now we’re waiting for the final two mamas to bear their babes. That’s generation two, the “peanut crew,” so called because they are teensy tiny compared to their three-week-old half-sisters and half-brothers. Among my favorites, there’s the littlest kid whom I call Charlie Brown because she’s just so teeny and loveable, and a beautiful gray one with a mottled face and bright pink nose who eats like a horse (picture at top). The distinct ages seems to have helped keep the chaos under control, especially since we’re able to differ the feeding methods: generation one is on bucket feeders, and the peanuts are being bottle-fed; it would be exhausting were we to be bottle-feeding all of them. The newest of the bunch all seem quite healthy too. Among the first crew, we unfortunately lost four overall: one refused to eat, two had neurological issues, and a fourth just stopped being able to stand or sit up one day. There’s a fifth slow one who is coming around now, and he’s sort of become everyone’s favorite because he is the slowest, messiest eater, but just seems to exist in such a Zen state of unconcern; sometimes we call him Buddha (picture top left below, he's facing the camera). 

Yesterday, Mr. Tilton came by to pick up the majority of bucklings from generation one and take them to his livestock auction. Some of those guys will be castrated and used as pets—wethers, they’re called—others will become companions for horses, since both are social creatures but tending a horse is much more involved than tending a goat, still others will grow up to be breeders or to manage brush growth at farms and rural properties, and yes, some will be raised for meat over the better part of this year. Today, two of my favorite little gals will go to the farm store to be sold as pets to the willing populace, and other farmers and dairy owners have been coming by to pick up a kid or two to round off their own herd numbers. And then of course there’s what this farm will keep, which is so far the majority of the baby girl goats. Soon enough we’ll move them all out of the barn and into the brush, where they’ll stuff themselves silly and cease to be peanuts, but for now, we’re still having fun getting to know all of their quirks and personalities as we bottle-feed. This is my last week on the farm, so hopefully I’ll get to meet the very final batch of babes and even toss out a name or two. Mama Greta, for instance, was named after 1930s actress Greta Garbo, so her baby will be named after a 1940s actress; Ilsa’s generation of kids will be named after flowers (Allium/Allie? Trilium aka Stinking Benjamin aka Benny?); there’s a group of artist babies (Frida!) and of suffragettes (Lucretia/Lu?); another of water babies and a bunch more I haven’t learned of yet. I hope to do one or two more farm follow-up posts, but thanks for now for following along! If you have any suggestions for flower names, I'd love to read them in the comments!

Call the Baby Goat Midwife!

At the moment, I am a baby goat midwife and cuddle puddle collaborator in Maine. My main job on the farm is to be at the birthing ready while Dave and Jen “catch” the baby goats and free them from their newborn slime, then I rub, rub, rub their backs until the babes cough and sputter and look alive. Removing umbilical cords and treating future belly buttons with strong iodine is also under my purview, though it seems I’m not the best at that in spite of my most expert baby-petting skills. When the births are unattended, the mama goats will bite down hard on the babies’ ears to spark a nervous response and get their blood flowing; that’s essentially what I do, but with vigorous patting instead.

We try to attend all of the births since our intervention sometimes means their survival: for one thing since it’s crucial on a farm business not to lose any producing animals, and for another because everyone loves the goats (except Joe! He is a pest!). Two days ago, for instance, my new favorite little white goat tried to come out at a physically impossible birthing angle—hip first with the leg bent back. After hours of tremendous exertion, mama Snow White looked about ready to call it quits, so Jen jumped in to manually turn the baby goat the right way and make way for her and the two brothers who followed; if we hadn’t been there, it’s likely that the traffic jam would have killed some or all of the goats. Those are terribly high-stress moments for the animals and people both, but luckily the occasion for our intervention is rare. Even so, we try to stand by through all the births, which means many pen-watching all-nighters are in our future!

We also get to feed the babies, which is pretty much the sweetest, stickiest, and most adorable job. We lightly pasteurize all of the moms’ milk to avoid passing on any illnesses the farm might not know about, then three times per day we bottle-feed the babes from sanitized beer bottles filled with pudding-thick milk; it’s also our duty to pet them as much as possible during this time to encourage positive socialization. Goats are naturally social and super curious creatures, so what this translates to is the babies crawling all over us in a big fuzzy puddle while we try to rub them silly. So far we have 15 wee ones from seven mamas, and there are about 20 who’ve yet to give birth. Needless to say, we’ll soon be swimming in a herd of squawking baby Nubians, which is totally cool by me; it will be an absolute miracle if I end up goat-free at the end of the month.

This might be a baking blog and all, but I just wanted to share a little about what it is that I’m doing up in Maine again! After spending a super intensive season making cheese and learning more and more about milks and animals last year, I wanted to be up here to bookend the experience and help the farm start the spring. And while I have a lot of baking plans in store while I’m here (bourbon! rhubarb! coconut!), there will likely be a lot of baby goat realness thrown in along the way. So thanks for reading and supporting this adventure. I hope you accept payment in the form of baby animal photos and videos. Oh, and don't forget to click those photos in the middle to embiggen!

Tourteau de Chevre with Grapefruit Honey Sorbet

I'm packin' it in, y'all. After nearly four years at my job as the senior editor for an awesome and essential civil rights group, and after being in DC for the same most excellent, challenging, and straight-up real period of time, I'm headed up to Maine to learn how to make goat cheese and acquire some serious business skills. I have two months left at my job -- very advanced notice, I know -- before putting myself out to pasture at a 100-acre goat farm in central Maine, a little bit north of Bangor. I'll be there until the end of the season, milking goats, making cheese, doing untold numbers of farm chores, and helping manage a farmers market or two, all in the name of learning about business and putting my food and field chops to the test.

Maybe I'll come back to DC with a little more forward momentum toward starting a business, or maybe I'll stay up there or go somewhere else to continue learning about farming and the like for a second season. I've had thoughts of making the most of some of my work connections to get into screenwriting and deeper into production, I still think about going to library school, and I also dream about doing public engagement work for a museum or arts organization. I also have no idea whether this stint will lead me back, long sigh, to the predictability of my cubicle -- yes, the path is clear for this one. All the same, I am very pumped!

I guess this is a little contrived, but bear with me and pretend it's sorta cute that I'm sharing this tourteau de chevre in honor of my goat cheesy celebration. Joey nailed it when he called this a cross between a cheese cake and an angel food cake. It's lighter than it looks -- a drier cheese cake with a pretty light goat cheese taste all within a sweetened pastry crust. Lottie + Doof served his with grape sorbet, but after Joey and I had a killer goat cheese panna cotta with grapefruit in North Carolina the other day, we had to try it with this grapefruit honey sorbet. The combination might seem like a mismatch, but it's totally delicious. Even so, Bobbie ate this with caramel, Joey topped it with maple syrup, I had it drizzled with honey, and we all agreed that spicy blackberry syrup would have been a nice topper too.

Besides, if your farmers markets are anything like ours right now -- that is to say, barely open -- then you could consider this a great, nonfussy dessert for the transition to spring. It will pair well with whatever fruit you have available, plus it's equally good with wine, beer, or coffee. Joey had it for breakfast too, but that's more a quality of his than a quality of the cake's. I hope you enjoy!

Tourteau de Chevre

Adapted from Lottie + Doof

I had to make this in a 9-inch pan because I couldn't find my 8-inch, so it's not as tall and glorious as Tim's was. The instructions below are for an 8-inch pan, but if yours is missing too, just roll the crust out to about 1.5 inches larger than called for and start checking to see if it's finished between 25 and 30 minutes into the second round of baking.

Tart Dough (see below)
5 large eggs, separated, at room temperature
Pinch of salt
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
9 ounces soft goat cheese
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1. Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Generously butter an 8-inch springform pan.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out into a circle that’s about 10 1/2 inches in diameter. Fit the dough into the springform pan, pressing it against the bottom and about halfway up the sides. Don't worry if dough pleats and folds on itself; do your best to smooth it out and don't worry about being perfect. Put the springform in the fridge while you make the filling.

3. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment or in a large bowl with a hand mixer, whip the egg whites with the salt until they start to form soft peaks. Still whipping, gradually add 2 tablespoons of the sugar, and beat until the whites hold firm, but still glossy peaks. If the whites are in the bowl of your stand mixer, transfer them gently to another bowl.

4. With the mixer—use the paddle attachment now—beat the egg yolks, goat cheese, the remaining 1/2 cup sugar, the cornstarch, and vanilla until very smooth and creamy, about a minute or two. Switch to a rubber spatula and stir one quarter of the whites into the mixture to lighten it, then gently fold in the rest of the whites. Scrape the batter into the crust and put the springform on the lined baking sheet.

5. Bake for 15 minutes, then turn the oven temperature down to 350 degrees F. Continue to bake for about 30 to 35 minutes more, or until the top, which will have cracked, is dark brown and firm; a thin knife inserted into the center of the cake should come out clean. Transfer the pan to a cooling rack and let the tourteau rest for 10 minutes. Carefully remove the sides of the springform. Cool the cake completely to room temperature before serving. It will deflate as it cools. Cake will keep covered in the fridge for about one week. I actually thought it tasted better the second day after a night in the fridge, but I leave that up to you!

Tart Dough
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into bits
1 large egg
1 teaspoon ice water

1. Put the flour, sugar, and salt in the processor and whir a few times to blend. Scatter the butter over the flour and pulse several times to blend. Then pulse until the butter is coarsely mixed into the flour, with texture ranging from small peas to oatmeal flakes. Beat the egg with the ice water and pour it into the bowl in 3 small additions, whirring after each one. The food process will change its sound a little, grumbling at you and getting deeper. The dough should be moist and malleable, and com together when pinched. Turn the it out onto a work surface, gather into a ball, and flatten dough into a disk.

2. Chill the dough for at least three hours.

Grapefruit Honey Sorbet

Makes about three cups

2 cups fresh-pressed grapefruit juice

1 teaspoon grapefruit zest

1/4 cup cup + 2 tablespoons mild honey, or to taste

1. Whir the juice, zest, and honey in a food processor or blender until all evenly mixed and honey is dissolved, about one minute. Taste for balance; sorbet will taste pretty much how it does as juice. Chill for a few hours until mixture is very cold. Process according to ice cream manufacturer's instructions. Sorbet will keep covered for about a week. After that it gets pretty hard and icy, but won't lose flavor!