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!

Stone Fruit Tartlets with Rough Puff Pastry

The WWOOFers manhandled these tartlets. The three of them showed up on a Monday, fell in love with each other, and then, under feigned personal duress and believable tremendous confusion, ditched the farm that Wednesday morning to pursue their triad; somewhere along the line they pounded back all of the desserts, drank a lot of Twisted Tea, and left skivvies tacked to a chair in the basement. “You know, when I grow up,” mused the 23-year-old, “what I really want to do is become a foodie. I think I’d like that.” Arlene and I snorted into our beers, and we would have dumped them on his head had we known that later that night he would announce with deep solemnity that the three of the them were forgoing the endless opportunity to learn to make incredible food so they could get it on somewhere else. 

While we all worked on cheese and goats, the three of them horsed around in the shower and waxed poetic about what it’s like to “work hard” and be away from home. And even though they thus annoyed me to hell and the shared farm attitude was “fuck ‘em,” in a backwards way I almost appreciate their inanity because it brought levity to the farm once they were gone—a fun story to tell my folks about the spoiled Oberlin kids gone awry. Plus, they were totally nuts about these tartlets, if that’s any kind of endorsement. Don’t have any stone fruit? Use apple slices! Or pears. Or pralines. Don’t have any sluggish WOOFers with whom to share them? Toast to your lucky stars.

Stone Fruit Tartlets

Yields about 12 to 15 tartlets, depending on size

Adapted from Apt. 2B Baking Co. and Not Without Salt

This was my first time making rough puff pastry, and while you can see that I overbaked it some and my fruit pieces were a wee wack, I am in love with this recipe. I am also in love with Yossy of Apt. 2B Baking Co. for always having the most easily beautiful photos and recipes to share. Not so much in love that I’d ditch my farm to run away together, but enough so that her blog inspires me every day. Read it!

For Rough Puff Pastry
Below is one-half of a full recipe, which is just what you'll need to make about one dozen to 15 tartlets. See full proportions and a photo tutorial here if you'd like.

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
3 1/4 sticks (26 tablespoons) unsalted, very cold butter, cut into half-inch cubes
1/2 cup very cold water

1.  Sift together dry ingredients into the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment. Add butter chunks, and mix on the lowest speed for 30 seconds. Drizzle the water over the top and mix on the lowest speed for 15 seconds. (You can also do this whole step by hand using a bench scraper, if you'd rather.)

2.  Dump flour mixture onto clean counter or pastry board. Using your hands and a bench scraper, push the crumbly mass into a long rectangle, with the long end parallel to your body. Using the bench scraper, fold the right third of the dough over into the center and then the left third of the dough into the center on top; it's like folding a business letter. Rotate the dough 90 degrees.

3.  Reshape and push the dough into a rectangle again. Repeat the folding and turning two more times for a total of three times folded. If the dough becomes soft, just refrigerate for 20 to 30 minutes and continue. Once you've completed your turns, wrap the dough in plastic and refrigerate for 30 minutes to an hour.

4.  Remove dough from fridge and repeat process with three more turns. Where in the previous round your were mostly using your hands to push and shape the dough, a well-floured rolling pin will the do the trick now that the dough is more pliable. After the three turns (for a grand total of six), let dough rest, wrapped in fridge for 30 minutes; your dough is now ready to use! When baking, remember to preheat the oven for about an hour ahead of time, if you can.

For Assembly and Baking
As Yossy warns, these bake best in a very hot oven and when the pastry is very cold, almost frozen. My second batch puffed much more nicely than my first, so be sure to pre-heat your oven for a good while, and don't skimp on the freezer time for the pastry squares.

Rough puff pastry (see above)
5 to 7 pieces of stone fruit (one nectarine or peach will yield three tartlets if you slice well; one small plum or apricot will yield two)
1 egg + 1 tablespoon water, beaten with a fork until no streaks remain
1 teaspoon raw or large-grain sugar per tartlet
Powdered sugar for dusting, if desired

1. At least an hour prior to baking, preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Line two cookie sheets with parchment. When ready to bake, on a lightly floured surface, roll out rough puff pasty to a quarter-inch thick, keeping it as close to a rectangle as you can. With a knife or bench scraper, cut pastry into squares, three or four inches on each side (plums fit well on three-inch squares, but I wish I'd gone bigger for nectarines). Move squares to cookie sheets, and chill in the freezer for 20 to 30 minutes.

2.  Meanwhile, halve and pit your stone fruit. Cut the halves into eighth-inch slices, keeping them together so that they're easy to fan out across the pastry. When the pastry is very cold, brush the tops with your egg wash. Arrange tartlets on sheets with an inch or so of space between. Sprinkle each square with about half a teaspoon of sugar, fan the fruit across, and top with the rest of the sugar so that each tartlet has about one teaspoon total. Brush the excess sugar from the pans so that it doesn't blacken in the oven (like mine did), and bake your tartlets for 15 to 20 minutes, until they're lightly golden (I went a little long on the ones pictured). Allow to cool for about ten minutes, and enjoy! They'll keep covered at room temperature for about three days, softening a little bit each day.

Salted Ginger Caramel Goat Cheese Tart

Just a few short months ago, I was flipping goat cheese wrappers inside out and scraping out the corners with a tiny spoon to release all the smears for this cheese-heavy tart. Not wanting to spend one cent more to ensure enough usable quarter-ounces of cheese, I worked those wrappers for all that they were worth. Now I find myself in the complete opposite set of circumstances, those being that fresh, neverending goat cheese is the most readily available ingredient around; I still scrape out the bowls with a tiny spoon, but now with much less desperation and a lot more pride.

The inspiration for this tart came just in time too. My stint at the goat cheese farm is just two weeks old, but my role  is feeling more settled, routines are natural, and free time more predictable. Based on how the farm sells at market and how much milk we're getting from the girls, certain afternoons and evenings are now far less burdensome than they were just ten days previous, which means I have time to bake! A few days ago, on one of the most sweltering afternoons thus far, Arlene, Dave, and I riproared early through our chores and cheeses. The dough for this tart was already assembled and the chevre already made (by me!) and set aside, so I threw together and baked the filling before we high-tailed it for nearby Schoodic Lake, with beers, sandwiches, and pooch in tow. For a few blissful hours, we dove off tall rocks, exhausted ourselves swimming out as far as we could and back, and swapped stories about weird dates and weird parents. Only one slimy lake creature was spotted, and no one came home with a brain amoeba: success!

And when we got home sun-soaked and somewhat buzzed to finish evening chores, I managed to sneak away to finish the salted ginger caramel and top this tart before dinner. Supper perpetuated our lovely, easy day, as farm-fresh organic everything--all-beef hotdogs, burgers, cherry tomato cobbler baked with cheese that we made, kale chips, and potato salad--was amassed upon the table and gobbled up without hesitation. There might not be too many opportunities for me to make the cheese that makes a tart and then eat it surrounded by new friends and folks with hilarious stories, so I plan to take advantage of it as many times as I can over the next five months. On that note, do you have any must-make goat cheese baked goods recipes, sweet or savory? I'd love to know and make them!

Ginger Caramel Goat Cheese Tart

Inspired by Nothing in the House's Blackberry Lemon Goat Cheese Tart

Makes enough for one nine-inch tart

Crust and Filling

One-half recipe all-butter flaky pie crust or other pie or tart dough of your choosing

16 ounces soft chevre

4 extra-large eggs

2/3 cup + 2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Zest from one small lemon, about two teaspoons worth

Salted Ginger Caramel

1 cup granulated sugar

6 tablespoons salted butter (or unsalted + 1/4 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt), cut into one-inch pieces

1/4 cup heavy cream

2-inch peeled knob of ginger, grated and pressed to yield one tablespoon juice

1.  Parbake pie crust:  preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Roll out pie crust to an 11- or 12-inch circle and fit it into nine-inch tart pan. Fold under edges, pleat, and prick all over with a fork. Fit a sheet of foil against the dough and fill with pie weights or dried beans then bake for ten minutes. Carefully remove the foil, press down any crust bubbles, and bake for five to eight minutes more, until crust is lightly golden. Reduce temperature to 350 once crust is parbaked.

2.  Make the filling:  meanwhile, add chevre, eggs, and sugar to a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Mix on medium-low until filling is uniformly blended, about three minutes. Add the extract, juice, and zest, scrape down the sides, and mix until filling is smooth. 

3.  Bake:  set parbaked tart shell on a foil-lined cookie sheet. Pour filling into hot tart shell and bake at 350 degrees F for 50 minutes, until filling is set on the edges and slightly soft in the middle; be sure to rotate pan halfway through. Allow to cool on wire rack completely, about two hours. Can store undressed tart in fridge at this point, if not finishing tart the same day.

4.  Make caramel* and assemble:  add sugar for caramel to a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Melt sugar over medium-high heat, whisking gently as needed to ensure even melting. Once sugar is melted, swirl pan every 30 seconds or so until sugar turns a deep copper color. With heat still on, add butter and whisk like mad to melt; mixture will sputter, so be careful. Then, add cream and ginger juice, stirring until caramel is smooth. Remove from heat and let cool in fridge for about one hour. When cool, pour caramel over goat cheese tart, spreading to edges of crust. Cool in fridge to set caramel, one to two hours, or cut it into it straight away like we did and end up with a really delicious mess. If you want, sprinkle a few flecks of flaky sea salt over the top too.

*Do ahead: Caramel can be made days or even a week ahead and stored in the fridge. Just rewarm ever so slightly in the microwave for 15 to 20 seconds before spreading over the tart.